Chapter 2 - The Ghost of Medical Files Past
Ava remained frozen on the freezing marble floor of the en-suite bathroom, her fingers gripping the edge of the porcelain sink as her breathing slowly steadied. The metallic taste in her mouth was a stark reminder of reality, but the weight settling in her chest was far heavier than any physical illness. Her mind raced back to the week before the wedding—the sterile smell of the private clinic downtown, the hushed tones of Daniel’s personal physician, Dr. Harrison, and the thick manila folder that had been dropped onto her father’s mahogany desk like a death sentence.
"He cannot have children, Ava," her father had said, his voice entirely devoid of warmth, treating her like a business asset being appraised for a merger. "The shrapnel injury from the Genoa warehouse explosion five years ago destroyed his reproductive viability. The Syndicate needs a wife for him to project an image of domestic stability, nothing more. You are there to look pretty at charity galas and keep his house. Your womb is irrelevant."
Irrelevant. That was the word they had used. It had been used to justify her auction-block sacrifice to the Choi family to pay off her brother’s catastrophic gambling debts. Daniel didn't want a bride; he wanted a ghost to haunt his mansion, a silent fixture to appease the elders who believed a married don was a stable don.
Ava stood up slowly, her legs shaking slightly as she caught her reflection in the gilded vanity mirror. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath her amber eyes, a testament to weeks of insomnia and quiet tears shed into goose-down pillows she hadn't asked for. She touched her flat stomach. The idea was absurd, terrifying, and chemically impossible. Yet, her body was screaming a different narrative—one written in missed cycles, sudden food aversions, and this morning's undeniable sickness.
May you like
Downstairs, the heavy oak doors of the foyer slammed shut, followed by the low rumble of men’s voices. Daniel had returned from his early morning business. In the Choi world, "business" usually meant extortion, territorial disputes, or worse. Ava splashed cold water on her face, pinned her hair into a neat, submissive chignon, and smoothed out the silk robe she wore. If Daniel found out—if the Syndicate found out she was carrying a child that medical science swore was a phantom—her life wouldn't just be difficult; it would be forfeit. A barren wife was a tolerated inconvenience. A pregnant wife carrying an impossible heir in a house built on blood and secrets was a walking target.
---
