Chapter 5

Anya POV:

The days on the private island unfolded like a balm to my scarred soul. Jace, my brother and true fiancé, was everything Grayson was not: calm, honorable, and openly affectionate. He allowed me space to heal, yet was always there, a steady presence.

He told me about our family, the Nolan dynasty, a force in European tech and finance. He explained the betrothal, a tradition of uniting powerful families, but one that was meant to be filled with love, not obligation.

"When our parents lost you, they never stopped searching," Jace explained one evening, as we sat overlooking the moonlit sea. "This network, it was built for you."

He handed me a small, velvet-covered diary. "This was your mother's. She wrote in it every day, hoping you would one day find your way back."

I ran my fingers over the worn cover, a pang of longing and regret tightening my chest. A family, a real history, had been waiting for me all along.

The raw pain of Grayson's betrayal began to recede, replaced by a quiet sense of belonging. The nightmares still came, flashes of the cartel, of Grayson's cold eyes, of Camilla's triumphant smile. But they faded faster each morning.

Jace never pressured me about our betrothal. He simply showed me what true love and respect looked like. He listened patiently as I recounted fragments of my past, the violence, the hidden life, the crushing betrayal.

He never flinched. Never judged. Only offered understanding.

"You are stronger than anyone I know, Anya," he said, holding my hand. "Your past built you, it didn't taint you."

His words were a revelation. They severed the last threads of Grayson's twisted ideology. My strength wasn't a flaw; it was my essence.

One afternoon, while exploring the island, I found an old, dusty grand piano in a forgotten conservatory. My fingers, accustomed to the silent keys in my secret practice room, gravitated towards it.

The music flowed, hesitant at first, then with a powerful, unburdened freedom. It was a melody of loss, of healing, of newfound hope.

"You're incredible," Jace said, startling me. He had been listening outside. "Why did you hide this talent?"

I explained Grayson's fear, his desire to keep me hidden, safe, unnoticed. "He said it was too dangerous for me to be known."

Jace shook his head. "A talent like yours deserves to be heard. To be celebrated."

For the first time, I felt a genuine desire to truly embrace my passion, publicly.

Weeks turned into months. I regained my physical strength, the old injuries healing under Jace' s care and the island' s tranquility. My emotional scars began to mend too, knit together by kindness and unconditional love.

I started taking long walks, rediscovering the joy of movement, unburdened by the constant vigilance of my previous life.

During one of these walks, a sudden wave of dizziness hit me. My stomach churned. I dismissed it as fatigue, a lingering effect of the trauma.

But the dizziness returned, accompanied by a strange aversion to certain foods, and a subtle shift in my body.

Jace, ever observant, noticed. He insisted I see the family doctor on the island.

The doctor, a kindly woman with discerning eyes, performed a thorough examination. Her smile, when she delivered the news, was gentle.

"Anya," she said, "you're pregnant."

The words hung in the air, echoing in the quiet room. Pregnant.

My mind raced back to that night, after the cartel rescue, when I had sought comfort in Grayson's arms, under the influence of sedatives and raw emotion. The night the world shattered, and then, the night Jace rescued me.

It could be Grayson's. It could be Jace's. The timeline was painfully ambiguous.

A cold dread seeped into my newfound peace. A baby. A tangible link to the past I was desperately trying to escape.

Jace walked in then, his face expectant. "Everything alright?"

I looked at him, at his kind, steady eyes, eyes that had seen me at my lowest and still offered unwavering support.

How could I tell him? How could I introduce such a complex, painful truth into our burgeoning future?

The joy I should have felt was overshadowed by fear. Fear of the truth. Fear of hurting Jace. Fear of what this meant for my new beginning.

My hand instinctively went to my stomach, a different kind of protective gesture this time.

The doctor cleared her throat, sensing the unspoken tension. "Anya, are you alright?"

I swallowed, the words thick in my throat. I had to tell Jace. I had to be honest.

This new life, this healthy love, demanded honesty.

"Jace," I began, my voice trembling slightly. "There's something I need to tell you."

The truth, no matter how painful, had to come out.