Chapter 5 The Beginning of the End

Her mother didn't say a word for what felt like hours.

The dead silence between them said it all.

She just stood in the middle of the small kitchen, apron still tied around her waist, a half-peeled yam forgotten on the table. Aurora watched as her mother's hands trembled slightly, but enough to betray the storm inside her.

"You're pregnant?" she finally said, her voice low, sharp.

Aurora nodded.

"And the father?"

Aurora hesitated. "It's... complicated."

Her mother's eyes darkened. "Is he a student? Married? Someone at that company?"

Aurora didn't answer.

And that was enough.

She didn't have to know.

Her mother's face went from shock to a sinister look . "I trusted you, Aurora. We gave you everything we didn't have. We took you in, raised you like our own..."

"You did raise me like your own," Aurora said softly. "And I'm forever grateful for that. But I made a mistake. One that I'm willing to face."

Her mother wiped her hands on her apron and shook her head. "We can't carry this shame. Not in this house. What do you want people to say? That my only daughter came back home pregnant, no husband, no explanation?"

"I'm not asking you to explain anything. I just need some time."

Some time to figure out myself.

"And what happens when your belly starts showing? What do I tell your father?"

Aurora's throat closed up. "I'm not asking you to lie for me. I'm just asking you not to turn your back on me."

Her mother stared at her.

And then, without another word, she turned and walked away.

Aurora stood frozen in the quiet kitchen. The only sound she could hear was the ticking wall clock and the dull ache in her chest.

That night, her father didn't come to speak to her. Her mother didn't call her for dinner. And her bedroom door remained closed.

By morning, her suitcase was waiting by the door.

Her mother didn't say a word when she walked past.

Aurora picked up her bag, opened the door, and stepped out into the world completely

The days that followed blurred into survival.

She slept in a rundown motel on the outskirts of town, paying for a few nights with the last of her savings. She lived on bread and instant noodles, avoided mirrors, and counted the days since her resignation.

She didn't tell Damon where she was.

She didn't want pity.

Or apologies.

Or worse, obligations.

She just needed to figure things out.

On her fourth night alone, her phone rang. an unknown number.

She ignored it.

It rang again.

She finally picked up.

"Aurora."

Her chest tightened at the sound of his voice.

Damon.

"How did you get this number?" she asked quietly.

"I never deleted your emergency contact form."

Of course.

"I'm fine," she said, already trying to end the conversation.

"No, you're not. I've been to your apartment. Your office. HR wouldn't give me details."

"You shouldn't be calling me."

"I had to," he said. "You're pregnant with my child. You don't get to vanish and expect me to pretend it's not happening."

"I didn't vanish. I walked away."

"Same thing."

She pressed a hand to her forehead. "I'm not ready for this conversation."

"I need to see you."

"No."

"You don't get to decide that for both of us."

"I do when it's about my body, my life and my child."

The line went quiet.

Then he said, voice lower, "You're right."

Aurora blinked, surprised.

"But I still need to know. Where are you staying?"

"Somewhere safe."

"Aurora, please."

She closed her eyes. "I'll call you when I'm ready."

And she hung up.

That night, she cried.

Not because of the baby.

Not because of her mother.

But for the first time, she realized how truly alone she was.

The next morning, she woke up to a knock at her motel door.

She froze.

Another knock.

She crept to the door and peered through the peephole.

Her heart stopped.

Damon.

She didn't open it.

But he spoke anyway, voice muffled through the door. "I'm not here to take over. Or control anything. I just want to help."

She didn't answer.

He waited for several minutes.

Then left.

Later that evening, she got a text from him.

"There's a clinic downtown that does free checkups for expecting mothers. I booked you in for Friday. You don't have to go. But it's there if you want."

She stared at the screen for a long time.

Then deleted the message.

But part of her heart refused to forget it.

Friday came. She didn't plan to go.

But something pushed her.

She walked to the clinic. Checked in under a false name. Sat in a plastic chair under humming fluorescent lights.

And when they called her name, she stood.

Everything was routine. Her vitals were stable. The baby was fine.

She was fine.

Until the nurse asked casually, "Do you know anything about your family's medical history?"

Aurora hesitated. "I was adopted."

The nurse smiled kindly. "Still... anything you do know?"

Aurora opened her mouth to answer.

But stopped.

Because the truth was... she didn't know anything.

Not even who her biological parents were.

That night, she dug out the old envelope her mother once gave her. The one she had hidden at the bottom of her drawer for years. Inside was a birth certificate. With her name, adoption date, and a surname she had never asked about.

A surname that didn't belong to her adopted parents.

A name she had never spoken aloud.

She pulled out her phone.

Typed the name into a search engine.

Her breath caught when the first result popped up:

"House of Arkwell – British Royal Bloodline & Estate"

Her blood ran cold.

And that's when she saw it.

A black-and-white photo of a woman from years ago.

The caption: "Lady Arkwell, the Duke's teenage daughter, vanished from public view in 1998 amid scandal."

The date matched Aurora's birth year.

She stared at the screen, her hands trembling.

And for the first time, it hit her:

She wasn't just carrying the CEO's child.

She was royalty.