Page 139 of Modern Romance June 2025 1-4

“Not entirely.” Something shifts in his expression, though I can’t read it. He begins to look almost angry. “There were also things I needed to do in New York.”

“I tracked her there, too.” He looks almost…relievedwhen I say it. I don’t understand, but I keep going. “I can tell you when she arrived in New York, but I don’t know what happened to her afterward. The law firm in Nice is certain she died. They didn’t tell me how they came to that conclusion.”

He considers me for a moment. “I do not believe she died. I believe she married, changed her name, and made sure she could not be tracked. And I do not blame her.” His expression darkens. “Much as I take pride in this family and all the things I believe the de Luz name means, I think that she was clever indeed to put it all behind her.”

“But you talked to that law firm yourself, didn’t you?” I ask. “Did they share your suspicions?”

“They had a great many theories, but mostly, they don’t know. They performed a very specific task.” When I stare back at him, he blinks. “I thought you knew. They helped her emigrate to the United States.”

“That makes sense.” And it does.

Meaning, it makes sense that someone would use a law firm like that to do such work. What doesn’t make sense is how the apparently lowly servant girl managed to hire that kind of high-level firm to do it.

But I don’t ask him about that, because he rubs a hand over his face. And when he pulls the hand away he looks as weary as I’ve ever seen him.

And when his gaze meets mine, it is something like…torn. Sad, even.

It makes my heart break all over again.

“In the end,” Taio says quietly, “I could not come to any kind of definitive conclusion. So I remain in the same limbo. I live under a shadow. No one can prove that I am not the heir that I was raised to be. But they can still question it all they like. My existence has become a stain on my family’s name.”

Too many things seem to be whirling around inside of me. I can hardly catch a single one of them. But I can feel the weight of my belly, solid and real.

And I know that some things are true no matter if there are stains or not.

Mychild will not be a scandal.Mychild will not be caught in a trap not of its own making. Not like I was. Not like Taio still is.

I will not be the kind of parent who lets my child suffer.

I will not create that kind of suffering in another person, no matter how little I like to think my childhood affects me now.

But by the same token, I don’t want either this child—or me—to add to Taio’s suffering now, caught in this spiral he can’t seem to escape.

I can see only one way forward. “I came here because I wanted you to know that what happened between us resulted in this baby,” I tell him, and it hurts to keep my voice even, but I manage it. He wanted to protect me, and about something so small. I can protect him, too. “Now you know, Taio. But this does not have to complicate your life. This does not have to add to the stain.”

His eyes darken near enough to midnight. He doesn’t move, and yet it seems as if heexpands. Until it’s as if he’s taken up all the space in this tiny little study, and all the air, too. His eyesblazeat me.

“I beg your pardon?” he asks, very quietly.

Possibly too quietly, because the question seems to sneak over my skin like a lick of a new flame, but I ignore it.

“I’ll sign whatever you like,” I assure him. “I’m obviously perfectly capable of taking care of this child on my own. You don’t have to be involved.” I hold my hands out, though I’m not entirely sure why I feel the need to act the part of the supplicant. “No need for any further stains on your name.Myname is completely unremarkable. No one cares if it’s tattered or torn.”

I can’t tell if what I hear now is the blood in my ears or that clock, still ticking away while we stay where we are. Too still when it feels as if we’re sitting on some kind of volcano.

It’s hard to swallow. My throat hurts.

I can’t look away from him.

“I think you have mistaken my meaning,” Taio says, and I realize that the only way to describe his voice isdangerous. “I do not believe that I am illegitimate, Annagret. I do not accept it. What I do know is that no child of mine will be born without the protection of my name. This I can assure you.”

My lips feel chapped. “What are you talking about?”

“It is very simple.” He lifts a brow, every inch of him the Spanish aristocrat, lord of all he surveys, including me. Maybe especially me. “We must marry at once.”

CHAPTER NINE

Obviously,Isayno.

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