After, the drive back to the estate passes in comfortable silence, Felix’s hand resting on my thigh while he reviews messages on his phone with the other. I watch the city lights blur past and rehearse conversations that all sound inadequate when measured against the magnitude of what I’m about to tell him.
I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby. Everything changes now.
None of the framings feel sufficient.
By the time we reach the estate, my heart is hammering hard enough that I’m certain Felix can hear it. He helps me from the vehicle with movements that are careful and attentive, his concern barely masked beneath the controlled exterior he maintains.
“Office or bedroom?” he asks as we enter the main house.
“Office.” The conversation feels too significant for the bedroom, too intimate for the clinical detachment I might need to maintain composure.
Felix guides me to his office and settles into the chair behind his desk, gesturing for me to take the seat across from him. The formal positioning helps—creates distance that makes speaking easier than if we were pressed together on the couch.
I pull the pregnancy test from my purse and set it on his desk without preamble, the three lines visible even from where he’s sitting.
Felix stares at it for several long seconds, his expression unreadable. Then his gaze lifts to meet mine, something shifting in his pale eyes that I can’t fully interpret.
“You’re pregnant.” His voice is quiet, almost reverent.
“Yes. About six weeks based on the timeline.” I watch him carefully, trying to gauge reaction that’s buried beneath control he hasn’t released. “I took the test this morning, wanted to tell you tonight after the gala ended.”
He reaches for the test, picking it up with movements that are gentle despite the tension radiating through his shoulders. His fingers trace the lines that confirm pregnancy with touches that feel almost disbelieving.
“Six weeks,” he repeats slowly. “Which means…”
“Felix, say something. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Instead of answering, he stands and moves around the desk, pulling me up and into his arms with enough force that I gasp slightly. His hands splay across my lower back, holding me against him while his face presses into my hair.
“You’re carrying my child.” The words come out muffled but audible. “We’re having a baby.”
Relief floods through me at the awe in his voice rather than fear or uncertainty. “Yes. Are you—is this okay? We never discussed whether children were something you wanted.”
Felix pulls back enough to meet my eyes, his expression carrying vulnerability I’ve learned to recognize as genuine emotion breaking through practiced control. “I never thought about children. Avoided the possibility deliberately because attachment creates vulnerability I couldn’t afford.”
“Now?”
“Now you’re pregnant and I can’t separate terror from something that feels uncomfortably close to joy.” His hand slides from my back to rest against my stomach, palm flat against fabric that shows no visible changes yet. “This is—Diana, this changes everything.”
“I know.” I cover his hand with mine, holding it against my stomach. “Everything about our lives will shift. Security protocols, operational planning, the risks you take, and the decisions I make. We’re responsible for someone beyond just ourselves now.”
“Someone we created together.” His voice carries wonder that makes my chest tighten. “A child who will grow up inside this world with parents who understand it thoroughly enough to protect them properly.”
The framing is quintessentially Felix—immediately calculating how to shield someone who doesn’t exist yet from threats that might not materialize for years. But beneath the strategic thinking, I hear the attachment already forming.
“Are you scared?” I ask quietly.
“Terrified.” The admission is honest and raw. “I’ve spent my entire life maintaining control over variables I can predict and manage. A child introduces chaos I can’t fully prepare for. I’m also—” He stops, searching for words. “I want this. Want to build something with you that goes beyond operational partnerships and strategic marriages. Want to see what we create together when given the chance.”
Tears gather despite my effort to maintain composure. “I want that too. Want to raise someone with you who learns to navigate this world competently while maintaining values that matter.”
Felix kisses me softly, his hand still resting against my stomach with touches that feel protective and reverent. When we separate, his expression has shifted into something more focused.
“We’ll need to adjust security immediately. Increase perimeter coverage, vet household staff more thoroughly, establish protocols for medical appointments and—”
“Felix.” I catch his face with both hands, forcing him to focus on me rather than spinning into tactical planning. “We have months to prepare. Tonight just… be here with me. Process this without immediately shifting into protection mode.”
He exhales slowly, tension releasing incrementally. “You’re right. I’m already calculating threat scenarios when we should be—” He pauses. “What should we be doing?”
