Page 60 of No Merciful Corruption

Alejandro frowns and says, “Of course it’d still be mine. It’d be coming from you.”

He’s so raw and sincere when he looks at me. It takes my breath away.

“Alejandro…” my throat tightens. “I do love you. Madly. I hope you know that.”

“Hm,” his mind is a million miles away. “If it wasn’t yours than whose was it?”

“This house is full of women. It could be anyone’s.”

“Karina?”

I shake my head. “She hasn’t even been here twelve hours. Besides, Lyss is the one always in and out of my room.”

He lifts a brow. “Do you think she and Rian…?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“She said nothing has happened between them. Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

Someone enters the kitchen and our heads snap around. Lyss looks up and her eyes widen the second she realizes she’s being watched like a hawk.

Her footfalls slow as she reaches the trashcan and tosses the banana peel inside. “Why are you guys staring at me?”

“Are you pregnant?” I ask.

“Pregnant?”

Two voices overlap at once. Karina reappears and I remember she was in the bathroom a moment ago. Her face blanches. “Who’s pregnant?”

“Alyssa.” Alejandro says.

My best friend’s jaw drops both in shock and disgust. “Ew, no I’m not!”

“Well, it’s not Doña Ana.” I say, stating the obvious.

As if on cue, she passes through the hall balancing a basket of laundry on her hip while Diego follows close behind. He parts ways with her and joins us in the kitchen. Immediately, his blue eyes ping-pong between four different faces, each one bearing varied expressions of horror, shock, confusion, and perhaps a hint of entertainment on my end.

“It’s not mine!” she insists. “That’s tantamount to a teen pregnancy. I’m not even thirty!”

“Okay, well, there’s a positive pregnancy test in my bathroom right now and if it’s not mine and it’s not yours then whose⁠—”

“It’s mine.”

Four necks break in tandem as we swivel in the direction of the disembodied voice.

Karina can barely look any of us in the eye. “The test is mine. I’m pregnant.”

KARINA AND DIEGO HAVE A SECRET

Dahlia

I’ve suddenly lost all fluency in the English language.

“Wha—” I choke on my own tongue. “How⁠—”

My cousin buries her face in her hands and stumbles onto the breakfast nook bench behind her.

“You…you can’t be.” I utter in disbelief. “Who the Hell is the father!”