She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 847

"It wasn't just the files," Lucian repeated softly, tapping his chest right over his heart. "Every time I look at you, my head pounds, and my chest physically aches. Even if my brain has been wiped clean, my body remembers you perfectly."

Loyce's gaze softened. A heavy silence stretched between them for a long moment before she finally spoke.

"I'm pregnant."

Lucian froze.

For a split second, he nearly choked on the candy. He bit down hard, the sharp rush of peppermint flooding his tongue, but it did nothing to anchor him against the tidal wave of emotion crashing into his chest.

His eyes dropped to her stomach.

She was wearing a loose, oversized sweater, but now that he was looking, he could see the faint, gentle curve of her lower abdomen.

Lucian's breathing hitched.

He slowly raised his hand, reaching out, but stopped an inch away, his fingers trembling.

"Can I?" he asked, his voice raw, completely stripping away his usual guarded composure.

He didn't ask if it was his. He didn't need to. He knew, in the deepest part of his bones, that this was the absolute proof of what they meant to each other.

Seeing the absolute vulnerability in his eyes, Loyce gave a quiet "Mm."

Lucian let his hand fall, pressing his palm flat against the soft knit fabric over her stomach.

He held it there, completely still, terrified that moving would shatter the moment. The heavy bass and chatter of the club faded into static. All he could focus on was the faint warmth radiating against his skin and the deafening thunder of his own heartbeat.

"How far along?" he asked, his voice thick with unshed emotion.

"A little over three months," Loyce replied quietly, watching the harsh club lights cast long shadows through his eyelashes. "I found out after you left."

Lucian swallowed hard.

*After he left.*

He had left her behind. He had forced her to handle the shock and fear of a pregnancy entirely alone, while he was out here acting like a puppet for Stellar Trust, entertaining Sigrid, and hurting her right to her face.

His hand curled slightly against her sweater, his knuckles turning white.

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