How many hours had it been? Three? Four? Maybe more. Time had lost all meaning for Lorenzo Collins as he stood motionless outside the cold, sterile doors of the operating room. Each tick of the clock felt like a thunderclap, echoing through the hollow silence around him. The man once hailed as unshakable—the Duke of Westminster, a name that commanded nations—now looked like a ghost of himself. His usual air of authority had crumbled under the weight of fear.

He was no longer the ruler of boardrooms or the master of a thousand men. Right now, he was just a brother. A helpless, desperate brother praying for a miracle.

The hospital had gone into lockdown the moment Ella was brought in. No outsiders allowed. Only Collins men stationed at every entrance, their presence a silent threat to anyone who dared disturb the peace. Outside, the rain lashed against the windows like a fury that mirrored his own. The sky hung heavy and grey, mourning with him.

Lorenzo sat hunched in one of the faded chairs, his elbows resting on his knees, his face buried in his hands. Beside him stood Ryan—his most trusted man, his right hand, his shadow in all things. But tonight, even Ryan was a stranger to this version of his lord. He had seen Lorenzo ruthless, furious, calculated—but never like this. Never broken.

The Collins were a name etched into the very fabric of the UK’s nobility. Untouchable. Feared. Revered. But now, as Lorenzo trembled in silence, it was clear even gods could bleed.

Ella. The Lady of Westminster. His sister. His pride. Lying somewhere behind those doors between life and death.

Rage burned hot in Ryan’s chest. It clawed at his insides, a growing storm with only one name to blame: the Sullivans. He clenched his fists, jaw tight, his loyalty warring with his instincts. If Lorenzo weren’t drowning in fear and grief, Ryan would’ve already demanded action. Blood. Retribution. But even that wasn’t the only reason for his silence.

The Sullivans weren’t just any enemy. They were royalty—the ruling family of Russia. Powerful. Untouchable. That was the price of peace. The reason Ella had married Liam Sullivan in the first place.

But peace had come at a cost. And now that cost was being paid in blood.

On the other side of the city,

Liam’s hands gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline. The engine roared beneath him as he sped through the rain-slicked streets, his foot heavy on the accelerator. The wipers thrashed uselessly against the storm, but the blur in his eyes wasn’t just from the weather—it was from the tears he hadn’t realized were falling.

His breath came fast, shallow. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, too loud, too fast, like it was trying to escape. Behind him, three black cars followed closely—his men, his protection—but right now, he felt utterly exposed. Naked. Terrified.

He couldn’t shake Tyrone’s voice in his head. “Her highness’s been in an accident.”

That was all it took to shatter his world.

He should’ve been there. He should’ve protected her. But he’d been in a damn meeting, talking business while the woman he was supposed to keep safe was bleeding somewhere on a cold operating table.

The rain blurred the lights around him, but the guilt blurred everything else.

His knuckles were white on the wheel.

God… Ella.

For the first time in his life, he was afraid. Not the fear of losing a deal. Not the fear of war. But the fear of losing her.

That’s when it hit him.

He was in love with her.

Not for diplomacy. Not for appearances. He loved her. Fiercely. Desperately. And he might have been the reason she was lying in that hospital right now.

And worse- he might be the reason their child was dying.

Flashback

5 months ago.

Liam stood at the doorway, the weight of the butler’s words still echoing in his head.

She hasn’t allowed anyone to touch her… and it looks like she has been crying.

He stepped in quietly, almost unsure if he had the right to. The room was dim, curtains drawn shut, the air heavy with silence and shame. Ella sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a sheet, her back to him, shoulders stiff. The sheets around her were wrinkled, tangled—marked. A vivid red stain on the fabric made Liam freeze mid-step.

He swallowed hard.

“Ella…” His voice was hoarse. Guilt lodged deep in his chest.

She turned her head slightly, enough for him to see her swollen eyes and tear-streaked face. “You’re finally done pretending nothing happened?”

Liam said nothing. What could he say?

She scoffed bitterly. “You don’t get to stand there in silence, Liam. Not after last night.”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

“But it did.” Her voice cracked, but she pushed through it. “You came home angry. You didn’t ask. You didn’t listen. You just took.”

He stepped forward, trying to bridge the gap between them, but she recoiled instinctively.

“You think I don’t know what that was about?” she spat. “You saw me dancing with someone else and you got jealous. You acted like you didn’t care for three months and suddenly one dance was too much for your pride to take?”

Liam’s jaw tensed. “He had no right to touch you.”

“He had more right than you did last night,” she shot back.

The words hit like a slap. She stood now, the sheet clutched around her, her expression filled with a rage she’d held back for too long.

“You’ve ignored me for months. Barely spoken to me outside of public appearances. I was fine with it. I didn’t expect love—I didn’t even expect kindness. But last night…” her voice trembled, “you didn’t treat me like a person. You treated me like something to conquer.”

“I lost control,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“No,” she said coldly. “You made a choice.”

Silence.

Liam didn’t try to explain again. He just looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time in weeks. She was hurt. Alone. Angry. And all of it was because of him.

She turned her back to him. “Leave.”

He hesitated, but her voice was firmer this time. “Leave. Now.”

Liam’s chest tightened as he backed away. The door clicked shut behind him. Only then did he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He didn’t know then that last night would change everything. That her tears would haunt him.

That in her brokenness, something irreversible had begun.

Flashback

4 months ago.

The room was silent except for the sound of the rain lightly tapping against the windows. Ella lay on the bed, pale and weak, her breaths shallow but steady. A faint flush touched her cheeks as she blinked slowly, returning to consciousness. Her hand instinctively gripped the sheet beneath her as her eyes adjusted to the light—and then to the three figures standing around her bed.

Liam. Tyrone. And the royal physician.

“What… what happened?” she asked softly, her voice dry.

“You fainted,” the doctor said gently, checking her pulse again. “You lost consciousness in the hallway. One of the maids saw you fall.”

Liam stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, eyes locked on her. He looked… conflicted. Tense. But not cold.

Ella avoided his gaze.

The doctor cleared his throat, removing his stethoscope and glancing briefly at Tyrone before turning back to her. “Your Highness… I ran a few quick tests to make sure everything was stable. Your blood pressure was low, and I suspect some iron deficiency. But… that’s not the reason you fainted.”

Ella frowned, sitting up slowly. “Then what is?”

There was a pause—just long enough to be noticed.

“You’re pregnant, Your Highness.”

The words dropped like a stone into water, rippling through the room. Ella’s breath caught. Her fingers clenched the sheet. She didn’t speak—she couldn’t.

Behind the doctor, Tyrone’s eyes flicked toward Liam, but he said nothing. He knew better than to interfere in this.

Liam took a step forward, but his expression was unreadable—somewhere between stunned and something deeper. Regret? Fear?

“No,” Ella finally whispered, more to herself than anyone else. “That’s not possible.”

“You’re roughly five weeks along,” the doctor said, gentle but firm. “Based on your last cycle and the symptoms… everything lines up.”

Ella blinked at him, her body still but her mind racing. Five weeks. The night. That night.

She turned her head sharply toward Liam. “You did this.”

He didn’t flinch. “We both did.”

Her laugh was dry, humorless. “Don’t you dare pretend this was mutual. You know what that night was.”

“I’m not pretending anything,” Liam said, his voice low. “But it happened. And now…”

He didn’t finish. Couldn’t. The weight of what “now” meant hung between them like fog.

Ella turned her face away, eyes glassy. “Get out. All of you.”

The doctor opened his mouth to object, but Liam raised a hand.

“We’ll give you space.”

Tyrone and the doctor stepped out. Liam lingered for just a second longer.

“I’ll make arrangements,” he said quietly. “Whatever you need.”

She didn’t look at him.

Liam left.

And as the door clicked shut, Ella sat there, staring ahead—at nothing. Inside her, a child was growing. A child born of anger, of power, of a night she never wanted to remember.

And yet, it was real.

Flashback continues

As the door closed behind them, Liam exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. His mind was spinning—five weeks. A child. His child. And Ella’s silence had cut deeper than any scream ever could.

Tyrone followed him down the hallway, face unreadable but voice calm. “We need to increase security around Her Highness.”

Liam paused. “Why?”

“You were nearly killed three weeks ago, Liam,” Tyrone said plainly. “Someone tried to send a message. And now that she’s pregnant, she’s more vulnerable than ever. If anyone finds out…”

“No one will find out,” Liam cut in, his voice sharp. “Not yet.”

Tyrone raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want her family told?”

“Especially not them,” Liam said. “Not until I say so. No press. No staff gossip. No whisper of it beyond us three. I want it locked down tighter than the vault beneath the Kremlin.”

“Understood.” Tyrone hesitated. “But Ella deserves to have—”

“I know what she deserves.” Liam’s voice cracked, then softened. “And right now, the best thing I can give her is time. And silence.”

Tyrone gave a small nod. “I’ll handle it.”

As he walked away, Liam stood still in the corridor, alone for a long moment. He stared at the door to Ella’s room—haunted by what he’d done, and what was now at stake.

He hadn’t protected her. Not from himself. Not from the threats. Not from the weight of a crown she never asked for.

And now… she was carrying a child neither of them were ready for.

⸻

Present Day – In the Car

The memory hit Liam like a punch to the chest.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles white. The rain hadn’t stopped, hammering the windshield like bullets. But he didn’t feel the cold anymore. Just the guilt.

You didn’t keep her safe.

He had promised himself he would. After that night. After that moment. After watching her lie in that bed, pregnant and alone.

And now here he was—racing through the streets, chasing the sound of sirens and silence. Chasing the hope that it wasn’t too late.

Behind him, Tyrone’s voice came through the radio, trying to give updates. Liam didn’t hear a word. All he could think about was Ella.

Her pale face. Her voice shaking with fury. Her eyes full of pain.

And the way he never made it right.

Please… be okay, he thought, heart pounding. Don’t take her away from me now.

For the first time in his life, Liam prayed.

And pressed harder on the accelerator.

Hello guys! My name is.. let’s just call me Lala, I am 18 years old and am very new to this app! And very excited to show my work to you guys.

So, guys!! I need your reviews about how do you think the novel is! This is my first ever work and I hope you guys will enjoy reading it! Lots of love! And please please let me know how do you like it and what do you expect in the next episodes!🫶🏻