My mother looks hesitant to voice the obvious question.

I sigh. “I know. I can’t have it both ways. I just need some time to think.”

She nods. Then she reaches out and squeezes my hand. It’s one of the most maternal things she’s ever done. “We’ll support you, whatever you decide.”

Tears prickle at my eyes. “Thanks, Mother.” I look back out at the smooth water before she can see them.

We remain sitting there for a while, and for the first time in years, I’m disappointed when she finally stands and leaves me alone.

I employ a brilliant and flawless portrayal of denial over the next several days. I go to class, I go to meetings, I act completely normal. The only time my facade falters is when I meet the concerned gazes of Anne or my mother.

I’ve started sneaking into my father’s study every night and sitting upstairs among the shelves of musty books the same way I did when I was a child. It’s one of the few places in the palace that’s devoid of memories of Jace. That’s when I allow my mind to swim in answerless circles. I imagine telling Jace. Watching our child run through the gardens. Despite what I told my mother, I also picture telling Charles I’m pregnant. Admitting I betrayed him. Asking him to lie for me. I know he would do it. He would forgive me, and he would be a devoted father. But would I be able to live with myself? The only option I’ve definitively ruled out is ending the pregnancy. I’ve never been a believer in fate, but this pregnancy seems fated somehow. A piece of Jace I get to keep, no matter what.

This evening I’m pulled from my thoughts by the sound of a door opening downstairs. I peek over the edge of the metal walkway to watch my father enter his study with Lionel Vanderbilt right behind him.

“I wasn’t expecting you, Lionel.” My father speaks first. “What did you want to discuss?”

“I would like you to tell me what is going on here,” Lionel states as they sit in the pair of armchairs next to the fireplace. His tone is filled with anger.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” my father replies politely.

“I just got a call from John Fairfax. He owns the Sharks football team. Old friend of mine. He tells me Jace Dawson met with his agent to ask what his options are for getting out of his five-year contract.”

My heart stops.

“John’s incensed. I asked him to help get that boy here as a personal favor to me in order to smooth out the mess with the press before the wedding. John convinced him to come here, and now he’s potentially going to lose his star player who’s delivering an undefeated season. Neither of us are under any illusions as to why that might be happening.”