The doctor smiled gently, holding the chart like it was some holy text. “You’re pregnant, Miss Montgomery. Based on your bloodwork and last scans, I’d say roughly five weeks. Most likely conceived before… everything.”

For a second, no one spoke. Not even the walls dared to creak. Then I heard my mother gasp—a sound that broke and bloomed in the same breath. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Pearl…”

My father stood behind her, blinking fast, jaw tight like he didn’t know if he should smile or sit down. Sebastian’s parents were across the room, his mother covering her mouth with both hands, his father whispering something I didn’t catch.

And Sebastian… Sebastian sat up straighter in his bed beside mine, even though he wasn’t supposed to move much. His face, bruised, pale, stitched along the temple—lit up. He reached for my hand, voice low but steady. “You’re safe. Both of you.”

I didn’t even realize I was crying until he wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “I didn’t know,” I whispered. “I didn’t feel… Oh my, I thought I was just broken. Just in pain. I didn’t think there could be… life.”

Sebastian kissed my knuckles. “There is. Because you survived. And because you fought like hell.”

My mother was already fussing, rambling to the nurse, asking for vitamins and specialists and extra blankets like I’d go into labor any second. My dad finally let out a short laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it. “A grandchild,” he said softly. “After everything.”

I looked down at my stomach, still flat under the sheet. Just five weeks. A tiny spark inside the chaos. “I’ll protect you,” I murmured, barely audible. “Just like Luther protected me.”

Sebastian squeezed my hand. “We both will.”

And for the first time since that night, I let myself believe it.

After one month…

The rain had been falling all morning, quiet, constant, like the world was mourning with us. I stood in black, umbrella forgotten somewhere behind me, my heels sinking into the soft dirt in front of Luther’s grave. The marble was fresh. Too fresh.

Luther Wright. Brother. Soldier. Shield.

My fingers brushed the edge of the stone. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “You didn’t even hesitate. You threw yourself in front of that bullet like I mattered more.”

I crouched slowly, placing a small white rose at the base. My body still ached from everything—stitches, bruises, grief. But I stayed still, letting the rain soak into my bones.

The sound of wheels on wet gravel caught my ear. I turned. Jacob.

His face was pale, gaunt. A fresh scar across his jaw. Arm in a sling. The bullet that nearly ended him hadn’t taken his life—but something in him had still died. Maybe… maybe it was Luther.

He stopped beside me, his voice barely a rasp. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“You saved me, Jacob. And Luther paid for it. We both live with that.”

His eyes filled. Not the loud kind of cry. The kind that breaks silently. I reached out, offered my hand. He took it. His grip trembled.

“I… I miss him every second,” he said.

“I know…”

We stood there like that, the rain mingling with tears neither of us wanted to name. After a long silence, I leaned closer to Luther’s grave and whispered, “Thank you.”

I think the wind shifted just then. Or maybe I imagined it. But it felt like a goodbye. And a promise.

Jacob came to see me one last time before leaving the country. He looked like hell—scars, bruises, but his eyes held something softer, something honest.

“I’ll never stop regretting,” he said quietly, voice thick. “But I’m done haunting you. That’s the last thing Luther would’ve wanted.”

I nodded, blinking back tears I didn’t want to admit. “Thank you… for everything you did. For trying.”

He gave me a sad smile. “Europe’s calling. New life, fewer ghosts. I’m sorry for everything, Pearl.” He left the next day. Gone. Like a ghost finally laid to rest.

Then came the trial. Lavenia was a lunatic on the stand—ranting about how I stole her life, her chance, her fate. But the court wasn’t buying her psychotic manifesto. She was sentenced to life in prison. No parole. No second chances. Her empire crumbled. Her name became a warning whispered in the dark.

Then Sebastian and I came back swinging. The public treated me like royalty, but this time I wasn’t just surviving—I was rewriting the rules. I rebranded the company with a new mission: ethical power, legacy, and protection—not just for me, but for everyone who believed in us. Sebastian ran security and logistics, my shield. I became the face of resilience.

At the big press conference, I said:

“I’ve been broken, betrayed, and beaten. But I’m still here. We’re not just surviving—we’re rising. This is our rebirth, and we’re doing it on our terms.”

The applause was loud. My heart was loud. Our future was loud.

Chapter 27