Page 84 of Under His Control

I’m confused as I look back and forth between the two of them, trying to absorb the words, my mind racing. Taylor turns back to me; desperation etched into every line of her lovely face. “I had leukemia as a kid. The treatments damaged my fertility. Doctors told me I probably would never be able to conceive. But?—”

Her words become a distant echo, drowned out by the sudden roar of blood in my ears. A marriage. TheHospitium. My family legacy. Everything I’ve fought for hinges on me having a child. She never disclosed this critical fact. Anger coils within, intertwined with sharp betrayal.

My jaw clenches. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Keeping it from you wasn’t intentional—” she starts.

Damas interrupts smoothly, mockingly. “Without an heir, you lose everything—marriage or not. Our parents were clear.”

“I know what the damn will says,” I hiss.

Taylor looks from me to Damas, then back at me again, confused.

I step closer, my voice low, barely restrained. “Why didn’t you tell me this before we got married?”

“Because saving my brother was the most important thing at that time. You told me you needed to be married for a year. You didn’t say I needed to give you an heir.”

That hits. Hard.

I take a deep breath.

She’s right. We both had our agendas.

And that only makes me angrier.

Angrier because I care. Angrier because I let my guard down. Angrier because Damas is standing there, watching us unravel like it’s his favorite TV show.

Taylor reaches for me again, her voice trembling. “Please, Anatoly. Can we discuss this privately?”

The plea softens me slightly, but anger still pulses hot beneath my skin. I step back, heart wrenching at the pain etched on her face. “I need some time.”

Without another word, I leave, Damas’s bitter laughter chasing me down the hall.

Soon I’m back in my car, the lights of Vegas fading in my rearview mirror. I drive fast, pushing the powerful engine to its limit, seeking clarity, seeking a place where I can no longer feel my heart breaking. The desert unfolds around me, harsh and honest in a way the city could never be.

I pull over abruptly, tires crunching over gravel and sand, and kill the engine. Silence crashes down, heavy and oppressive. I step out, the night air sharp, cooling the sweat at my temples. My chest heaves, emotion warring violently inside.

Taylor.

Her frightened eyes, her desperate embrace. The trust I saw there, wounded but still present. I see her clearly in the darkness, feel her presence despite her absence. The idea of losing her sends panic clawing at my chest.

But without a child, I lose everything—the legacy I've spent my life preserving. TheHospitiumis my heritage, my family honor. My father built it; my mother cherished it. Their dying wish was clear, binding.

Producing an heir is non-negotiable.

I pace restlessly, rage and sorrow coiling together. I love her. Goddammit, I am utterly, irrevocably in love with Taylor. This is no longer just a contract or convenience; it’s real. It’s dangerous. It’s complicated.

How do I choose between the woman who holds my heart, and the legacy engraved in my blood?

My throat tightens. Despite our initial agendas, she gave herself to me entirely, and I’ve repaid that trust by doubting her intentions and leaving her alone to face Damas’s cruelty. The realization burns shamefully.

The desert wind whispers softly, cool and constant, indifferent to my turmoil. Stars glitter overhead, distant and unhelpful. My shoulders sag, exhaustion pulling at me. In my life, choices have always been black and white. Business decisions, precise and logical. But now, everything is blurred, messy.

Would I be able to walk away from theHospitium, from the power, the legacy? Would she even stay with me if I did?

But what if…?

A sudden, fierce thought strikes me. What if what Taylor was told is wrong? Doctors aren’t gods. Predictions fail; miracles happen. What if we could still have a child somehow? Could love bridge the impossible?