CHAPTER 310: OHH

Only to be taken aback as she watched the woman in front of her smile as she gently rubbed her belly, lowering her head in a shy manner.

Yet someone Fiona could see right through her act considering the fact that someone that was truly shy wouldn’t just up their shoulders so high, with only her eyes glied to the ground while her head was raised high.

"I-I’m not sure it would be good for you to know!" she responded with a grammar and a tone that hinted on what she should already know.

Fervor spoke next and he didn’t mince his words.

"She says it could be William’s but it doesn’t matter. As long as the child is thought to be yours," Fervor said, his tone cool and unaffected, like he’d just announced the weather.

Fiona’s eyes flickered sharply to Carissa, who still held that coy little smile, one hand brushing over her belly as though to remind them both of what hung in the balance.

"Carissa is also discreet," he added. "She knows better than to leak out such a secret."

"You trust her that much?" Fiona snapped, her voice cutting through the room like the crack of a whip.

Her disbelief was not subtle. The contempt laced in her words made Carissa flinch ever so slightly, though her smile never quite disappeared. She shifted her weight to the other foot, shoulders still too high to truly play the role of the shy, demure woman she pretended to be.

Fervor turned to Fiona, his stare weighing heavy with unspoken warning. "Your family is under my protection."

The words landed in the room like iron dropped on glass.

Fiona’s breath caught in her throat. Her fists clenched at her sides. Of course. Of course he would say that now—draw a line so sharply that it felt like the edge of a blade against her skin. It wasn’t just a statement. It was a reminder. A threat wrapped in velvet.

Carissa’s eyes flicked toward him and then back to Fiona. She dipped her head in a subtle nod, small and swift—but unmistakable. She understood the threat. Obey, or consequences would follow.

Fervor seemed satisfied by her silent acknowledgment. He took a step forward as if to continue, but before he could utter a word, there was a knock at the door.

"Commander," a guard’s voice called from outside. "You’re needed. Urgently."

Fervor clicked his tongue with mild annoyance. "Of course," he muttered under his breath, then looked back at Fiona. "This conversation isn’t over."

Then he left, his cloak billowing behind him as he stepped out. The door thudded softly shut in his wake, leaving the two women alone in the charged silence of the room.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

The candlelight flickered across Carissa’s face, highlighting the shadows under her eyes, the glint of something calculated behind the veil of modesty she wore so carefully. She adjusted her posture, let her hand fall away from her stomach, and stood just a little straighter.

"You should watch how you speak to him," Carissa said finally, voice low and quiet, but far from timid.

Fiona scoffed, taking a step forward. "You should watch how you pretend."

Carissa’s lips twitched—not quite a smile, not quite a sneer. "Pretending has gotten me this far. Has it not?"

Fiona narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms. "And what exactly is ’this far’? Lying about a child that might not even be his? Smiling while you play at innocence? Hiding behind Fervor’s favor like a coward?"

Carissa met her gaze, steady and unblinking. "Cowardice would be refusing to do what I must to survive. You don’t understand what it’s like to have nothing, Fiona. You’ve always had something—someone—to shield you. I had to learn quickly that being good wasn’t enough."

Fiona’s voice sharpened. "So now you manipulate him? Use your body like a pawn just to earn your way in? Don’t lecture me about survival. At least I never tried to pass off someone else’s child as someone else’s responsibility."

Carissa’s expression hardened. "You think I wanted this?"

"I think you wanted something," Fiona retorted. "And you were willing to fake softness and loyalty to get it."

Carissa blinked slowly, and for the first time, the cracks in her mask began to show. Her eyes shimmered slightly—tears, or fury, it wasn’t clear—but her voice stayed even.

"You think I don’t see how you look at him? Like you deserve more than the rest of us. Like you own him."

Fiona didn’t answer right away. She inhaled deeply, struggling to cool the heat rising up in her chest. Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke. "You have no idea how I look at him."

"Yes, you do," Carissa said without hesitation. "You think being smarter, louder, angrier makes you better. It doesn’t."

There was a beat of silence between them. Only the soft creak of old wood in the walls and the hum of distant noise from outside dared to interrupt.

Fiona’s shoulders dropped an inch. "You’re scared," she said simply. "You act brave, but I saw the way you nodded when he mentioned your family. You think if you stay useful, you’ll be safe."

Carissa didn’t respond.

"But here’s the thing," Fiona continued, stepping closer. "He might protect you today. He might even pretend to care. But men like Fervor don’t love. They own. And when he doesn’t need you anymore—when this ’child’ becomes inconvenient—you’ll see what kind of man he really is."

Carissa’s throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. She lowered her gaze for the first time in the conversation, then whispered, "Maybe. But until then, I’ll stay alive."

"And you think that’s living?"

Carissa glanced up, their eyes locking again. "It’s surviving. That’s more than most of us get."

"Like that’s not what you’re also trying to do!" she said her voice free more heated than before.

Fiona didn’t answer. She turned and walked a few steps away, needing space from the woman whose lies had slithered too close to the truth. She clenched her jaw, trying to ignore the storm inside her.

"Tell me the truth," Fiona said suddenly, not turning around. "Is it William’s?"

Carissa was silent.

The seconds dragged.

Then, softly: "Does it matter?"

Fiona slowly turned back to face her. "To me, it does."

Carissa held her gaze. "Then yes."

Fiona narrowed her eyes. "Yes, it is William’s, or yes, you’re lying again?"

Carissa gave her the faintest smile. "You’ll never know. And that’s the point."

The door creaked open again, and both women turned toward it, startled. A different guard poked his head in.

"Fervor won’t be long. He asked you both to remain here and wait for him or leave if you’d rather not," the guard said before pulling the door shut.

The door shut once more, leaving them alone again, though now the tension had dulled—less like a knife, more like the weight of chains.

Carissa sat down slowly on the edge of a nearby chair, hands returning to her belly like instinct. Fiona stayed standing, eyes unfocused as she tried to think past her fury.

They didn’t speak again.

They didn’t need to.

The silence between them was loud enough.