Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 70

Elena: POV

The words hung in the air like poison gas.

*Would you consider—*

I stared at Julian. At his perfect face. His careful expression. The way his hands gripped the steering wheel like he was discussing a stock portfolio instead of our baby's life.

"What did you just say?" My voice came out small. Distant. Like it belonged to someone else.

Julian's jaw tightened. "Elena, I'm just asking if we should think about our options—"

"Options." I repeated the word slowly. Tasted its ugliness. "You mean killing our baby."

"That's not—" He exhaled sharply. "That's not what I'm saying."

"Then what ARE you saying?" I twisted in my seat to face him fully. "Because it sounds like you're asking me to terminate this pregnancy."

The trees along Central Park blurred past us. Bare branches clawing at the gray November sky. I wanted to open the door and run. Just run until my lungs gave out.

"I'm saying we need to be realistic." Julian's voice was clinical. Detached. "One in fifteen, Elena. That's not a small probability. If the amniocentesis comes back showing Down syndrome or another chromosomal abnormality—"

"Stop." I pressed both hands against my stomach. "Just stop."

"We have to discuss this—"

"He has a heartbeat!" The words exploded out of me. "I saw it today. On that screen. His heart was beating."

"I know." Julian's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. "But if there's a serious issue, we need to consider what that means. For the child's quality of life. For—"

"Quality of life?" I couldn't breathe. "You're talking about quality of life?"

"Yes." He pulled over abruptly. Right there on the side of the road. Turned to face me with those cold blue eyes. "Do you understand what special needs care involves? The constant medical interventions? The therapies? The fact that this child might never be independent?"

"So?" My voice cracked. "So you think children who aren't perfect don't deserve to live?"

"That's not what I'm saying—"

"Then what? What are you saying, Julian?" I was shouting now. I never shouted. "Because it sounds like you're saying if our baby isn't good enough for you, we should just... what? Throw him away?"

"Elena." His voice dropped. Dangerous. "You're being emotional."

"I'M BEING A MOTHER!"

The silence that followed was deafening.

I watched his throat work. Watched him choose his next words carefully. Like he was negotiating a merger.

"I'm thinking about practical realities," he said finally. "The financial burden. The emotional toll. What happens to this child when we're gone? Who takes care of them then?"

"We do." I was crying now. Hot, angry tears. "That's what parents do, Julian. We take care of our children. No matter what."

"Even if that child will suffer—"

"You don't know that!" I slammed my hand against the dashboard. "You don't know anything! The test isn't even back yet and you're already planning to—" I couldn't say it. Couldn't make those words real.

Julian reached for my hand. I jerked away.

"Don't touch me."

"Elena—"

"You said I wasn't worthy of having your baby." My voice shook. "Three years ago. You said those exact words. And now that I'm pregnant, now that there might be something 'wrong,' you don't want it anyway."

"That's not fair—"

"Fair?" I laughed. It sounded broken. "You want to talk about fair?"

He rubbed his temples. I'd never seen him do that before. Never seen him look anything less than perfectly controlled.

"I'm trying to think about the future," he said quietly. "About what's best—"

"For who?" I cut him off. "For the baby? Or for you?"

"For all of us."

"Liar." The word came out flat. Dead. "You're thinking about yourself. About how it would look. Julian Sterling with a defective child. What would your parents say? What would the board think?"

His face went pale. "That's not—"

"Yes, it is." I wiped my eyes roughly. "You've never wanted this baby. Not really. To you, he's just another business decision. Another problem to solve."

"You're wrong."

"Am I?" I stared at him. Really looked at him. At the stranger wearing my husband's face. "Then tell me. Right now. Tell me that no matter what the results say, you want this child."

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

The silence stretched between us like barbed wire.

"You can't even say it," I whispered.

"Elena, it's not that simple—"

"Yes, it is." I turned away. Stared out the window at the joggers in the park. At the nannies pushing strollers. At the world that kept spinning while mine fell apart. "It's the simplest thing in the world."

"You're not being rational—"

"And you're not being human!" I whirled back to face him. "Do you hear yourself? You're talking about our baby like he's a defective product. Like we can just... return him if he doesn't meet specifications!"

"That's not what I meant—"

"Then what did you mean?" My voice rose again. "Explain it to me, Julian. Because I'm just a stupid girl from the servants' quarters. I don't understand your big fancy medical reasoning."

"Don't do that." His eyes flashed. "Don't throw that in my face."

"Why not?" I was shaking now. Couldn't stop. "You've been throwing it in mine for three years. Not good enough. Not smart enough. Not worthy—"

"I never said that—"

"YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO!"

The words echoed in the car. Julian flinched like I'd hit him.

"I felt it," I continued, quieter now. Deadlier. "Every day. Every time you looked at me. Every time you fucked me and walked away. Every time you chose Victoria over me."

"This isn't about Victoria—"

"Everything is about Victoria!" I laughed again. That same broken sound. "She's the one you want. The perfect one. The one who would never give you a defective baby—"

"Stop it." His voice was sharp. "Just stop."

"Make me." I leaned forward. Got right in his face. "Go ahead. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you actually want this baby. Our baby. No matter what."

His jaw clenched. Those blue eyes stormy.

But he said nothing.

"That's what I thought." I sat back. Felt something inside me go cold. Hard. "Drive."

"Elena—"

"Just drive. Please."

He started the car. The engine purred to life. Smooth and expensive and utterly wrong.

We drove in silence.

Past the park. Through Midtown. Through the iron gates of the Sterling estate. The doorman—no, the security guard—greeted us with his usual nod. I didn't acknowledge him.

The car pulled up the long circular driveway. Past the fountain. Past the manicured gardens that probably cost more to maintain than my mother made in a year.

Julian parked in front of the main entrance. The mansion loomed above us—all stone and glass and old money. A monument to everything I'd never be.

Inside, everything looked the same. Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. That sweeping staircase that used to make me feel like Cinderella.

Now it just felt like a cage.

I headed for our wing. Julian's footsteps echoed behind me in the cavernous hallway.

He caught my arm near the bedroom door.

"Let go."

"Not until we finish this conversation—"

"There's nothing to finish." I jerked free. "You made your position very clear."

"I didn't say I wanted you to terminate—"

"You asked if I would consider it." I turned to face him. "That's the same thing."

"It's not—"

"To me it is!" My voice broke. "To me, that baby is already real. Already mine. Already someone I would die for."

His face did something complicated. "Elena—"

"No." I held up a hand. "Let me finish. You asked me a question. Now I'm going to answer it."

I took a breath. Steadied myself.

"I don't care what the AFP levels are. I don't care what the amniocentesis says. I don't care if this baby has Down syndrome or any other condition." I pressed both hands to my stomach. "He's mine. And I'm keeping him."

"You're not thinking clearly—"

"I'm thinking perfectly clearly." I stepped closer. Made sure he saw every word. "This baby is in my body. He's part of me. And nothing—NOTHING—is going to make me give him up."

"Even if it means a lifetime of struggle—"

"Yes."

"Even if the child suffers—"

"Children suffer anyway!" I was shouting again. "Perfect children suffer! Healthy children suffer! That's what life is!"

"Elena—"