1 MONTH LATER
JAY JAY POV
One month has passed since the warehouse incident, and you'd think Keifer would have learned his lesson about leaving me. But no.
"I have some urgent business at the docks, Jay. I'll be back in an hour. Don't leave the house," he had said, kissing me on the forehead before rushing out with Jare and Percy.
That was over an hour ago.
I was currently pacing the length of our master suite, one hand supporting the bottom of my six-month-old bump and the other firmly on my hip. I felt like a ticking time bomb of hormones and boredom. Keifer might be able to intimidate rival gangs and international smugglers, but he was about to face his toughest opponent yet: his very pregnant, very annoyed wife.
"That idiot," I muttered, stopping in front of the full-length mirror. I looked down at my stomach. "Did you hear that, little one? Your dad left us alone in this giant, lonely house. We should definitely go on strike. No more back rubs for him for a week."
The baby responded with a sharp kick to my ribs, as if agreeing with the plan.
I waddled toward the window, looking out over the sprawling estate. Of course, I wasn't technically alone. I knew there were at least twenty guards stationed in the gardens, and another ten at the gates. I could see the glint of sun off the sniper rifles on the perimeter walls.
But I felt alone. Mia was at her doctor's appointment, and Amy was out baby shopping with a small army of bodyguards.
"I'm bored, I'm hungry, and my feet are swelling," I complained to the empty room.
I decided to head downstairs to the kitchen to see if I could find something to satisfy the craving for spicy pickles and chocolate I'd been having. As I slowly made my way down the grand staircase, the silence of the mansion felt heavy.
"If he's not back in ten minutes, I'm calling him and telling him I've gone into labor," I whispered with a devious smirk. "That'll teach him to leave me here to rot."
I sat at the kitchen island for a few minutes, shoveling a spoonful of Nutella into my mouth. "Don't judge me," I whispered to the bump. "Your dad is the one who stressed us out."
Once I'd had my sugar fix, I decided it was time for my "daily exercise." Since Keifer had practically put me on house arrest, my only cardio was exploring the corners of this massive mansion. I wandered down the East Wing, my hand trailing along the wall.
I stopped at Keiran's room first, then Keigan's. I pushed the doors open slightly, feeling a pang of loneliness. The rooms felt too still, too perfect. Keiran had been so hyped to be a tito , but London was the safest place for him to finish school under the watchful eyes of Keifer's Tito and Tita. And Keigan... he was basically my second doctor at this point, calling me every morning to check my vitals over the phone and lecturing me about my midterms-level "stress management."
"They'll be here soon," I reminded myself. "Just a few more months and this house will be loud again."
I kept walking, turning into a hallway I usually ignored because it lead toward the back of the estate. At the very end of the corridor, past a heavy velvet curtain, stood a door I'd honestly never noticed before. It was made of dark, polished oak with an ornate silver handle. Unlike the other rooms, there was no nameplate, no dust, and the air around it felt... different.
"I've never seen this room before," I muttered.
I checked my watch. Keifer was still MIA. My curiosity, fueled by pregnancy boredom and a Nutella high, took over.
"Should we look?" I asked the baby. A soft flutter in my stomach was all the permission I needed.
I reached out and turned the silver handle, surprised to find it wasn't locked. The door creaked open smoothly, revealing a room flooded with a soft, warm glow that felt entirely different from the rest of the cold, limestone mansion.
I stepped inside, my breath catching in my throat. This wasn't just a room; it was a sanctuary. The walls were covered in rows of frames—dozens of photos of Keifer when he was little, alongside Aunt Serina, Keigan, and Keiran.
"Oh wow," I whispered, moving closer. It was a time capsule.
I reached out and picked up a silver-framed picture from a side table. In it, a tiny Keifer was clinging to Tita Serina's leg, hiding half his face behind her skirt while she laughed at the camera. I traced the glass over his face. He was so incredibly cute—his cheeks were chubby, his eyes were wide and curious, and his hair was a wild mess of dark waves
He looked so innocent, so soft. It was a total contrast to the hardened Keifer he was today—the man with the scarred knuckles and the cold, calculative gaze. Seeing him like this made my heart ache in the best way possible.
"You're going to look just like him, aren't you?" I murmured to the bump, smiling as I imagined a mini-Keifer with those same round cheeks running through these halls.
I kept exploring, finding a photo of a teenage Keigan holding a baby Keiran, their bond obvious even back then. But my eyes kept drifting back to the photos of Tita Serina. She looked so radiant, her smile mirrored perfectly in the ways her sons looked at her.
I stood there for another moment, tracing the lines of Tita Serina's smile. It was strange; the room felt so alive, so full of history, that I almost didn't feel the chill in the air until the lights flickered.
Then, out of nowhere, the mansion plunged into total darkness.
"What happened?" I whispered, my heart rate picking up. The silence that followed was heavy and unnerving.
I carefully turned away from the photos, my hand immediately dropping to my bump as if I could shield the baby from the dark. Using the light from my phone, I slowly navigated out of the room.
I made my way down the grand staircase, one hand deathly tight on the mahogany railing, the other supporting the weight of my six-month-old cargo. My breath felt short. Every shadow looked like a threat.
When I finally reached the foyer, I pushed the heavy front doors open and stepped onto the porch. The emergency floodlights outside hadn't kicked in yet, which was even more alarming.
"What happened?" I called out, my voice sounding small in the vast driveway.
Several guards jogged toward me, their tactical flashlights cutting through the gloom. They looked tense, their eyes scanning the treeline of the estate.
"Ma'am, we don't know," one of them said, his hand hovering over his holster. "The main grid is down, and the backups aren't engaging. It might be a local power shutdown, but we aren't taking chances."
He tapped his earpiece, but his face fell. "Comms are fuzzy. Static everywhere."
A cold shiver raced down my spine that had absolutely nothing to do with the evening breeze. Comms interference and a total blackout at the same time? In our world, that was rarely a coincidence. It felt far too much like a setup.
"Is there something wrong? Something dangerous?" I pressed, trying to read the guard's expression in the dark.
"No, ma'am, just a standard power failure. We're already working on restoring the grid. Please, go back inside where it's secure," he replied, his tone polite but firm.
I nodded, though I wasn't entirely convinced, and retreated into the cavernous, dark house. The silence was heavy, broken only by the sound of my own footsteps. Despite the nerves, my stomach gave a familiar, demanding growl.
I started making my way toward the kitchen, guided by the glow of my phone. "You've already inherited my eating habits, haven't you?" I whispered, a small chuckle escaping me as I rubbed my bump. "Making me hungry every ten minutes... you're definitely going to be a handful."
The kitchen felt different in the dark. The stainless steel appliances caught the faint light from my phone, creating long, distorted shadows that seemed to stretch across the floor like reaching fingers. I reached the pantry and grabbed a bag of chips, my fingers trembling slightly as I fumbled with the crinkly plastic.
Just as I was about to open them, the overhead lights flickered once, twice, and then hummed back to life, flooding the room with a brilliant, comforting glow.
"Thank God," I breathed, closing my eyes for a second as my heart rate began to settle. "Just a glitch. Just a stupid power cut."
But the relief didn't last long. From deep within the mansion, a low, rumbling sound echoed. It was coming from the direction of the home theater.
"What the hell?" I whispered, the bag of chips forgotten on the counter. My skin crawled. "Is our house haunted or something?"
I knew I should stay in the kitchen or call the guards, but the curiosity—mixed with the need to make sure everything was actually okay—drove me forward. I walked down the long, carpeted hallway, my hand resting protectively on my bump, my other hand gripping the wall for support.
I reached the theater room and pushed the heavy, soundproof double doors open.
"AHHHHH!" I yelled, stumbling back as a massive, blood-splattered face appeared on the 150-inch screen, accompanied by a deafening, high-pitched shriek from the surround sound.
I stood there, gasping for air, clutching my chest. My heart was thumping so hard I thought the baby could feel it. After a few agonizing seconds, I realized what it was.
"It's just a horror movie, Jay-Jay. Nothing else," I scolded myself, my voice shaky. "One of the guys probably left it on pause, and the power surge must have triggered the play button."
I marched over to the control panel on the wall, determined to shut it off. I hit the 'Power Off' button, and the screen went black. Silence returned to the room.
I turned to leave, but as soon as my foot touched the hallway carpet, the screen roared back to life. It wasn't the movie anymore. It started flipping through different channels—static, old cartoons, news—until it landed on a live feed.
The silence was shattered again as the screen roared back to life It lunged straight into another horror scene—a dark, twisted figure crawling toward the camera with bone-chilling screeches echoing through the surround sound speakers. The bass was so heavy I could feel it vibrating in my pregnant belly.
"Stop it! Just stop!" I sobbed, fumbling blindly for the control panel again, but the buttons wouldn't respond. It was like the system had been hijacked.
I backed away from the screen, my legs feeling like jelly. The tears were streaming down my face now, blurring my vision. I felt so small and vulnerable in this massive, high-tech room. The person I needed most—the one man who could stop any nightmare—wasn't here.
"Keifer... please," I choked out, a sob racking my body. I hugged my bump tight, trying to block out the terrifying images on the screen. "Please come back."
I couldn't stay in here. I turned to run, but in my panic and with my center of gravity off due to the baby, I tripped slightly on the thick carpet. I caught myself on the edge of a seat, gasping for air.
Suddenly, the screen went black. Total silence.
In my panic, I stayed huddled on the floor, the terrifying sounds of the movie still blaring from the speakers. I couldn't even stand up; my legs felt like lead and my heart was racing so fast it hurt.
"JAY-JAY!"
Keifer's voice sliced through the cinematic screams. A second later, the theater doors were thrown open so hard they hit the stoppers with a bang. He was there—looking wild-eyed, scanning the room frantically until his eyes landed on me on the floor.
He was at my side in a heartbeat, sliding onto his knees and pulling me into his lap. He reached out and slammed his fist against the main override switch on the wall, and the theater finally went dead silent.
"Hey, hey... what happened?" he asked, his voice thick with a mixture of terror and fury. He cupped my face with his hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears that wouldn't stop falling. His hands were shaking. "Talk to me, Jay. Are you hurt? Did someone touch you?"
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