Chapter 22: Chapter 21 No Way Out
"I’m sorry, Mr. Monroe. The pregnancy failed again."
Helix froze in the middle of the hallway. He didn’t look at the doctor. "What do you mean it failed?"
"Your wife had a miscarriage early this morning. We did everything we could, but we couldn’t stop it."
Six times.
Five years of marriage, and this was the sixth time. Helix dragged his palm over his face, a deep, bitter exhaustion settling into his chest. He didn’t just want a child; he needed an heir before Laziel took over the entire family succession line. He refused to let his older brother win.
But town was already talking. His friends, his rivals—everyone was whispering behind his back, calling him impotent. A man with billions but no bloodline to leave it to.
Helix turned the handle and walked into the hospital room.
Chloé was sitting up in bed, her darkish red hair messy and clinging to her damp face. She was beautiful, but right now her eyes were bloodshot and swollen from crying.
Helix didn’t hug her. He didn’t comfort her. He stood near the bed, his voice completely flat. "You can’t even give me a child."
Chloé looked up, her face twisting with sudden rage. "What did you just say?"
"Five years, Chloé. Six times," Helix said, his jaw tight. "You can’t even get past the first few months."
"This is your fault, Helix! It’s all your fault!" she yelled, throwing the blanket off her legs.
"How is it my fault? I get you pregnant every single time. Your body is the one that keeps losing them."
"Oh, really?" Chloé let out an ugly laugh. "What about all those other women you sleep with? You think I don’t know you screw anything that breathes? Maybe your sperm count has dropped from pouring it into random nobodies! Maybe that’s why you can’t give me a baby that lasts! You’re the problem!"
Helix stared at her, stunned. He knew he was perfectly fine. He was a Monroe.
But as Chloé turned away to cry into her pillows, Helix walked over to the window and looked outside.
Her words stuck in his head. Maybe you’re the problem.
He had stepped outside his marriage plenty of times with models and socialites, and none of them had ever ended up pregnant either. He had always assumed they were just taking care of it.
But what if they hadn’t?
The doctor came in and cleared his throat. "I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Monroe."
Helix didn’t answer the doctor. He didn’t look back at Chloé. He simply turned on his heel, pushed the door open, and walked out.
At his penthouse
He poured three fingers of whiskey into a glass.
He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse, staring out at the sprawling city lights below. The alcohol burned its way down his throat, but it did nothing to wash away the memory of Chloé’s voice echoing in his ears.
Maybe your sperm count has dropped... Maybe you’re the problem.
Helix set the glass down. "No," he muttered to the empty room.
It was ridiculous. He was a Monroe. Monroes didn’t have flaws, and they certainly didn’t have problems producing heirs. He was perfectly fine.
But as the silence stretched, his mind began to drift. He started calculating.
He thought back to the actress he spent three months with in Paris. Then the model he frequented in Milan. The influencer he stayed with on his yacht in Monaco. He had never been careful. He had never liked using protection, and he had never asked them if they were on the pill.
Yet, not a single one of them had ever come back to blackmail him. None of them had ever shown up at his office with a positive test or a lawyer demanding child support. At the time, he thought he was just lucky. He thought his money and his name made them handle things quietly.
But now?
None of them getting pregnant wasn’t just lucky. It was odd.
His thoughts were interrupted when his assistant stepped in, holding a tablet to her chest.
"Sir, your father called twice while you were out," she said. "He wants an update on the... situation."
"Ignore him."
"Sir?"
"I said ignore it," Helix repeated coldly. "Instead, I need you to book me an appointment."
The assistant blinked, quickly pulling up her calendar. "Of course, Mr. Monroe. With who? Is it the logistics merger or the Board of Directors?"
A pause.
"The best fertility specialist in Europe."
...
The Maybach pulled up right in front of the main entrance of Monroe Holdings.
The moment the driver stepped out and walked around to open the rear door, people on the pavement started slowing down. By the time I stepped out onto the pavement, the entire lobby glass might as well have been a theater screen.
Everyone was staring.
I could hear the hushed whispering before I even crossed the sliding doors.
"Isn’t that Mr. Monroe’s personal car?"
"Wait... is that Miss Brenner?"
"She rode with him?"
"No, he’s not even in there. She came in his car alone."
The receptionist literally stopped typing mid-word, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as her eyes followed me. Two senior executives stopped dead in the middle of the lobby, interrupting their own conversation to exchange a panicked look. Security guards shifted on their feet, completely unsure of how to react.
They weren’t jealous. They were terrified.
Laziel Monroe was a man who kept his professional life behind an iron wall. He didn’t do favors. He didn’t share his personal space. He certainly didn’t lend his personal vehicle to his staff. Coming to work in his car was the equivalent of announcing a glitch in the matrix.
I didn’t care about any of it. I ignored the stares, walked right past them, and headed straight to the elevator. All I could think about was getting my daughter back.
I didn’t bother knocking. I threw the doors to the executive suite open, ready to tear Laziel apart with my bare hands.
"Laziel, if you think you can just—"
The words died in my throat.
My daughter was sitting right in the middle of the office carpet, completely surrounded by coloring pencils. Standing over her were two massive, six-foot-tall bodyguards who looked like they regularly broke bones for a living.
Right now, they looked completely defeated.
"No!" Anastelle barked, pointing a green crayon at the largest guard. "Dinosaurs do not eat broccoli! They eat meat! Say it!"
The guard swallowed hard, looking genuinely stressed. "They... they eat meat, miss."
The other guard was standing awkwardly to the side, his massive, tattooed hand tightly clutching a fluffy pink stuffed rabbit.
"Mommy!"
Anastelle dropped her crayon, scrambled off the floor, and ran full speed into my legs. I instantly dropped to my knees, wrapping my arms around her and burying my face in her hair. The relief was so heavy it made my chest ache, but the moment I realized she was completely fine, the terror turned right back into fury.
I stood up, adjusting my shirt, and marched straight toward the desk at the back of the room.
"Have you completely lost your mind?" I demanded.
Laziel didn’t even look up from the documents he was signing. "No."
"You kidnapped my daughter from her school!"
"Your daughter appears to have excellent negotiation skills," he said smoothly, capping his pen. "She has already convinced my security detail to rewrite prehistoric history."
What??
"You ruined my life," I said.
Laziel finally stopped working. He leaned back in his chair, completely relaxed. "Incorrect. I removed every alternative."
The coldness of his voice made my blood run hot. I slammed my palm on the desk. "You blacklisted my name from every job in this city. You bought my entire apartment building just to evict me, and you fired Giulia from her job. You made us homeless!"
I waited for a denial. I waited for him to make up some excuses.
Instead, he just looked at me. "Yes."
No apology. No guilt. Not even a flicker of regret in his eyes.
"Why?" I choked out. "Why would you do that to us?"
"Because you keep trying to run," Laziel said, his voice dropping. "Now you’ll stop wasting time trying to leave."
Before I could even process the madness of his words, Laziel reached out and pressed the button on his desk intercom.
"Prepare the east wing," he ordered.
I frowned, stepping back. "What? What east wing?"
Without looking up from his next file, he replied, "Your room."
My jaw dropped. "I never agreed to move into your house, Laziel. We are not living with you."
He finally raised those icy eyes, locking his gaze directly onto mine. There was a dangerous, mocking tilt to his lips.
"Miss Brenner," he said softly, signaling the end of the conversation. "You arrived. That’s agreement enough."
