Ivana's POV
I woke up with a pounding headache and a dull ache behind my eyes. My face felt puffy and warm, and when I glanced at the mirror beside the vanity, I let out a groan. My eyes were swollen—red and tired from too much crying, too much emotion, too much… everything.
Before I could even rub the sleep from my eyes, Darius's voice sliced through the air like a blade.
"I thought they said you were a fierce queen. All I see is a lazy rat here."
I blinked slowly, turning my head just slightly to glare at him. There he was again, standing tall like he owned the world. As if I hadn't cried myself to sleep because of him. As if he hadn't used his so-called authority to take whatever he wanted from me without care. The arrogance rolled off him in waves.
"I'm tired," I muttered, my voice hoarse.
He didn't yell, didn't scoff like I expected. Instead, his expression stayed unreadable.
"I heard what happened yesterday," he said calmly.
"What happened?" I asked, unsure of what he was referring to.
He didn't hesitate. "The vomit."
My face flinched before I could hide it. "What about it?"
"You should go get yourself checked," he said bluntly. "I don't want any infected pest in my mansion."
And with that, he turned on his heels and walked out.
The nerve.
I sat there for a second, staring at the door he left through. My fingers clenched tightly against the sheets. Pest? That bastard. He had no right to treat me like this. I was a princess before I even stepped foot into this cursed palace. Before this miserable contract of a marriage. Before Darius decided I was nothing more than property with a piano.
Fuck Darius.
He walked in again a few minutes later, shirt already off. The audacity.
I hated how my eyes trailed across his chest. I hated how attractive he was despite being the worst man I'd ever met. My stomach tightened—whether in disgust or from the dizziness still clinging to me, I didn't know.
I grabbed my bag without another word and walked right out of that room. I didn't care if he followed or not. I wasn't staying in there another second.
By the time I got to the hospital, my throat was sore, and the nausea had returned in full force. The nurse at the reception desk looked up and gave me a kind smile. I hadn't seen a kind face in a while.
"Good morning. How can we help you?" she asked.
"I'd like to see a doctor," I said, my voice almost a whisper. "I've been vomiting for the past day. I… I don't know what's wrong with me."
"Alright, please fill out this form and have a seat. A doctor will see you shortly."
I nodded and filled out the basic information—name, age, symptoms, any allergies. I kept it brief but honest. After I handed it back, I sank into one of the waiting chairs, my hands folded tightly in my lap. I could feel eyes on me, probably recognizing me as the prince's wife, but I didn't care.
A nurse called my name about twenty minutes later, and I followed her through the hallways. The place smelled clean—like disinfectant and something vaguely lemony.
The doctor, a calm middle-aged woman, gestured for me to sit. "What's going on, Your Highness?"
I flinched at the title. "I've been vomiting. I feel dizzy. My appetite is gone. I just want to know if I'm okay."
She nodded and began checking my vitals. Temperature, blood pressure, a few questions about when it started and how often. She was gentle, not like Darius. Not like anyone in that palace.
"Let's run some basic tests," she said after. "We'll take some blood and ask a few more questions."
I agreed, even though a pit was growing in my stomach. Something didn't feel right. And deep down, I already knew…
Something was about to change.
The nurse led me to another room—a little quieter, more sterile. I sat on the narrow hospital bed while they took my blood, asking me to wait while the results were processed. I barely noticed the needle prick. My mind had floated far away, to a place where none of this mess existed. A place where I wasn't stuck in a marriage I didn't choose, or being insulted in my own bedroom.
I sighed and laid back against the pillow, shutting my eyes for just a moment.
Time dragged.
After what felt like forever, the door creaked open again, and the doctor stepped in with a soft but unreadable expression. She held a clipboard, her eyes scanning the top of the page before she looked at me.
"Your Highness," she began carefully, walking closer. "We've run the basic tests like we discussed. Your blood pressure is slightly low, which could explain the dizziness. But, um… there's something else."
I sat up slowly. "What is it?"
She hesitated, then gave me a small nod. "You're pregnant."
Silence.
My heartbeat was all I could hear. Loud and pounding in my ears.
"I'm… what?"
"Pregnant. Early stages, maybe a few weeks in. It would explain the nausea, fatigue, and vomiting. Your body's responding to the hormonal changes."
I blinked at her.
Pregnant?
Pregnant.
"No…" I whispered. My lips barely moved. "There must be a mistake…"
"There isn't," she said gently. "We can do another test to confirm, but the blood results are clear."
Pregnant.
The room suddenly felt smaller—tighter—like it was closing in around me.
My hands dropped into my lap, trembling. I stared at the floor, but I couldn't even see it. The world was suddenly spinning again, but not from dizziness.
It was from panic.
From confusion.
From fear.
Pregnant… with Darius's child?
No.
This can't be happening.
I didn't even hear the doctor leave the room. I just sat there, frozen, stuck in my thoughts, unable to process the one truth that had shattered every last pie
ce of my plans:
I was carrying the child of the man I couldn't stand.