Twenty-Five Years Ago.
The suite at the St. Regis smelled of white lilies and expensive champagne. It was the kind of room designed for royalty—gold leaf on the ceilings, velvet drapes that pooled on the floor, and a bed that looked large enough to get lost in.
Evelyn Moore—now Evelyn Sterling—stood by the balcony doors, looking out at the city lights. She was still in her wedding dress, the heavy silk skirt rustling with every breath she took. Her feet ached, her cheeks hurt from smiling for six hours straight, but she felt like she was floating.
The door clicked locked behind her.
"Mrs. Sterling," a voice murmured, low and warm.
Evelyn turned. William was loosening his tie, his tuxedo jacket already discarded on a chair. He looked devastating. His hair was slightly mussed from the wind during their exit, and his blue eyes were dark.
"Mr. Sterling," Evelyn smiled, feeling a blush heat her neck.
William crossed the room in three strides. He didn't stop until he was crowded into her space, his hands coming up to cup her face.
"You were perfect today," he whispered. "The way you handled the Governor? My father was impressed. And my father is never impressed."
"I just listened to him talk about golf," Evelyn laughed softly. "It wasn't hard."
"It's a skill," William corrected. He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers. "You're a natural, Evie. We're going to be unstoppable."
He kissed her then, slow and deep. It wasn't the chaste kiss from the altar. It was hungry. His hands moved to the buttons on the back of her dress.
"Turn around," he breathed against her neck.
Evelyn obeyed. She felt his fingers—nimble, warm—working the tiny pearl buttons. One by one, the pressure of the dress released, the heavy silk sliding down her shoulders, pooling at her waist.
"Beautiful," William groaned. His hands spanned her bare waist, his thumbs tracing the line of her spine. "I've been wanting to do this since you walked down the aisle."
He pushed the dress down. Evelyn stepped out of it, leaving the puddle of white silk on the floor. She stood before him in her lace corset, feeling exposed and worshipped all at once.
William picked her up. He carried her to the bed, laying her down against the crisp white sheets. He hovered over her, bracing his weight on his arms, looking down at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.
"I promise you," William said, his voice thick with emotion. "I will give you the world, Evelyn. You'll never want for anything. We're going to build a legacy that lasts a hundred years."
"I don't need the world," Evelyn whispered, reaching up to touch his face. "Just you. And... maybe a family to share it with."
William smiled. It was a genuine, dazzling smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
"A family," he agreed. He kissed her collarbone. "A house full of them. Three boys. Two girls. Running the halls."
"That sounds chaotic," Evelyn teased.
William kissed her again, silencing her.
That night, There was only passion—feverish and consuming. William loved her with his hands, his mouth, his words. He made her feel like a queen ascending her throne.
Eight Months Later.
The brownstone in Georgetown was chaos. Boxes were everywhere. They were moving in, setting up their first real home.
Evelyn was in the kitchen, unpacking dishes. She was humming, her hair tied up in a messy scarf.
"Honey!" William called from the living room. "Where did you put the polls?"
"In the box marked 'Boring Stuff'!" Evelyn shouted back.
William appeared in the doorway, holding a file folder and looking mock-offended. "This 'boring stuff' is the key to the district primary, Mrs. Sterling."
"It's Saturday, William. Put the polls down and come help me with the china."
William dropped the file on the counter. He walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. He rested his chin on her shoulder.
"I have a better idea," he murmured. "Let's leave the china. Let's go upstairs."
Evelyn laughed, leaning back into him. "It's 2 PM. And the movers are coming back in an hour with the piano."
"An hour is plenty of time," William nipped at her ear. "We need to practice."
"Practice for what?"
William spun her around. His eyes were bright. "My father asked today. He wants to know when we're expecting."
Evelyn felt a small flutter of nerves. "We've only been trying for two months, William. It takes time."
"I know," William kissed her nose. "But Sterlings are efficient. I bet we knock it out of the park on the first try. A son. By Christmas."
He picked her up, setting her on the counter next to the stack of plates.
"William!" Evelyn squealed. "The movers!"
"Let them wait," William grinned. He looked happy. Unburdened. "Let's make a baby, Evie."
***
Six Months Later.
The bathroom was quiet.
Evelyn sat on the edge of the tub. The tile was cold.
She held the test in her hand. Negative.
It was the fourth one.
The door opened. William walked in. He was wearing his suit, ready for a dinner with the party whip. He looked sharp, polished, and impatient.
"Well?" he asked. He was adjusting his cufflinks in the mirror, looking at her reflection rather than her face.
"Not this time," Evelyn said quietly. She dropped the stick in the trash.
William stopped fiddling with his cuffs. He frowned.
"Are you sure?"
"The stick doesn't lie, William. It's negative."
He turned around. The playful grin from six months ago was gone. In its place was a slight crease between his brows.
"Are you tracking the dates?" he asked. "My mother said timing is crucial. Maybe you're miscalculating."
"I have an app, William. I have a chart. I know when I'm ovulating."
"Then why isn't it working?" He sounded genuinely baffled. As if biology was an employee who wasn't following instructions.
"It just... happens. Sometimes it takes a year," Evelyn said, standing up. She tried to hug him, needing reassurance.
William accepted the hug, but his arms were stiff. He patted her back twice.
"We don't have a year," he said into her hair. "The primaries are in eighteen months. A pregnancy announcement would secure the family vote."
He pulled back. He looked at her stomach, then at her face.
"Are you stressed?" he asked. "Stress releases cortisol. It kills the... process."
"I'm fine, William," Evelyn said, feeling a prick of irritation. "I'm just not pregnant yet."
"Right." He checked his watch. "Well. Try to relax. Drink some tea. I have to go. The Whip hates waiting."
He kissed her cheek. It was quick. Dry.
"Next month," he said firmly. "We'll get it next month."
He walked out.
Evelyn stood alone in the bathroom. She looked at the empty space where his warmth used to be.
She looked at the trash can.
She realized then that the world he promised came with conditions.