Claiming My Hidden Son / Bride Behind The Billion-Dollar Veil. Clare Connelly
that for the time being Agistros is yours to enjoy. We will revisit our circumstances again when I return in a few weeks.’
His announcement was still resonating inside me when he rose from the table and strode, his head proud, shoulders stiff, towards the door.
‘When you return? Where will you be?’
He paused, his tall, imposing body swivelling towards where I sat, frozen. ‘In Athens, where my business is, and where I intend to stay for the foreseeable future.’
Despite sensing this had been coming, I found the announcement took me by surprise. ‘You’re leaving me here on my own?’
Theos—could I sound any more alarmed?
He gave a curt, unfeeling nod. ‘It is the best decision.’
I pushed my chair back and stood, feeling a yearning spiralling inside that wouldn’t be silenced. A yearning to know that his condemnation of my father meant that he was different. That, despite tarring me with the same brush as my parent, he wouldn’t punish me too.
‘Why can’t I live in Athens too?’ With you.
It would be the perfect place finally to put my art degree to good use. To start a career.
His hardening features broadcasted his displeasure at that question even before he spoke. ‘Why force us to endure one another when we don’t have to?’
‘I’m perfectly happy living on my own. I can rent a flat, get a job in an art gallery—’
The twist of his lips reminded me again of how hot his kisses could be. ‘What’s the point of staging an elaborate wedding to fool the world if my wife immediately moves into an apartment?’
‘Then why did you do it?’ I challenged.
‘Your father timed his strike to perfection—because my company needs stability now more than ever.’
Invisible walls closed in on me. ‘So this is a business decision?’
His jaw clenched. ‘Everything that has transpired between us has been based on a business decision.’
Even last night?
My heart lurched and I was glad I was sitting down. ‘There has to be another way.’
‘There is. You stay here, in our purportedly happy home. You’ll want for nothing. Your every wish will be catered for. Buy as much art as you wish to—or even make it if you want.’
Yesterday the promise of freedom from this nightmare would have brought boundless relief. Today, all I felt was…trapped.
‘I can’t. I can’t live like that.’
The words were uttered more for myself than for him. Born from my deep desire never to fall under another’s command the way my father had forced me to live under his.
‘How long am I to stay in this gilded prison?’
His eyes darkened. ‘If this is a prison, yineka mou, it is not of my making. I tried for months to make your father listen to reason. He caused this situation, not me. If you want a way out of this, then find one.’
With that, he walked out, leaving my insides cold as ice.
Axios’s words echoed through the long days and nights that followed his departure from Agistros. Long after the days in the luxurious paradise had begun to stretch in brain-numbing monotony.
My new husband, having made his feelings clear about our forced marriage, didn’t bother to come home. The stunning villa had indeed become my prison, and its elegant walls and priceless furnishings closed in on me more with every day that dragged by.
And the more my world became narrow, the louder my mother’s words and the contents of my grandmother’s letter clamoured.
By the end of the second week dejection had me in a constricting hold. But alongside it was the discomfort in my abdomen, which wouldn’t let up. Telling myself it was a psychosomatic reaction to my current situation began to feel hollow when I knew my grandmother had felt similar symptoms in the year before her death.
Then the housekeeper informed me one sun-drenched morning that Axios had left a message to say that he would be away on business in New York for another ten days. It seemed like the ominous catalyst I needed.
In the privacy of my suite, I quickly considered and discarded the things I wouldn’t need. My large hobo bag was big enough to hold the most crucial essentials, and the small stash of cash I’d saved from my allowance was more than enough to see me through the first few days of my unknown adventure.
After that…
My heart lurched as I attempted to hold down my breakfast the next morning. I took my time, ensuring I was well-sustained before I left the table. Aware of the housekeeper’s keen eye, I calmly drank another cup of tea, then helped myself to fruit before drawing back my chair.
‘Agatha, I’m thinking of visiting friends. I’m not sure how long I’ll be. A few days—maybe longer.’
Surprise lit the housekeeper’s eyes. ‘But Kyrios Xenakis said you were to stay here—’
‘Kyrios Xenakis isn’t here. And he’s not coming back for ten days. I seriously doubt he’ll miss my absence in the meantime.’ I slapped on a smile to take the sting out of my words.
She gave a wary nod. ‘When do you wish to leave? I’ll tell Spiros to ready the boat.’
‘Don’t bother. I’ll grab a water taxi from the harbour. The walk down will do me good.’
Disapproval filmed her eyes. ‘Kyria, I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
One of the few facts I’d learned about my absent husband was that he was far wealthier than I’d imagined. The members of the Xenakis dynasty basked in the sort of wealth that required bodyguards and well-orchestrated security for them to travel. Exactly the sort of attention I didn’t need.
‘I appreciate your concern, but it’s not necessary, Agatha. Thank you.’
I walked away before she could respond. And, since I wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t alert Axios at the very first opportunity, I rushed up to my suite, grabbed my bag and hurried back down.
Two hours later I stepped up to the sales counter at the airport on the mainland. ‘One-way ticket to Switzerland, please.’
The attendant eyed me for what seemed like for ever before issuing my ticket. But if I thought that was nerve-racking, discovering what my grandmother had left for me once I arrived at the Swiss bank left me shamelessly sobbing in a cold and grey bank vault.
And then everything that had gone before paled in comparison to the fear that gripped my heart when I sat before a Swiss doctor three days later.
Dr Trudeau, a short, grey-haired physician with kind eyes, peered at me over his rimless glasses, gentle fingers tapping the file in front of him before he sighed.
‘Miss Petras, I have good news and bad news. Although I’m not entirely sure how welcome the good news will be once I explain what I believe is happening with you. I’m so sorry.’
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