LEARNING THE TRUTH

Giselle's POV

I was frozen in fear, my heart pounding against the walls of my ribcage as I gazed up at Nicholas. His freezing blue eyes held me captive, his jaw working.

"So, you're pregnant." His voice was a crack of thunder in my ears.

I curl a protective hand over my belly, cradling the tiny life inside me. My throat tightened, and I staggered backwards into my bedroom.

Nicholas followed me, his movements slow and graceful as he shut the door. The air around us was thick, oppressive.

  And then, in a dam-break flood of emotion, the tears I had held inside me for weeks brust free. I fell on the bed and wept deeply.

Nicholas was beside me in an instant. His muscular massive arms folded me, pulling me into his chest. His warmth, his immovable solidity, it was so comforting. I grasped him, fist twisting in the material of his shirt as if he was the only anchor that stopped me from drowning in my sorrow.

"Shh...," He murmured, running his fingers through my hair. "You don't have to cry, Giselle. I've got you. I promise."

I buried my face further into him, my head trembling with disgust. "I...I don't know how to do this," I was stammering between the tears."I never thought... Never dreamed... I'd have to live through this alone."

Nicholas leaned back a bit, his arms holding my tear-soaked face. "You are never alone," he said resolutely to me. "You have me. You have Dad. And no matter what, we will not leave you to deal with this on your own. I nodded steadily, my tears mixing with my streaked makeup streaming down my face.

Nicholas reached over and took a tissue from my nightstand and wiped my face with a gentle touch."Tell me the truth, Giselle," he whispered. "Did Patrick reject the baby?"

My stomach contorted in pain at the sound of his name. I said nothing, but soon my phone was in my trembling hands as I opened it. I read the text message—the message that had demolished what was left of the bits of heart I had.

I grabbed the phone and handed it to Nicholas. He glanced at the screen, his face tightening by the moment.

"I don't wish to have any child with you. Becky is the one whom I love now. And I wish to have my child with her." The room was quiet as death.

I felt Nicholas's hand tighten around my and my hold until the knuckles went white. His entire body tensed, his breathing low and anguished—to anguished.

Then, in his quiet voice enough to send shivers down my spine, he whispered, "That son of a bitch."I seized on the venom in his voice.

Nicholas set the phone down on the counter, fists at his sides. "Three years," he snarled. "He tortured you for three years. And now he has the nerve to just dump you like this?"

His voice was rising, his anger pent up. "He will pay for this, Giselle. I swear to it—he will regret ever putting a hand on you."

I touched my swollen eyes, bewildered but comforted by the anger in my brother. "Nicholas… please. I just… I just want to move on from this."

He took a bitter breath of air, his nostrils flaring. "We will," he vowed to me. "But not before I can get through to him about what he's done."

I had hardly had a chance to say anything before Nicholas's cell phone rang.

He drew it out, his face darkening as he looked at the caller ID. Groaning, he answered the phone and said, "Yes, Father?"

I just listened to the low tone of my father's voice on the phone, his voice full of its normal weight.

Nicholas nodded."We'll be coming down soon."He returned the phone to his pocket and turned to me."The betrothal family awaits."

My heart plummeted to the earth. I had nearly forgotten that they were waiting in the midst of the evening's chaos.

I sucked in a breath. "Nicholas… how do I tell Dad?"

Nicholas sighed loudly, pushing his hair back from his ears. "Not now," he murmured. "Let's just get through tonight, alright? We'll figure it out afterwards."

I bit my lip, nodding uncertainly.

Nicholas glanced at my face, then smiled faintly. "Come on," he said, drawing me over to the vanity by the hand. "Let's fix you up."

I gazed at him in shock. "What?"

 He gestured toward my reflection in the mirror. My makeup was totally ruined, my mascara smudged, my eyes puffy and red,my lips swollen from crying. 

"You can't descend staircase looking like that," he teased. It would ruin the whole Von Howard reputation." I laughed a bit, sniffling.

Nicholas smiled. "There it is," he said, taking my makeup brush out of my hands.

I reclined back, observing as he started to retouch my makeup with accuracy. His strokes were oddly exact, close to perfection.

While I did, I recalled something—a memory from our childhood of the two of us in my bedroom, amidst a mess of makeup. I was seven, Nicholas was ten. He must have been experimenting with his 'makeup skills' on me after suffering and sitting through a beauty vlog on TV.

I laughed at the memory. "You know… you were horrible at this when we were kids."

Nicholas grinned. "I think I recall you practicing on me." I pretended to be indignant. "Lies! You're the one who said you had to practice on my face."

He shrugged. "And look how professional I am now."

 I was laughing, a genuine laugh, a senseless laugh, one hadn't laughed for the past three years.

 Nicholas stepped back from the mirror, done with the final smudge of lipstick. "There," he said, with satisfaction. "Good as new." I gazed at my own face in the mirror and wondered at how intact I was now out of the vortex of emotion I'd been a split second before. 

The warmth escaped my nostril as I gazed again at Nicholas."you're the best big brother in the whole world, you know that right?"

He smiled. "Sure I do. What will you do without me." I shook my head and laughed. "Thanks," I breathed.

He held my hand tighter. "Always."I got up and took a breath. Nicholas held out his arm, and I took it.

I walked toward the door with a strength in me that I never knew I had.

Tonight, I was not Giselle, the woman Patrick had left behind. I was Giselle Von Howard—a woman reborn, standing tall, beside her brother. And I was ready.