Dorian's POV
"What?" I gasped, my stomach churning with dread.
"Oh you heard me!" Isabella wailed, launching into a full-minute tirade in Spanish.
I closed my eyes against the anguish in her voice, guilt washing over me. Woody was pregnant. That... only made everything worse.
"You destroyed her life! You destroyed my life, Dorian Griffin! And I hope you never find peace!" Isabella hissed before hanging up.
Oliver cocked his head. "Are you okay?"
"Yes," I lied, forcing a grin while sweat beaded on my brow.
"Okay!" Oliver chirped. "Let me tell..."
I tuned him out, my mind reeling. Woody had died carrying a child.
Whose child was it?
My chest tightened at the thought. It couldn't be mine — I'd always been careful. Or had I?
"Fuck," I muttered.
"Bad word, bad word, we don't use bad words," Oliver chanted, bouncing in his seat.
"Sorry," I laughed weakly.
Poor Woody. I couldn't escape blaming myself — because of me she was dead... along with a child.
