This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Wriothesley kept telling himself that, over and over, as if it would somehow change the situation. He’d been so careful, so meticulous when it came to you. Yet here you were—pregnant. It wasn’t fear of fatherhood that gnawed at him, though that was part of it. What truly worried him was his job.

The Fortress of Meropide was no place for a pregnant woman, let alone a child. The endless clanging of metal floors, the dipping seawater leaking through pipes, and the constant hum of machinery made the underwater prison anything but hospitable. It wasn’t exactly a dream environment to raise a family.

He found himself pacing his office, raking a hand through his hair as his mind churned. Sending you to the surface of Fontaine seemed logical—safer, cleaner, quieter. But the thought of you being there without him, enduring the challenges of pregnancy and raising their child alone, tore at him.

And what kind of man—what kind of father—would he be if he abandoned you to face this alone?

But leaving the prison unattended wasn’t an option, either. He was the warden. The Fortress needed him as much as he needed to be there for you.

Wriothesley sat down, leaning forward with his head in his hands. He had always thrived on finding solutions, but this time, there didn’t seem to be one that didn’t leave something or someone neglected.