Chapter 242: Just Kill Me

A fresh surge of sobs racked my chest, my hands pressing over my firm bump. The lingering paranoia from months of media hunting, leak scares, and medical chaos had suddenly reared its ugly head, amplified ten times over by third-trimester hormones.

"What if someone leaks it?" I wailed softly, my voice small and wrecked. "What if the baker tells a reporter? What if someone puts it on the internet before we even get to hold them? I just want them to be ours, Reid... I don’t want the whole world in our business again."

Understanding washed over Reid’s sharp features, the confusion instantly melting into pure, fierce devotion. He turned me in his arms until I was facing him, cupping my wet cheeks in his large, warm hands and wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

"Hey. Look at me," Reid rasped, his grey eyes locked onto mine with absolute certainty. "Nobody is leaking anything. If you don’t want a party, there is no party. End of story."

"You... you told your dad yes," I hiccuped, pouting as I looked up at him through blurred vision. "He was so excited."

"I don’t care about the party, Kain. I care about you," Reid said firmly, leaning down to press a deep, lingering kiss to my forehead, then another to my trembling lips. "If a gender reveal makes you paranoid, we can throw the envelope in the fireplace and wait until the delivery room. Just you, me, and our baby. Okay?"

I let out a long, shaky breath, the tight knot of anxiety in my chest finally beginning to loosen as his grounding scent washed over my senses. I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his neck, my fingers tangling into the back of his shirt.

"Okay," I whispered, my voice thick with lingering emotion.

Reid spent the rest of the night holding me close, murmuring gentle reassurances until I finally fell asleep against his chest.

But then, the very next morning...

"Reid! Look at this one!" I bounced excitedly on the edge of the mattress, the wooden bedframe protesting under my sudden, energetic movements.

Reid slowly dragged his eyes open, blinking against the bright morning sun streaming through the windows. He looked up at me in utter, unadulterated bewilderment.

I was sitting criss-cross among the mountain of pillows—completely oblivious to the emotional meltdown I’d had just eight hours prior—holding my phone two inches from his face.

"Look!" I insisted, tapping the screen where a video was playing of a couple popping a giant black balloon filled with bright blue confetti. "Or what about the one with the smoke cannons? Do you think the baby will like the balloon pop better, or the smoke cannons? And even cake. We could do it out on the back lawn by the water! Reid, look!"

Reid stared at the glowing screen, then slowly shifted his dark grey eyes to my beaming, intensely focused face.

The man didn’t say a single word.

He simply reached up, grabbed a pillow, dragged it over his face, and buried his head underneath it with a long, muffled groan.

"Just kill me," his voice echoed flatly from beneath the cushion.

"Hey!" I shoved his shoulder through the pillow, pouting as the baby gave a sudden, hard kick against my ribs. "I’m asking you a serious question! Smoke cannons or balloon pop? Brad is coming up in twenty minutes with the doctor to have the scan once again!"

Since we told the doctor we didn’t want to know the baby’s gender, he never kept it in his mind so it wouldn’t suddenly slip. So, we were having a scan again to confirm the gender.

Reid slowly pulled the pillow down just far enough for his grey eyes to glare up at me, a mix of sheer exhaustion, disbelief, and fond exasperation written across his features.

"Kain," Reid rasped, his voice rough with sleep. "Last night, you sobbed into my shirt for an hour, called yourself paranoid, and made me promise we were throwing the envelope into the fireplace if it got to us."

"That was last night," I said smoothly, waving a hand dismissively as if that logic made complete sense. "This morning, I want smoke cannons."

Reid let out a low, heavy sigh, pulling the pillow completely off his head and running a hand over his face. A reluctant, devastatingly handsome smirk slowly tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked at my stubborn, expectant expression.

"Smoke cannons," Reid murmured, leaning up on one elbow to slide a broad hand over the firm swell of my bump. "We’re doing smoke cannons, honey. Whatever you want."

The knock on the suite door came right on cue twenty minutes later.

Brad entered first, carrying a tray of warm decaf tea and fresh pastries, followed closely by Dr. Desmond, who was rolling in a compact, portable ultrasound unit. He was the doctor put in charge of my prenatal check ups after that failed visit to the hospital.

"Good morning, you two," Dr. Desmond said warmly, setting his equipment up by the bedside table. "Brad mentioned we have a special assignment today."

Reid had already hauled himself out of bed, looking far more awake after running a hand through his blonde hair, though he kept a close, protective stance right beside my pillows.

"We’re keeping it strictly sealed," Reid told the doctor, his voice smooth and firm. "Print the scan result, put it straight into the envelope, and hand it to my father. No verbal hints, no subtle smiles."

"My lips are sealed, Mr. McCoy," Dr. Desmond chuckled, squeezing a cold dollop of gel onto my exposed bump.

I gasped slightly at the chill, but the moment the transducer touched my skin and the familiar, rhythmic thumping of our baby’s heartbeat filled the room, all the lingering morning banter faded into a quiet, awe-struck silence.

On the monitor, the crisp gray-and-white image flickered to life, showing the sharp, active outline of our child squirming in real time.

"Everything looks exceptionally healthy," Dr. Desmond noted, his eyes scanning the biometric measurements. He moved the wand deliberately, keeping the screen angled just enough so neither Reid nor I could catch a glimpse of the defining details. "Fluid levels are great, growth is right on schedule... and there’s our clear answer."

Without breaking his gaze, Dr. Desmond tapped the printer button on the unit. A small, high-resolution slip printed out with a soft whir. He picked it up face-down, slipped it directly into a cream envelope Brad handed him, and licked the seal shut on the spot.

"Here you go, Brad," Dr. Desmond said, handing over the sealed package. "The secret is officially in your hands."

Brad took the envelope like it was made of pure gold, his face beaming with absolute delight. "I’m heading straight down to hand-deliver this to the event coordinators. The smoke cannons will be ordered by noon. Plus," he added, a little mischievous look gracing his delicate lips, "my own little surprise."

"Wait, what surprise?" I asked immediately, narrowing my eyes at him.

Brad just gave a light, airy laugh, clutching the envelope to his chest as he backed out of the room. "You’ll just have to wait and see, Kain! No hints."

Before I could grill him further, Brad announced he was heading down to send out the private invitations for the weekend. The event was going to be strictly family, close friends, and inner-circle guests—no media allowed, of course.

"I’ll take care of inviting the guys from the team," Reid said, pulling his phone out of his pocket with a grin. "They wouldn’t want to miss this for anything."

Within ten minutes of Reid dropping the news into the Serpents group chat, my phone began blowing up with non-stop notifications. A heated debate erupted instantly among our teammates, with everyone weighing in as if they were the ones waiting on the ultrasound results.

Russo immediately dropped a hundred bucks into the chat betting it was a girl, claiming he had an uncanny intuition for these things. Miller countered right after, declaring he was betting his prized, custom-molded lucky skates that it was a boy, insisting the baby was definitely going to be a future center.

Half the locker room joined in, throwing out wildly competitive bets, arguing back and forth with endless voice notes and hockey stats to justify their guesses.

"Look at them," I muttered, shaking my head as I scrolled through the sheer chaos on my screen, though a broad, helpless smile broke across my face. "They’re debating like they’re the fathers."

"Let them bet," Reid chuckled, wrapping his arm securely around my shoulders and pulling me back into his chest. "It just means more free baby gear for us when they lose."

I laughed.

The day of the reveal arrived, bathed in clear skies and golden afternoon light.

The estate’s expansive back lawn by the water had been beautifully set up with low lounge seating, white floral arrangements, and full catering tables. Our families and the entire Serpents squad were gathered near the edge of the lake, chatting loudly and taking sides in the team’s ongoing bet.

Right as everyone took their places near the water, waiting for the smoke cannons to be set off, a deep, earth-shaking rumble echoed from the far end of the property.

The crowd fell completely silent as two high-performance sports cars came roaring up the wide paved path flanking the lawn, their engines revving in perfect, thunderous sync.

One was wrapped in a brilliant, customized gloss pink, and the other in a striking blue—both sporting sleek custom detailing sponsored directly by Fidora, executing Brad’s secret surprise with absolute perfection.

The entire team let out a collective roar of excitement, clapping and cheering as the two cars revved their engines once more right at the edge of the setup, the deep exhaust notes vibrating through the ground while the smoke cannons beside them stood ready to light up the sky.

"Ah, Brad really went all out," I murmured.