Chapter Text
The television had been on for hours, muted, the same headline looping again and again.
QUEEN’S GAMBIT LOST AT SEA.
Laurel Lance stood in her bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror like the answer might appear if she waited long enough. Her eyes were red, her face pale. She looked older than she had a week ago—older than she should.
Oliver was gone.
Sara was gone.
And somehow, that wasn’t even the worst part.
Her stomach turned sharply, a sudden wave of nausea forcing her to grip the edge of the sink. She closed her eyes and breathed through it, telling herself it was stress. Grief. Shock. Anyone would feel sick after losing the man they loved and learning he had betrayed them with their sister.
Anyone would feel like this.
But the feeling didn’t pass.
It lingered—low, insistent, wrong.
Laurel swallowed and opened the cabinet beneath the sink. Her hands moved before she fully realized what she was doing, fingers brushing past bottles and bandages until they closed around a small white box.
She stared at it.
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “That’s not—”
She didn’t finish the sentence.
The minutes that followed felt unreal. Too quiet. Too loud. Like the world was holding its breath.
When the result appeared, clear and unmistakable, Laurel sank down onto the cold tile floor.
Pregnant.
The word echoed in her head, heavy and impossible.
Oliver was dead. Presumed dead. The city had already started turning him into a cautionary tale, a scandal, a headline. And now—now she was carrying something he would never know existed.
Anger flared briefly. Hot. Sharp.
Then grief followed, crushing and deep.
She pressed the test to her chest, her breathing uneven. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Not like this. Not after betrayal, not after loss, not after the world had already taken so much from her.
“This isn’t fair,” she whispered, tears spilling freely now.
But fairness had never stopped tragedy before.
Slowly, something steadier settled beneath the storm of emotion. Not forgiveness. Not acceptance.
Resolve.
“This isn’t about him,” Laurel said quietly, her voice trembling but firm. “It’s about me.”
And the life growing inside her.
Outside, Starling City went on as if nothing had changed. Sirens wailed in the distance. Cars passed. The ocean continued to keep its secrets.
Laurel wiped her face and pushed herself to her feet. She didn’t know how she would do this. She didn’t know what the future would look like.
But she knew one thing with certainty.
She would not let betrayal define this child’s beginning.
Somewhere deep within her, something shifted—subtle, unseen. Not a vision. Not a prophecy.
Just the quiet sense that this life mattered more than anyone yet understood.
Laurel squared her shoulders and turned off the television.
Whatever came next, she would face it.
She was a Lance.
And she was not alone.