—Sophia’s POV The steady hum of the coffee machine in the corner did absolutely nothing to calm the rising chaos in my chest. It had been days. Days since I last saw him, Ethan. Since I sat across from him in that cold, soul-sucking office while he tried to twist everything — bend me, break me — using his money like a leash I never asked for. I’ll take care of the baby, but only if you sign this contract.” His voice... God, his voice. Calm. Cold. Like none of this meant a damn thing to him. Like I was just some disposable piece in a game he’d already decided he’d win. I was pregnant. With his child. And I didn’t even know if I wanted to raise this baby with his name looming over it. His presence was a shadow I couldn’t outrun, and the more I tried, the more it clung. I used to be so sure of things — now, I didn’t even know who I was. Everything felt foggy. Distant. Like I was watching my life on a movie series, and no matter how loud I thought I screamed, no one could hear me,
—Ethan’s POV I didn’t even glance at the time. Meetings blurred. Papers signed themselves. Voices droned like insects in a vacuum. I was physically there—but mentally? Somewhere else entirely. Somewhere I couldn’t name, but her face kept dragging me back. Sophia. It wasn’t guilt. Guilt is what people feel when they have a conscience. I had walls where that used to be. But even stone... remembers. I had some of my men out there keeping an eye on her. Why wouldn't I? She's carrying my child. Eyes were watching her, and when a picture of her was sent to me. I could see the pain, and vulnerability in her eyes. Somehow, I didn't like the fact that she was still working at that cafe, but would she ever listen to me? I didn’t blame her though. I couldn't stop staring at her picture, zooming in and out like I could find answers in her eyes. Those eyes —She didn't look like everything was alright with her. Gosh, It feels like I'm losing my mind now. I had just closed my laptop when
—Sophia The sheets weren’t hospital sheets. They were softer. Smelled faintly like something expensive and clean… too clean. Not bleach. For a moment, It felt like a dream. I tried to sit up—but I lay down back immediately, and the dull ache in my head reminded me it wasn’t a dream. I had fainted. At the café. On the floor. Like I didn’t have a spine or sense or… a baby to protect. My hand moved instinctively to my belly. Still there. Still real. Still terrifying. The room was quiet. Spacious. Dim lighting. The curtains were open just enough to let the city peek through like a stranger pressing its face against glass. I wasn’t in my apartment. And I'm sure as hell I wasn’t in the hospital. My heart skipped. The door creaked. I didn’t even have the energy to flinch. Ethan walked in—no knock, no hesitation. Just all sharp edges and unreadable silence. “You’re awake.” I stared. “Where the hell am I?” “My house.” My throat burned. “I didn’t agree to this.” “You passed out.
l—Ethan I shut the door behind me a little too softly. I didn't hesitate. It was restraint. God knows I wanted to slam it. Not at her—but at the chaos I could feel crawling just beneath my skin. The same kind that always surfaced when someone touched a part of me I thought was long buried. She asked why I cared. It should’ve been a simple question. It wasn’t. I walked down the hallway. Barefoot. Loafers forgotten somewhere near the foyer, shirt rumpled from sleeping on the goddamn hospital chair for four hours straight while nurses gave me side-eyes like I was some absentee bastard playing pretend. Maybe I was. Hell, I didn’t even know what I was anymore. Except tired. Tired of hearing that edge in her voice. Tired of remembering the way she collapsed in my arms—limp, pale, breath shallow—and I’d felt something inside me rupture. Something primal. Something real. And that terrified me more than anything. Because I don’t do real. Real is where pain lives. Real is where m
—Sophia I’d never seen a kitchen like that. It wasn’t just big. It was excessive. Stark white marble counters, a black glass stove that looked like it belonged in a sci-fi movie, and more cupboards than any one person could possibly need. Every inch gleamed like it was polished just for display. And somehow… I felt like a mess. I stood barefoot, awkward, wearing one of the oversized T-shirts the housekeeper had laid out for me. The hem brushed my knees. The sleeves swallowed the whole of my hands. I felt like a kid pretending to be an adult again. A noise made me spin. Ethan. His footsteps were sharp, echoing off the tiles. Hair damp. White shirt tucked in. He always looked like a portrait, like someone carved from cool stone and expensive cologne. His gaze was barely on me as he poured water into the kettle. "You should be in bed, Sophia." “I slept all day,” I said, hugging the hem of the shirt. “I’m not made of glass.” “You’re not made of steel either.” His ton
—Ethan This wasn't where I wanted to be. Not the house. The house was perfect. More than that, it was a symbol. A reminder of everything I had to protect—my reputation, my empire, and now, the life I was forced to consider: the baby. The problem was Sophia. She wasn't supposed to be here, or in the picture. She wasn’t supposed to be in my world at all. But now, here she was, living under my roof, carrying the child I never wanted. I hated the fact that everything had to turn out like this. The fact that she made me feel like I had no control, no say in the direction my life was taking. I hated it. I sighed deeply as I stared at the paperwork in front of me. Reports from the doctor on Sophia’s health, the baby’s development. It was all there, in black and white—nothing I hadn’t already known. But seeing it, reading it again, just made the weight of the situation heavier. And yet, I just couldn't take my mind off her. Her looks, Sophia, the way she sat in my kitchen, her eyes
—Sophia The silence in the car was thick—like cold fog wrapping around my throat. I sat stiffly, my hands resting on my stomach, my fingers unconsciously curling like I could protect the baby from whatever this… moment was. Ethan didn’t speak. His jaw was tight, like he was grinding his thoughts into powder. His fingers tapped the wheel continuously, not to a rhythm, just an impatient tick that told me this wasn’t just a drive. This was a mission. “DNA?” I finally asked, voice hoarse. His eyes stayed on the road. “We’ll get it done today.” I bit my lip. The back of my throat stung, but I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t give him that. Not again. He didn’t deserve to see how this burned. How much it broke me. “How long have you been planning this?” I asked, hating how soft I sounded. He didn’t hesitate. “Since the café. Since I found out.” So… from the start. The trust I thought might’ve been building? Gone. Like it never existed. “Right,” I murmured, turning my gaze to the window.
—Sophia The air between us was strange. Heavy, but not angry. More like… quiet before a storm. I changed into jeans and a loose hoodie. Nothing fancy. I didn’t ask him where we were going. Didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I cared enough to ask. Ethan didn’t say a word the whole time. Just waited in the hallway, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Cold, like always. But there was something different in his eyes this time. I couldn’t place it. He drove. Of course he did. I just sat there, my hands resting on my lap, trying not to shake. The city passed us by—gray, moody. Like it knew what was coming. I didn’t recognize the route. We weren’t heading to his office. Or the hospital. Or anywhere familiar. It felt like we were going backwards… into something buried. When the car finally slowed, I looked up—and my chest tightened. An old building. Brick. Faded windows. Gated front. It looked… forgotten. “What is this?” I asked, voice low. He didn’t look at me. “
—SophiaI couldn’t sleep.Not with her voice still ringing in my head.“I’ve already lit the match.”Ivory.I didn’t know her. I hadn’t even seen her. But just her name… it made my skin crawl. The way Ethan froze when he heard her voice. The way he didn’t answer when I asked who it was.It told me everything I needed to know.There are women who haunt. Who leave bruises even after they’ve gone. Ivory, whoever she was, still had a part of Ethan.Or maybe... a part of him was still hers.I sat by the window, knees to my chest, watching the lights flicker across the city skyline. It was late. Too late. The whole house was quiet. Except me.And him.He hadn’t come back upstairs. It’d been hours since he walked out of the study after the call. I told myself I didn’t care, but every sound from downstairs made my heart thump faster.I hated this.This uncertainty. This fear that no matter how close we got, something would always pull us apart again.Footsteps echoed faintly.Then the door cr
—SophiaI sat on the cold marble floor, the whole scene replaying back in my head. The silence after the gunshot was thicker than the blood already seeping through Maurice’s shirt. The guards held his slumped body between them, stunned. One of them swore under his breath, the other just blinked like he wasn't surprised about the scene. Ethan stood there like he was calculating something, he lowered his gun. His expression didn’t change—not even a flinch. It was like he'd just closed a door inside himself, and whatever was on the other side was dead too.I followed him behind, because I needed an explanation—of everything.I knocked slightly on the door, and it opened.“I want the truth. All of it. No more hiding.” I said, and he nodded. "Ethan..." I whispered again, voice shaking as I tried to steady my balance from my trembling legs. "He was already restrained.""He deserved more than restraint," Ethan said, his voice like stone. "He aimed a gun at you. That wasn’t mercy. That wa
—SophiaThe sound tore through the air. A gunshot.Loud. Sharp. Like the world cracked open.Before I could scream, Ethan shoved me to the ground. Hard. His body crashed over mine. My back hit the marble—cold, unforgiving. His breath hit my cheek, ragged. Fast.“Don’t move,” he whispered. More like a warning than comfort.I couldn’t even breathe. My whole body froze.Another sound—footsteps. Fast. Heavy. Getting closer.Then—boom. Another shot.The chandelier exploded above us. Glass shattered and fell. Pieces hit the floor like tiny screams.Ethan pulled me behind the couch, his grip tight.“What the hell is going on?” I choked.He didn’t answer. Just reached into his coat.And pulled out a gun.My stomach flipped. “You’ve had that on you?”His eyes met mine. Cold. Like now wasn’t the time to ask.A voice echoed from the hall.“Julian Williams! You think you can erase me?”That voice—My whole body went numb.Maurice.It was him.Ethan’s face changed. Jaw tight. Stone-cold.“Stay her
—EthanShe didn’t say another word.Just walked back to the car like her legs were barely holding her up. She didn’t look back. Not even once.And I let her go.Not because I didn’t want to chase her.But because I knew if I touched her now—if I said too much—I’d lose whatever thread was still tying us together.This wasn’t the moment to unravel.I stayed in that old house, alone, long after the engine of the car disappeared into the distance. The silence wasn’t peaceful. It was haunted.I could still hear the slam of my uncle’s belt against the wall, the thud of my body hitting the cold floor, the sound of my own voice praying to a god that never answered.And now… now I was about to drag the only person who ever meant anything to me into the same darkness.What kind of man did that make me?I left the house as the sun started to dip behind the trees. Called my driver. I couldn’t trust the roads tonight—not with the way my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.When I got back to the penthouse
—SophiaThe ride there was dead quiet, but not the kind of quiet that felt peaceful. No music. No small talk. Just Ethan’s fingers tapping the wheel like they had a mind of their own and his jaw locked so tight it looked like pain.I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t have the strength to. My head was still spinning from everything that had just unraveled. Julian. Aria. Me. Him. The test. The phone call. The silence between all the noise.He rolled up in front of that ancient stone house, the kind that seemed to be hiding from the rest of the world just beyond the city limits. It was one of those places that time just slipped right past, leaving it looking a bit worn and forgotten.Ivy clung to the cracked walls like it had grown tired of holding on, and all the windows were shut so tight, it felt like whatever memories lived inside were better left buried.“This was the first place I ever hated,” he muttered, cutting the engine.I stared at him. “What is this place?”“My uncle’s house.”
—Sophia I didn’t sleep. Even after the truth cracked the silence wide open, I couldn’t close my eyes. I couldn’t shut my brain off, couldn’t stop the ache in my chest or the hum of disbelief that buzzed under my skin like static. Julian. His name was Julian. My Julian. And I was Aria. I hadn’t said that name in years. Not out loud. Not in a whisper. It was buried—deep, behind everything I’d built to survive. My past. My pain. My reason for being who I am. But he knew it. He said it like it still mattered. Like it never stopped meaning something. I sat by the window in Ethan’s—Julian’s—house, hugging my knees to my chest, the blanket falling off my shoulder, forgotten. The city outside was waking up. Or maybe it never really slept. Lights blinked. Horns honked. Life kept moving while mine stood still. I looked at the bracelet on my hand, as my hand brushed it slightly. The same one from twelve years ago, that held memories. The A.J. I never took off. Not even when I thought
—Sophia The air between us was strange. Heavy, but not angry. More like… quiet before a storm. I changed into jeans and a loose hoodie. Nothing fancy. I didn’t ask him where we were going. Didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I cared enough to ask. Ethan didn’t say a word the whole time. Just waited in the hallway, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Cold, like always. But there was something different in his eyes this time. I couldn’t place it. He drove. Of course he did. I just sat there, my hands resting on my lap, trying not to shake. The city passed us by—gray, moody. Like it knew what was coming. I didn’t recognize the route. We weren’t heading to his office. Or the hospital. Or anywhere familiar. It felt like we were going backwards… into something buried. When the car finally slowed, I looked up—and my chest tightened. An old building. Brick. Faded windows. Gated front. It looked… forgotten. “What is this?” I asked, voice low. He didn’t look at me. “
—Sophia The silence in the car was thick—like cold fog wrapping around my throat. I sat stiffly, my hands resting on my stomach, my fingers unconsciously curling like I could protect the baby from whatever this… moment was. Ethan didn’t speak. His jaw was tight, like he was grinding his thoughts into powder. His fingers tapped the wheel continuously, not to a rhythm, just an impatient tick that told me this wasn’t just a drive. This was a mission. “DNA?” I finally asked, voice hoarse. His eyes stayed on the road. “We’ll get it done today.” I bit my lip. The back of my throat stung, but I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t give him that. Not again. He didn’t deserve to see how this burned. How much it broke me. “How long have you been planning this?” I asked, hating how soft I sounded. He didn’t hesitate. “Since the café. Since I found out.” So… from the start. The trust I thought might’ve been building? Gone. Like it never existed. “Right,” I murmured, turning my gaze to the window.
—Ethan This wasn't where I wanted to be. Not the house. The house was perfect. More than that, it was a symbol. A reminder of everything I had to protect—my reputation, my empire, and now, the life I was forced to consider: the baby. The problem was Sophia. She wasn't supposed to be here, or in the picture. She wasn’t supposed to be in my world at all. But now, here she was, living under my roof, carrying the child I never wanted. I hated the fact that everything had to turn out like this. The fact that she made me feel like I had no control, no say in the direction my life was taking. I hated it. I sighed deeply as I stared at the paperwork in front of me. Reports from the doctor on Sophia’s health, the baby’s development. It was all there, in black and white—nothing I hadn’t already known. But seeing it, reading it again, just made the weight of the situation heavier. And yet, I just couldn't take my mind off her. Her looks, Sophia, the way she sat in my kitchen, her eyes