Catching Mr. Wilson

Aria’s POV

“Well, you’re pregnant!”!” The doctor turned the ultrasound screen toward me, pointing to a tiny, almost imperceptible form.

My world stopped. I reached down, my fingers brushing the barely noticeable swell of my abdomen. A wave of warmth and excitement surged through me.

I couldn't wait to tell Liam the exciting news. My heart was racing.

Sliding into my car, I clung to a sliver of hope. Maybe, despite everything, Liam had changed. Maybe, like me, he’d begun to wish for something…more. The thought alone made my heart race, though doubt lingered at the edges of my thoughts.

As if to taunt me, I glanced at the big screen hovering just over the intersection where I’d stopped. Right at that moment, the headlines of Liam’s newest success flashed in neon lights above me. He’d just taken home the F1 championship—again.

As Liam’s image flashed on the screen, he exuded a magnetic charisma that was impossible to ignore, with chiseled features that looked like they belonged on the set of a movie. His intense, stormy eyes held a depth that drew you in, while his confident demeanor made him stand out in any crowd. Even through the screen, his presence was commanding, effortlessly capturing attention.

I wished I could be proud. I knew how many women across the nation—across the world, really—wanted him, how many of them would give anything to be in my position. His popularity was unmatched, both in and outside the F1 world.

“So, any lucky ladies waiting in the crowd tonight?” the reporter asked him. Liam looked at the screen sharply.

“Maybe.” He answered vaguely.

I tried to ignore the twinge in my heart. We’d agreed to keep our marriage a secret from the public long ago, but I was excited to change that.

Pulling into our driveway, I checked for any lurking press. Liam always demanded discretion, and I had learned to live in the shadows, hiding our marriage from the world.

Inside, the house was eerily still, the silence colder than usual. I opened the bedroom door, and the scent of Liam’s body wash greeted me—fresh from the shower.

He emerged from the bathroom, a towel slung low around his hips, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. The sight of him made my mouth water, and I felt a flush rise to my cheeks.

His eyes met mine, and I saw that familiar hunger in his gaze, the same hunger that had once made me weak at the knees.

But I couldn’t give in. Not this time.

As he closed the distance between us, his hand reaching to cup my jaw, I knew what he wanted. His lips met mine in a demanding kiss, the taste of him fresh and powerful. For a moment, I let myself sink into it—into him. His teeth grazed my bottom lip, his hands gripping my sides with a possessiveness that both thrilled and terrified me.

But I had to stop. I couldn’t let him distract me from what I needed to say.

"Liam..." I pushed him away, my voice steady as I met his gaze. "I think it's time we make our marriage public," I said, confident that he would agree, especially now that I was pregnant.

He pulled away, reaching for his clothes. His gaze turned cold, his expression hardening.

"Liam, we need to make our marriage public," I repeated, less a plea and more a statement of fact. He continued dressing, not even sparing me a glance. The silence between us was heavy, but I still believed he would come around.

"What if I was pregnant?" I asked, expecting this to be the turning point. "I want a family."

His response was like ice, cutting through my confidence. "You knew the terms when we married: no public announcement, no children."

It hurt, the pain sharp and unforgiving.

“But, Liam—” I started, but was abruptly cut off by the sharp ring of his phone. I glanced at the name on his screen– Sophia, the woman who had haunted me throughout our whole marriage.

She was the younger sister of Liam’s former teammate– and incidentally, his ex. Things had changed between the two of them when Sophia’s older brother had subbed in for him during a race and died in a freak accident on the track.

Still, Liam answered it immediately, his face softening as he spoke.

“Sophia, calm down. It’ll be okay. I’ll be there soon, okay? I’m leaving now.” His voice was soothing, gentle—so different from the tone he used with me.

“Liam, you can’t just leave—we need to talk!” I tried to interject, but my voice was small, desperate. “Please, please don’t leave right now.”

He ignored me. He was going to Sophia.

I used to believe that Liam kept our marriage hidden out of concern for us—that he was protecting our relationship from the scrutiny and judgment that comes with being in the public eye.

I thought he was worried about how the world’s opinions might impact his career, that he was shielding us from unnecessary complications.

But now, standing there facing his cold indifference, I realized how naive I was. He never intended to make this public, never planned on giving us a real chance.

I felt cheated, like a fool for believing in his excuses, for thinking he was safeguarding our future when he was really just protecting his own selfish interests.

“Don’t I deserve to bear your child?” The words burst out of me, desperate and raw, before I could stop them. “Or are you waiting for Sophia to decide you’re worth her time again?”

Liam stopped at the doorway, his phone momentarily at his side. He didn’t even look at me when he spoke, his voice cold and dismissive.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Aria.”

The sound of the door shutting behind him felt like the end. I collapsed to the floor, clutching at my blouse as heavy tears pattered against the hardwood.

Was I just a pawn to him? A way to get back at her after they broke up?

Aching, I pulled myself from the floor and climbed into bed. My body hurt, my heart throbbing like a wound in my chest. I curled tight around myself, pretending the smell of Liam lingering in the sheets didn’t stir something in me. The scent that once comforted me now only reminded me of what I would never have.

---

When I woke up that night, a sharp pain in my side made me cry out, clutching at my abdomen. I reached for the other side of the bed, but it was cold.

Liam hadn’t come home.

Panic surged as I fumbled for my phone, dialing his number repeatedly, but each call went unanswered. My final voicemail was a desperate plea, "Liam, something’s wrong. Please come home."

I tried to steady my breathing, my vision blurring with tears. Just as I slumped back, the phone buzzed in my hand—it was Isabella.

"Ari? Are you okay?" she asked, her voice cutting through the haze of pain.

"Help me..." I whispered, just before everything faded to darkness.

I could barely hold onto the phone as my world spun out of control, the only anchor in the storm of pain and fear slipping through my fingers.