Chapter One: Not Over

Adrianna James

In the dimly lit room, the only sounds were our labored breaths, mingling in the charged air. Each movement was a battle, every touch a clash of wills. With one final motion, he pulled away, rolling onto his side with a satisfied grunt.

“Adrianna,” he said, his voice low but sharp. I turned, expecting a compliment, a soft word to ease the vulnerability of the moment. Instead, his words landed like a slap.

“I’m getting bored. Let’s end this.”

The air froze between us, his words slicing through the fading afterglow. A strange mix of relief and anger swirled in my chest. Relief, because at least he didn’t sugarcoat what this was—a fleeting distraction. Anger, because he didn’t even have the decency to let the moment linger.

I rose, gathering my clothes with measured grace, his gaze trailing me like a challenge. If he wanted an outburst, he wouldn’t get it from me. Maybe the next woman he does this to will take the honor.

“It’s fine,” I said, my tone steady. “This was hardly a relationship.”

Eric Thompson—playboy heir to a sprawling conglomerate. And me? Adrianna James, a reporter with nothing to my name but a rented apartment and a stack of unpaid bills. How we met wasn’t fate or destiny. It was coincidence. Pure, meaningless coincidence. I met him when a colleague introduced him to me for an exclusive interview about his recent scandal. Hungry for a story and eager to wave off the numerous blind dates set up by my mother, I chose to accept his offer for a fling. I didn’t think it would last this long, but in the end, he uprooted what was beginning to grow.

After covering what was left of my dignity with my clothes, I took one last look at Eric, his face a mask of indifference, as if our time together had never mattered. My hand hovered over the doorknob, the cool metal biting into my palm. Part of me hoped for a word, a hesitation—anything that might ease the sting of rejection. But silence wrapped around us, tight and unyielding.

I swallowed hard and pulled the door open. The hallway outside felt colder than usual, the harsh fluorescent lights doing nothing to hide the tears gathering in my eyes. I blinked them back as I stepped out, each footfall echoing the end of something that never truly began.

“This is the last time,” I whispered to no one, “that I let myself believe in something this fleeting.”

But even as I said it, I had no idea just how much this night would change everything.

---

Two Weeks Later

The cold tile of my bathroom floor sent a chill up my spine. I sat with my back against the wall, staring down at the pregnancy test lying on the floor between my feet.

Two pink lines. Clear as day.

My heart pounded in my chest, my thoughts spiraling out of control.

The muffled sound of the TV in the living room filtered through the half-closed door. A news anchor’s voice droned on about a corporate scandal—the same one that had introduced me to Eric in the first place. His name still dominated the headlines, but now, his presence loomed over my life in a way I couldn’t escape.

I wrapped my arms around my knees, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. How did I let it get this far?

Anger flared in my chest, a bitter fire that threatened to consume me. Anger at Eric. At myself. At this impossible situation.

But beneath the anger, a fragile seed of determination took root. I wasn’t going to let this break me. I needed answers. And I knew exactly where to find him.

---

The Park

The city park was alive with laughter and chatter, but it felt like a distant hum in my ears. Across the lawn, Eric stood with his arm draped around a woman who looked like she belonged in a glossy magazine. Her laugh bubbled up effortlessly, while his smile—so familiar yet so distant now—cut into me like a blade.

I wasn’t here for him. Not anymore.

I shifted my hand protectively over my stomach, the life growing inside me still invisible but no less real. I was here for the child, for the answers I owed them. They deserved to know where they came from, even if it was tangled in the wreckage of a fleeting mistake.

A cold breeze slipped under my coat, sending a shiver through me. My feet ached to march across the grass, to demand accountability or maybe just a hint of remorse. But pride and purpose anchored me. Confronting Eric wouldn’t change the past. It wouldn’t make him a father, and it wouldn’t make me any less determined to protect this fragile new future.

I closed my eyes for a moment, drawing in a steadying breath. This isn’t about him anymore. It’s about us.

“Looks like you’re not the only one left in the dust.”

The voice came from behind me, smooth but edged with sarcasm. I turned sharply, my eyes landing on a man leaning against a tree. He was tall, his lean frame effortlessly confident. Dark hair fell into striking eyes that held a glint of something unreadable. He exuded ease, but there was an edge to him—like someone who had seen too much and learned to wear detachment like armor.

His gaze flicked from me to Eric and back again, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

I bristled. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged, pushing away from the tree with lazy grace. “I’m just saying, if you’re planning to confront him, you might want to get in line.”

“Who are you? The president of the Broken Hearts Club?”

He chuckled, a low sound that made me grit my teeth. “Something like that.”

His eyes softened just a fraction, the smirk fading into something more thoughtful. “Look, whatever your story is, you’re not alone. That guy’s got a talent for leaving destruction in his wake.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Why do you care?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Let’s just say… I have my reasons.”

I studied him for a moment, curiosity and suspicion battling within me. Whoever he was, he seemed just as caught up in Eric’s web as I was. And though I didn’t know his story, there was something oddly comforting about the idea that I wasn’t the only one trying to make sense of the mess Eric left behind.

He gave me a half-smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe we can help each other.”

I crossed my arms. “And why would I trust you?”

He stepped back, his hands raised in mock surrender. “You don’t have to. But sooner or later, we’re going to run into each other again.”

With that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

I watched him go, a strange feeling settling in my chest—something between dread and hope.

I didn’t know who he was or how he and Eric were connected.

But one thing was certain: this wasn’t over.