I closed the door behind me, resting my forehead against the cool wood as I let out the breath I’d been holding since I walked away from him. My heart still thudded against my ribs, louder than it had during the conversation itself.He hadn’t run.That was the part that kept echoing in my head.He hadn’t yelled, denied, or disappeared. He listened. And though his words hadn’t been filled with promises and romantic declarations, there had been something raw in his voice—an emotion I hadn’t expected from a man who made power plays before breakfast.Still, it didn’t change the reality.I was pregnant.And now he knew.I kicked off my heels and padded barefoot to the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water I didn’t really want. My stomach was tight, not from morning sickness but nerves. I hadn’t told anyone else. Not my best friend, not my mom, not even my doctor beyond the confirmation appointment. It was too fragile, too early.Too real.My phone buzzed from the counter.Nathan: I mean
OliviaThe words were still there when I opened my phone again.Does he know who you really are?I sat on the edge of my bed, fingers numb and vision blurry. I’d stared at the message so long it had burned into my eyes. No number. No name. Just six little words that threatened to crack the foundation I was trying so hard to build.I deleted it.Then I blocked the number.And still… I didn’t feel safe.I hadn’t told Nathan. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t know how to be ready. Whatever this was—someone playing games, or something more serious—I needed time to figure it out before dragging him into the chaos. He was already adjusting to the idea of fatherhood. That was enough pressure without adding this shadow from my past.Because whoever sent that message?They knew something.---NathanI knew something was wrong.Olivia brushed it off in the office, but she hadn’t been herself. Not since the meeting. Not since the text. I’d seen the way her expression changed—the way she locked her phone
Olivia's pov The moment I saw the photo, I knew I was in trouble.Not the kind you could talk your way out of. Not even the kind that came with a clean ending. This was the kind of trouble that crept in through the cracks you thought you’d sealed tight—the kind that wore your past like perfume.It was me in the photo. Standing on the sidewalk in front of a building I hadn’t seen in over a year. The shadows in the frame weren’t just from the afternoon sun—they were the ghosts I thought I’d left behind in New York.I shoved the picture into my drawer before anyone could see it. My hands were shaking.The baby inside me—my baby—deserved better than this mess. I closed my eyes and took a breath, one hand instinctively going to my belly like I could shield it from the world.I needed to tell Nathan.I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. Because it wasn’t.---I barely heard the knock on my office door. Kelly popped her head in with her usual chipper smile.“Nathan’s asking for y
Olivia's pov The photo sat on my nightstand, flipped over, but I could still feel its presence like it was burning through the wood. Sleep hadn’t come. I’d changed positions a dozen times, counted backward from a hundred, tried breathing exercises—but none of it worked. My mind wouldn’t stop spinning. Vanessa’s visit had stirred up more than just memories. It had opened a vault I’d kept locked for over a year. And now the past wasn’t just tapping at the door—it had kicked it wide open. I glanced at my phone again. 11:47 PM. I couldn’t keep this in. Not anymore. Not when the threats were circling like vultures. Not when Nathan, unknowingly, had just stepped into the blast zone. And especially not when I was carrying his child. I opened my contacts and hovered over his name. You’re going to ruin everything, the voice in my head whispered. What if he changes his mind about you? But I tapped Call anyway. He answered after two rings. “Olivia?” His voice was soft, hoarse with sl
Olivia's pov The message stayed with me the whole night. Even after I tucked my phone beneath my pillow, even after I shut my eyes and begged sleep to take me—it’s not over—those words throbbed in my skull like a warning bell I couldn’t silence. By the time the first weak rays of morning light spilled through my window, I hadn’t slept more than twenty minutes. My stomach churned with a sickening cocktail of anxiety and nausea, and my body felt like it had been through a storm. But I got up anyway. Because that’s what you do when fear tries to paralyze you. You move. You breathe. You keep going. I took a longer shower than usual, letting the hot water beat down my back and loosen some of the tightness from my shoulders. I brushed out my hair slowly, carefully—trying to create a sense of control in at least one small area of my life. The baby fluttered inside me—a soft, reassuring little nudge that reminded me I wasn’t alone. “Hey,” I whispered to the bump, rest
Olivia's pov I barely slept, again. But this time, it wasn’t fear keeping me up—it was purpose. There was something empowering about having all the evidence laid out on my table, about finally opening the box I’d kept sealed for over a year. I’d been afraid that confronting it would shatter me, but it didn’t. If anything, it lit a fire under me. I had proof. I had support. I had something worth fighting for. Myself. My child. And—whether I was ready to admit it out loud or not—Nathan. So when I woke the next morning, I wasn’t running. I was planning. The first thing I did was call my lawyer. Technically, former lawyer—Eleanor Braverman had represented me in the early stages of separating from Mitchell, back when I still believed the legal system would offer protection from men like him. It didn’t. Not really. But Eleanor had been one of the few people who genuinely tried. Who believed me. Who fought when no one else would. She picked up on the second ring. “Olivia?” she
Olivia Bennett wasn’t the type to cry in public. She wasn’t the type to get drunk on a Thursday night, either. But there she was, curled up on a high stool at the edge of a sleek hotel bar, staring down into the amber swirl of her third whiskey sour.It burned going down, but not nearly enough.Her reflection in the mirror behind the bar looked like a stranger. Red eyes. Smudged mascara. That thousand-yard stare of someone who’d just watched her world implode.Two years. Two years wasted on a man who called her his everything, who promised forever—and cheated with the one person she trusted most.Clara.Even thinking the name made her stomach twist.Clara, her best friend since college. Clara, her bridesmaid-to-be. Clara, currently screwing her fiancé on a desk Olivia used to work at.She took another sip, resisting the wave of nausea that came with the memory.She hadn’t said a word to either of them. Just walked out of the office without a scene. Without screaming. Without slapping
(Nathan’s POV):He didn’t make a habit of taking strangers home.Nathan Carter lived his life with rules. Discipline. Control. Everything about his company, his reputation, his image—it was calculated.But something about her had shattered that control the moment she walked into the hotel bar.She looked like heartbreak wrapped in a dress. A storm he shouldn’t touch. But he did.He didn’t know her name. Didn’t need to. There was pain in her eyes, anger too. The kind he understood. She didn’t want to talk. She wanted to forget.And for one night, he let himself forget too.She hadn’t stayed to talk. She was gone when he woke, like a whisper—no note, no goodbye. Just her scent on his pillow and a memory of her soft body curled against his.He expected that to be the end.Until she walked into his office.Nathan stood behind his desk, reviewing the morning schedule, when the door opened and the new hire stepped in.At first, he only caught her silhouette. Slim. Confident. Professional.
Olivia's pov I barely slept, again. But this time, it wasn’t fear keeping me up—it was purpose. There was something empowering about having all the evidence laid out on my table, about finally opening the box I’d kept sealed for over a year. I’d been afraid that confronting it would shatter me, but it didn’t. If anything, it lit a fire under me. I had proof. I had support. I had something worth fighting for. Myself. My child. And—whether I was ready to admit it out loud or not—Nathan. So when I woke the next morning, I wasn’t running. I was planning. The first thing I did was call my lawyer. Technically, former lawyer—Eleanor Braverman had represented me in the early stages of separating from Mitchell, back when I still believed the legal system would offer protection from men like him. It didn’t. Not really. But Eleanor had been one of the few people who genuinely tried. Who believed me. Who fought when no one else would. She picked up on the second ring. “Olivia?” she
Olivia's pov The message stayed with me the whole night. Even after I tucked my phone beneath my pillow, even after I shut my eyes and begged sleep to take me—it’s not over—those words throbbed in my skull like a warning bell I couldn’t silence. By the time the first weak rays of morning light spilled through my window, I hadn’t slept more than twenty minutes. My stomach churned with a sickening cocktail of anxiety and nausea, and my body felt like it had been through a storm. But I got up anyway. Because that’s what you do when fear tries to paralyze you. You move. You breathe. You keep going. I took a longer shower than usual, letting the hot water beat down my back and loosen some of the tightness from my shoulders. I brushed out my hair slowly, carefully—trying to create a sense of control in at least one small area of my life. The baby fluttered inside me—a soft, reassuring little nudge that reminded me I wasn’t alone. “Hey,” I whispered to the bump, rest
Olivia's pov The photo sat on my nightstand, flipped over, but I could still feel its presence like it was burning through the wood. Sleep hadn’t come. I’d changed positions a dozen times, counted backward from a hundred, tried breathing exercises—but none of it worked. My mind wouldn’t stop spinning. Vanessa’s visit had stirred up more than just memories. It had opened a vault I’d kept locked for over a year. And now the past wasn’t just tapping at the door—it had kicked it wide open. I glanced at my phone again. 11:47 PM. I couldn’t keep this in. Not anymore. Not when the threats were circling like vultures. Not when Nathan, unknowingly, had just stepped into the blast zone. And especially not when I was carrying his child. I opened my contacts and hovered over his name. You’re going to ruin everything, the voice in my head whispered. What if he changes his mind about you? But I tapped Call anyway. He answered after two rings. “Olivia?” His voice was soft, hoarse with sl
Olivia's pov The moment I saw the photo, I knew I was in trouble.Not the kind you could talk your way out of. Not even the kind that came with a clean ending. This was the kind of trouble that crept in through the cracks you thought you’d sealed tight—the kind that wore your past like perfume.It was me in the photo. Standing on the sidewalk in front of a building I hadn’t seen in over a year. The shadows in the frame weren’t just from the afternoon sun—they were the ghosts I thought I’d left behind in New York.I shoved the picture into my drawer before anyone could see it. My hands were shaking.The baby inside me—my baby—deserved better than this mess. I closed my eyes and took a breath, one hand instinctively going to my belly like I could shield it from the world.I needed to tell Nathan.I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. Because it wasn’t.---I barely heard the knock on my office door. Kelly popped her head in with her usual chipper smile.“Nathan’s asking for y
OliviaThe words were still there when I opened my phone again.Does he know who you really are?I sat on the edge of my bed, fingers numb and vision blurry. I’d stared at the message so long it had burned into my eyes. No number. No name. Just six little words that threatened to crack the foundation I was trying so hard to build.I deleted it.Then I blocked the number.And still… I didn’t feel safe.I hadn’t told Nathan. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t know how to be ready. Whatever this was—someone playing games, or something more serious—I needed time to figure it out before dragging him into the chaos. He was already adjusting to the idea of fatherhood. That was enough pressure without adding this shadow from my past.Because whoever sent that message?They knew something.---NathanI knew something was wrong.Olivia brushed it off in the office, but she hadn’t been herself. Not since the meeting. Not since the text. I’d seen the way her expression changed—the way she locked her phone
I closed the door behind me, resting my forehead against the cool wood as I let out the breath I’d been holding since I walked away from him. My heart still thudded against my ribs, louder than it had during the conversation itself.He hadn’t run.That was the part that kept echoing in my head.He hadn’t yelled, denied, or disappeared. He listened. And though his words hadn’t been filled with promises and romantic declarations, there had been something raw in his voice—an emotion I hadn’t expected from a man who made power plays before breakfast.Still, it didn’t change the reality.I was pregnant.And now he knew.I kicked off my heels and padded barefoot to the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water I didn’t really want. My stomach was tight, not from morning sickness but nerves. I hadn’t told anyone else. Not my best friend, not my mom, not even my doctor beyond the confirmation appointment. It was too fragile, too early.Too real.My phone buzzed from the counter.Nathan: I mean
The text came in at 8:47 p.m.Olivia: Can we talk? In person.Nathan stared at the message for a long time. Long enough that the screen dimmed and locked. He tapped it awake again, reread the words, and still didn’t move.She knew. Or maybe she didn’t know he knew. Maybe she wanted to say it herself. Either way, it was coming. The conversation. The fallout.He was still in his office, the building long quiet. Just the hum of the city beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows and the soft whir of the AC. He hadn’t left since that morning, since the HR meeting he barely remembered because he’d spent most of it wondering if Olivia had noticed how pale he looked. How he couldn’t meet her eyes.He hadn’t been able to think straight since he overheard the conversation between her and Cassie two days ago. It played on a loop in his head."I’m pregnant.""Does he know?""No."Except now he did. And she knew he knew. Probably. Possibly. God, he was spinning.He grabbed his phone, typed a response, t
Nathan's povIf someone had told Nathan Carter a week ago that a one-night stand would spiral into a full-blown professional crisis, he would’ve laughed it off.He didn’t laugh now.Olivia Bennett.She walked into his office that morning looking like a ghost from a fever dream—stunning, composed, and completely off-limits.He should’ve known her name that night. Should’ve asked more than just what she was drinking or if she wanted to get out of there. But he hadn’t. He’d wanted to forget everything for one damn night. Wanted to feel something—anything—other than the stress and monotony that had become his life.Instead, he got her.And now she worked for him.Brilliant.Nathan sat behind his desk, eyes locked on the spreadsheet open on his screen, but he couldn’t focus. Not with Olivia’s voice echoing in his head. Not with the image of her pale face when she walked into orientation, like she was holding herself together with thread.Something was wrong. He knew it. Felt it in his bone
Olivia's povStarting over was supposed to feel empowering.Instead, Olivia felt like she was walking a tightrope—with no safety net, no plan, and no idea what she was doing.She should’ve been focused on her first day at Carter & Co. She should’ve been excited about the sleek office, the view of Manhattan, the brilliant career pivot that had landed her here.But all she could think about was one terrible truth:She had slept with her boss.And if that weren’t enough of a cosmic joke, her cheating ex and ex–best friend worked two departments over.So much for a fresh start.---The elevator ride to the seventeenth floor felt longer than it should have. She smoothed down the front of her blouse for the fifth time and tried to ignore the sweat prickling at her hairline.Nathan hadn’t said a word about the night before. No lingering glances. No subtle digs. Just a smooth, corporate welcome as if they’d never even met.Which somehow made it worse.She should’ve been relieved. But his indi