I woke up with the sun already creeping through the thick curtains, casting long slashes of light across the room. The sheets tangled around my legs, an weight I can’t seem to shake. I blink rapidly, disoriented, my head pounding as I try to make sense of my surroundings. The room is too clean, and too sleek. The kind of space that feels more like a model apartment than a home. Cold. Impersonal.

Where am I?

Then the memories come rushing back, like a flood, fragments of last night—too much heat, too much desire, too much of Declan Moore. I can feel his presence in the room before I even see him, and the warmth from his body lingers on my skin like a burn. I ran my hands over my face, willing the fog in my head to clear, but it’s no use. The pounding in my temples only got worse.

Declan.

His name felt like an electric shock to my system, a jolt that sent my heart into overdrive. I sat up, immediately regretting the movement as dizziness overwhelmed me. I held my head in my hands, trying to steady my breath. This is was a mistake. A massive mistake.

His scent was everywhere—the cologne he wore, the faint traces of his skin still on my sheets, and I couldn't seem to get away from it. My body betrayed me with each breath I took, remembering every moment of what transpired last night.

I wanted to hate myself for this. I wanted to scream at myself for letting things go so far, for letting him in. But the truth is, last night felt good. Too good. There’s no denying that. Gawddd!!!

I glanced around the room, taking in the opulence. The polished floors, the designer furniture, the sprawling city view outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. This is his world, not mine. And it’s a world I don’t belong in.

I've got to get out of here.

I scrambled to find my clothes, tossed haphazardly on the floor. My shirt was wrinkled, my pants were half undone, gosh …and I felt a wave of shame as I tugged them on. I couldn't even remember how I got into bed, well okay maybe I do but stilll I must’ve been out of my mind.

I was pulling my shirt over my head when I hear movement from the kitchen.

Him. Declan,I mean.

I froze, heart skipping a beat as the realization sinks in. He’s here.

Well, obviously.

The door to the kitchen opens, and there he is, standing in the doorway, looking impossibly relaxed for someone who just spent the night with a stranger. His dark hair is tousled, eyes heavy with sleep, but there’s something warm about him. Something that makes my chest tighten in ways I don’t want to acknowledge.

“Morning,” he says, his voice hoarse, like he’s still half-dreaming.

Morning??

I blinked at him, once, twice, thrice, unsure what to say. He’s acting so casual about it, like nothing happened between us at all. I hate how it makes me feel, like I’m the one who’s screwed things up. I’m not even sure what I expected from him, but this? This wasn’t it.

“Uh, morning?” It came out as a question more like a statement, my voice feeling so small and unsure.

He notices my unease immediately, his gaze sharpening. “Uhmm you alright?”

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my nerves. “Yeah, just… tired.”

He watched me for a moment, but there’s no judgment in his eyes. “You hungry? I can make something. No pressure. Just offering.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of his gaze settle on me, making me uncomfortable in a way that’s hard to explain. He’s too kind. Too damn polite, like he’s some kind of gentleman who doesn’t belong in my life.

I should leave. I should get out before things get any more complicated. But there’s this pull, this strange comfort in his presence, that’s hard to ignore.

“No thanks, uhh I think I should go,” I say, my voice firmer this time, though it still cracks.

Declan raises an eyebrow, stepping closer, but he doesn’t crowd me. He’s giving me space, like he understands my need to leave. “Alright,” he says quietly. “No expectations.”

I look away, unable to meet his gaze for too long. “Thanks,” I mutter, grabbing my bag off the couch.

I make my way toward the door, trying not to think too hard about the mess I’m leaving behind. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what any of this means.

Just as I’m about to step out, Declan’s voice stops me.

“If you eventually change your mind,” he calls, “I’m not going anywhere.”

I don’t turn around. I just nodded stiffly and left.

---

Two weeks later

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at my reflection like I don’t recognize the person staring back at me. My skin was pale, my eyes hollowed out from the lack of sleep, and the nausea that’s been gnawing at me for days now isn’t going away.

I clutched the pregnancy test in my hand, fingers trembling. I’ve taken a few already, all of them negative, but something in my gut tells me this one will be different. This time, I’m not as hopeful as I was the first time. This time, I know something’s wrong.

I exhale slowly and glance at the test, heart pounding in my chest. The lines appear almost immediately—two pink lines.

Positive.

The world tilts beneath my feet. I stumble back, my breath catching in my throat. I press the back of my hand to my mouth to stop myself from crying out.

I stare at the test, the numbers and lines blurry.

What the hell am I going to do now?

The room felt smaller, like it’s closing in on me. The walls were too tight, the air too thick. I held the test in front of me, as if it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.

It’s positive. I’m pregnant. I’m freaking pregnant.

And there’s more than one possible father.

I sank into the cold tiled floor, clutching the test against my chest like it’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart, like my whole life depended on it and frankly speaking, it does. The thought that it could be Jordan’s—my soon-to-be ex-husband—makes my stomach turn. But then, there’s Declan. His face flashes in my mind. The way he touched me. The way he made me feel things I hadn’t felt in so long.

I let out a shaky breath. “It can’t be…” I whisper to myself, the words tasting like betrayal.

But it is. And now I have no idea what the hell to do.

I sat on the edge of my bed, the phone pressed to my ear like the heat emitting from it was the only thing keeping me grounded.

“Lila, you’ve got to tell them,” Zoey said, her voice sharp. “Both of them. You can’t hide this forever and you know it.”

I ran my hands through my hair, fighting the urge to snap. It wasn’t that simple. I didn’t even know who the father was yet. Gawd, I wish I had never gotten myself tangled in this mess.

“You don’t get it,” I said, my voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know. I’m not sure if it’s Declan’s or Jordan’s, and I’m not about to drag either of them into this until I have the answer. This isn’t some fairy tale where I get to pick the guy and live happily ever after.”

There was silence on the other end of the line before Zoey spoke again, softer this time. “But you will have to tell them eventually. Secrets have a way of leaking out, Lila. And when they do, it’s going to be ten times worse.”

I didn’t need the lecture. I knew the consequences of keeping secrets all too well. I’d lived through the betrayal of a man I thought I could trust—now I was the one holding the secret, and I wasn’t sure I could trust myself.

“I know,” I said, exhaling. “I’m just… I’m just trying to get a little more time before it all blows up.”

“You better get to that doctor’s appointment, then,” Zoey urged. “Find out for sure. It’s the only way you’ll know what’s really going on.”

I didn’t argue. Zoey had a point.

The next morning, I booked an appointment. A small part of me hated how routine it all felt—sitting in a sterile exam room, waiting for the confirmation that I was pregnant with a life I wasn’t sure how to explain to anyone. I kept my fingers pressed against my lips, trying not to think of the future, of the confusion, of the absolute mess I was in.

The door opened, and the doctor walked in with a reassuring smile. "Lila, we’re going to take care of you. Let's get this all sorted out, shall we?"

I nodded, forcing a smile in return.

An hour later, I was out the door, the information still swirling in my head, but at least I had confirmation.

I was pregnant.

But what now?

I didn’t have time to dwell on the future. As soon as I stepped outside, my phone buzzed. I glanced down, and my heart stopped.

Headline on Gossip Blog: “Moore’s Mystery Woman Expecting?”

Another one popped up. “Carter’s Ex and a Billion-Dollar Baby”.

The comment section was already spiraling.

“Is that Lila Carter?”

“Correction, Lila Bennett"

“Who’s the father? Declan Moore or her ex-husband, Jordan Carter?”

“How does Moore’s woman have a baby with Carter’s ex? Somebody explain this one!”

I froze, my stomach dropping.

Someone had followed me. Someone had seen me entering the building. Someone had leaked it.

The walls seemed to close in, and my breath grew shallow. No one was supposed to know about the appointment. But now, everything had unraveled before I even had the chance to figure it out myself.

I went numb.

By the time I got home, I was barely holding myself together. The apartment felt too small, the walls too thin. The weight of the world pressed down on me.

And then there was a knock on the door.

I didn’t need to ask who it was. I could feel the rage radiating through the wood.

Jordan.

I opened the door, and there he stood—tall, imposing, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like he might break something.

“I saw the photos,” he spat, shoving past me as he stormed into the apartment. “What the hell is this, Lila?”

I didn’t even have time to speak before he turned to face me, his eyes wild. “What did you do? Why were you at the Moore Prenatal Clinic? Is that his baby?”

My pulse throbbed in my temples. “Jordan, will you calm down and just shut the fuck up” I said, trying to push past him. I couldn’t let him get to me, not now. “I don’t know. I don’t know who the father is and I don't know what's happening to me.”

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Don’t play games with me. You think you can just walk into a doctor’s office with Declan Moore’s child inside of you and not tell me the truth?”

His words stung like acid, cutting deeper than I wanted to admit.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know,” I snapped, my hands trembling. “I’m not some woman you can control, Jordan. I’m not—”

He stepped forward, his hands reaching for me, but I pushed him away, instinctively. “No. Don’t touch me. You don’t get to decide this. We're not together anymore Jordan, Get that into your dumb head”

His eyes flickered with anger, and then, just as quickly, something shifted. His gaze dropped to my stomach, and the hardness in his face softened for a moment.

“Is it mine?” he growled, his voice low, filled with something darker, something desperate.

The question hung between us like a blade.

I didn’t answer right away. I couldn’t. The uncertainty felt like it was suffocating me, threatening to pull me under.

But I didn’t have an answer for him. Not yet. And the longer I looked at him, the more I realized I might never have one.

“No,” I whispered finally, my heart aching at the weight of the truth. “I don’t know.”

His eyes burned through me, and for a moment, I thought he might explode. But then, he seemed to deflate, his shoulders sagging as he turned away, pacing the small space. “You think this is some game, Lila? You think I can just walk away from this?”

“I don’t know what you think you’re entitled to, but I’m not playing games,” I said, my voice steady despite the chaos inside. “I’m not going to be dragged into some pathetic back-and-forth over something I can’t even control.”

I hated the way the words tasted, but they were true. This was beyond my control now.

Jordan stopped pacing and turned back to me, his face unreadable. “You think I’m going to let another man raise my child?”

I shook my head, my stomach twisting. “This isn’t about you, Jordan. It’s about me for Christ sake.”

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence, the air thick with unspoken words.

Finally, Jordan spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. “We’re not done, Lila.”

And just like that, he was gone, slamming the door behind him, leaving a tense atmosphere behind.

I stood there, feeling as though the ground beneath me had split open, and I was left teetering on the edge of all of it.