Chapter 2

Her laughter echoed in the night, cold and heartless. “You heard me. It wasn’t that hard, really. A little money and a lot of persuasion can make anything happen. And now, everyone thinks you’re the little whore I’ve painted you to be.”

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The ground felt like it was crumbling beneath me. My hands shook as I tried to grasp what she had done.

“But why?” I asked again, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her expression hardened, the mask of fake sweetness falling away. “Because I wanted Damien for myself,” she said bluntly. “He deserves someone better than you. Someone like me. And now, thanks to me, he’ll see you for the fraud you are. He already does.”

Her words were like daggers, piercing me again and again. She had stolen my life, my future, all because of her jealousy and greed.

Oriana stepped closer, leaning down until her face was inches from mine. “You’ll thank me one day,” she said, her voice filled with venom. “For showing everyone who you really are.”

With that, she straightened up, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and laughed again. It was a cruel, victorious sound that made my stomach churn. She turned and walked back toward the house, her steps light and confident as though she hadn’t just destroyed my entire life.

The door slammed shut behind her, the sound echoing in the still night like a final nail in the coffin of my shattered life. My body trembled as the cold air bit into my skin, but it was nothing compared to the storm raging inside me. My sobs echoed around me, loud and broken, as I hugged myself tightly, trying to hold the pieces of my soul together.

How could this be my life? How could someone I grew up with, someone I had shared memories and a home with, hate me enough to destroy me like this? The weight of it pressed down on my chest until I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

But sitting here wouldn’t change anything. They didn’t want me. Nobody did. I wiped my tear-streaked face with trembling hands, forced myself to my feet, and took a shaky step forward. My legs felt like lead, but I kept moving, leaving behind the house that had once been my home.

Out on the street, the world felt too big and too empty all at once. I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. The city lights blurred through my tears as I walked aimlessly, my feet carrying me forward even though I didn’t have a destination.

The night was eerily quiet except for the occasional hum of a passing car. I didn’t pay attention to where I was going. My mind was too consumed by everything that had happened. The betrayal. The lies. The loneliness.

As I reached the edge of the road, my thoughts clouded my senses. I didn’t look up. I didn’t notice the faint roar of an approaching car until the blinding glare of its headlights lit up the dark street.

The sound of tires screeching against asphalt broke through my daze. My eyes widened in horror as the lights rushed toward me. I froze, my legs refusing to move, my body paralyzed by fear. The car was coming too fast. This was it. This was how it would end.

But the impact never came.

Before I could process what had happened, my vision blurred and my body went limp. The adrenaline, the exhaustion, the heartbreak—it was too much. My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the cold pavement. Darkness consumed me as my mind gave in to the overwhelming weight of it all.

The steady beeping of monitors was the first thing I noticed as I slowly opened my eyes. The room was bright, the white walls almost blinding against the sunlight streaming in through the large windows. I blinked a few times, trying to clear the haze in my mind. My body felt heavy, but I managed to turn my head and take in my surroundings.

The room looked clean and expensive, far beyond anything I could ever afford. The crisp sheets beneath me smelled fresh, and the faint scent of disinfectant lingered in the air. Confusion filled my mind as I tried to piece together how I’d ended up here.

The last thing I remembered was the car—its blinding lights and the screeching tires. My heart raced as the memory resurfaced, but everything after that was a blank.

The door creaked open, and a doctor stepped in. He was a kind-looking man with graying hair and a clipboard in his hand. He smiled warmly at me.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice calm and soothing. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” I replied, though my voice was hoarse and weak.

“That’s good to hear,” he said, nodding as he checked the monitors beside my bed. “You’ve been through quite a scare, but you and the baby are doing fine.”

The word baby made my heart stop. It pulled me out of the fog and slammed me back into reality. Baby? My eyes widened as I processed his words.

“I’m really pregnant?” I whispered, almost to myself.

“Yes,” the doctor said gently, as if sensing the turmoil in my mind.

My hand instinctively moved to my stomach, resting there as I felt the faint curve that hadn’t been noticeable before. I wasn’t just carrying a life; I was responsible for it. A rush of emotions overwhelmed me—fear, confusion, but also a strange sense of determination.

I didn’t know how this had happened, and I didn’t know who the father was, but I did know one thing. No matter what, I was going to protect this baby with everything I had.

The sound of the door opening pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up, expecting to see the doctor again, but instead, a tall, intimidating man walked in.

He had an air of authority about him, his sharp black suit fitting him perfectly. His eyes scanned the room, landing on me briefly before turning to the doctor. His face was serious, almost cold, and his presence seemed to suck all the air out of the room.

“How’s my baby doing?” he asked, his voice deep and commanding.

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. His baby? What was he talking about? He couldn’t mean my baby, could he?

The doctor responded, his tone respectful. “The baby is perfectly fine, Mr. Blackwell. No complications so far.”

My mind raced. This had to be some mistake. He couldn’t be talking about my baby. I stared at him, unable to form words. He turned to look at me then, his piercing gaze locking onto mine.

“You’re awake,” the man said, his voice deep and smooth, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be standing in my hospital room.

I blinked, trying to make sense of everything. The tall, intimidating stranger in the black suit stood by the window, his piercing green eyes locked on me. His dark hair was neatly styled, complementing his sharp jawline that looked as though it had been carved from stone. There was an effortless perfection to his features, an otherworldly kind of beauty that made it impossible to look away. He was, without a doubt, the most handsome man I had ever seen in my life. Yet, there was something about him—his aura of authority, the way he carried himself—that made my stomach churn with both awe and unease.

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice hoarse and weak from crying and exhaustion.

“Kai Blackwell,” he said, his name rolling off his tongue with a confidence that suggested it held great weight. “I’m the father of the child you’re carrying.”