I used to love Tuesdays. Not the morning part, obviously. But the evening? That was my favorite—dinner with my mom, a good meal, and an hour-long update on my life. The only downside? Her relentless attempts to set me up on blind dates. (A tradition I could really do without.)
That was before Eric Thompson happened. Now that the Eric Thompson era is officially over, I have two equally horrible options: 1. Brace myself for a fresh round of blind dates. 2. Tell my mother I’m pregnant. Both are terrible. So, naturally, I choose to do neither—at least until Eric knows he has a fetus out there with his name on it. Call it closure, or call it my inability to move on from a fling. Either way, I’m stalling. And yet, here I am, on a Tuesday evening—the one part of the week I actually enjoy—except someone is ruining it. Sitting beside me in a not-so-fancy restaurant, waiting for my mother, is none other than Mr. I Like to Meddle himself—Damien Carter. How Did This Happen? Let’s Rewind I was at my desk, debating whether to crash like an overworked laptop or get coffee to replenish the energy I never actually lost. But I’m pregnant now, which means reckless caffeine consumption is off the table. Also, I need this job to survive, so passing out at work isn’t a great idea either. Meanwhile, Damien Carter was having the time of his life. He walked into the office like he was auditioning for the role of Mysterious Billionaire With a Dark Past. If I squinted hard enough, I could almost hear the dramatic background music. No greeting. No small talk. Just this: "What time are you getting off work?" I was bored, so I decided to answer with the same level of drama. "Why? Are you planning to escort a damsel in distress home?" "No," he replied, completely unfazed. "But you look like you need another kind of stimulation that isn’t coffee." I blinked. Twice. He gestured dramatically before continuing, "So, why don’t we stalk your ex together and pretend it’s part of work?" I stared at him, unimpressed. "Yeah, that’s gonna be a no from me." "So you don’t know what Eric has been up to since the breakup?" His voice was laced with curiosity. "Most people would be dying to know." "Well, I’m not most people, and if I were, I wouldn’t waste my curiosity on him." He opened his mouth to say something else, but my phone vibrated—saving me from whatever nonsense he had planned next. It was my mom. The moment I picked up, she dove straight to business, but not without her usual pet name. "Anna, don’t forget about our dinner tonight." "Sure, Mom. I’ll be there." The call ended like it never happened, but one thing remained constant—Damien Carter, buzzing around me like an overconfident housefly. He smirked. "So, you have dinner plans with your mom. That’s why you’re bailing on me. No, wait—bailing on work." "Technically, it’s after work hours. And trust me, I’d happily bail on you anytime." His smirk widened. "I can wait while you have dinner with her. Then we’ll go after." And just like that, he disappeared. Not only did he figure out my plans, but he also somehow ended up driving me to the restaurant and is now sitting beside me, waiting for my mom like we’re a couple or something. I should have known that this would happen. After what felt like an eternity of sitting beside Damien, my mom finally arrived. She barely had time to sit down before her gaze landed on Damien—like a predator spotting its prey. "Oh, Anna, isn’t it too early for another one? You’re just getting over Eric!" I nearly choked on my own saliva. "Mom, meet Damien Carter. A colleague. Who insists on working after work hours." I thought that explanation would be enough to save myself. But I forgot one thing: My mother doesn’t listen. She ignored me entirely and turned to Damien, smiling like she had won the lottery. "Oh, don’t lie! I don’t mind, you both look so good together," she gushed, completely ignoring me and turning to Damien. "I’m Emily, nice to meet you, darling." And like a dutiful son-in-law in training, he answered, "Nice to meet you," stretching out a hand for a shake. After their weirdly long handshake, I cleared my throat, desperate to change the subject. "Mom, shouldn’t we order?" She waved me off, still laser-focused on Damien like he was some rare collectible. "Oh, of course, of course! What do you like, Damien?" The traitor didn’t even hesitate. "I’ll have whatever Adrianna’s having," he said smoothly. My mother’s grin widened. "How adorable! You already know each other’s tastes." I groaned internally and snatched the menu. "Fine. One pasta for me, one for Damien." I glanced at him. "Unless you’d rather eat your own words?" He smirked. "Pasta sounds perfect." As the waiter walked away, I prayed that would be the end of my suffering But as we continued eating, my mom wasn’t done yet. "But are you really just a work colleague? You’re too handsome to be a work colleague," she said, leaning forward like she was conducting an interrogation. And that’s when it hit me—Damien Carter wasn’t just annoying. He was annoyingly perfect. Like a leading man in a romance novel sent to make everyone else look painfully average. Sharp jaw, high cheekbones, smirk permanently set to ‘infuriating’. Tousled dark hair, intense eyes, and even the exact right amount of stubble. It was like he knew he looked this good, and that was the worst part. But if I had convinced myself otherwise before, Damien shattered that illusion with his next words. "Yes, ma’am, I am still a work colleague," he said smoothly. And like a chick snatching food from a hen’s mouth, my mom pounced on his phrasing. "I love that still. That means you’ve been trying," she practically purred. Then, leaning in conspiratorially, she whispered (badly), "Why don’t I set you up as one of her blind dates? I’ll threaten her for you." I didn’t choke on my water. I violently aspirated my entire soul. The coughing fit was so bad that my face turned purple, and for one tragic moment, I was certain this would be my cause of death. Meanwhile, Damien Carter? He just sat there, watching my suffering like it was prime entertainment. A pathetic ending to a dinner I never should have agreed to."She was the kind of person who leaves a mark on every soul she meets."I didn’t need a follow-up to know Damien was talking about his ex.We were still sitting on the hill, the city spread out beneath us like a painting. Maybe it was the quiet, maybe the view—but something about the moment cracked him open.“Her name was Elena,” he said, softer now. “Gentle as her name. Fierce at heart.”He didn’t wait for a response. Just kept talking, like the words had been waiting for an escape route.“I met her while covering a case like the one at the clinic. Her father was involved, but she never flinched. She stood her ground.”He paused.“We started dating not long after. And every moment with her felt like poetry.”He wasn’t looking at me anymore. Just out into the skyline, like the past was painted there.“She moved in. I thought maybe forever was real. Then one night, I came home and—she was just gone. Like someone scooped out part of me and left a ghost behind.”His voice wavered. Not en
There’s nothing scarier for an employee than getting summoned to their boss’s office alone. Especially when there’s nothing scheduled.That was my first thought when the intercom buzzed and Mr. Callahan’s voice said, “Adrianna, can you come to my office?”Callahan isn’t the kind of boss who invites you in for casual chit-chat. If he calls, it means something has either gone very right—or very, very wrong.“Maybe you’re getting promoted,” Jenna said, trailing behind me like my personal anxiety soundtrack.I didn’t bother replying. We both knew there was zero chance of that. Fired? Maybe. Transferred? Possible. Doomed? Likely.“Or maybe,” she continued, trying to match my long-legged panic pace, “he’s assigning you to something big.”“Go back,” I said, cutting her off. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”She lingered at the hallway corner like she didn’t trust me to survive. “Don’t panic,” she whispered, more to herself than to me.I took a deep breath and opened the door to Callahan’s off
The next time I met Eric was nothing short of a scene ripped straight from a romcom.It was a Saturday—the kind meant for staying in, binge-watching trash TV, or complaining to Jenna about our boss over greasy takeout. Or, if duty called, stalking a celebrity for a scandal. Anything but this.Instead, I was stuck in a high-end restaurant on a blind date my mother set up.My date was going on (and on) about a high-profile case he’d won for some CEO, and I was seconds away from using the woman at the table behind me as a mental escape hatch.She was telling her friends how her ex had posted another girl with a heart emoji caption, claimed it was her birthday, and said they were cousins—except she knew the girl. She was a senior back in her school days, and definitely not family.I was this close to turning my chair around to hear the full gist when he walked in.Eric.Wearing a perfectly tailored suit—his signature look—he walked like someone who knew the world watched him and didn’t mi
Do you think it is okay like thisI used to love my job. It kept me just busy enough to ignore the fact that my personal life was on fire.Wake up. Chase scandals. Expose secrets. Rinse. Repeat.Rich people’s drama always felt safer than my own. But today? Not even a cheating billionaire or a PR crisis can save me from yesterday’s emotional ambush.“You need to end it,” my mom had said.“No,” I’d shot back, like that one word was strong enough to hold back an avalanche.“You don’t want to end up like me, Adrianna.” She only ever used my full name when she was mad—or when she was right.And that’s when I made the mistake of asking the question that didn’t need an answer.“What’s so wrong with ending up like you?”Cue dramatic silence. The kind that echoed with all the things I already knew.She had me young. Unmarried. Loved a man who didn’t—or couldn’t—stay. And when he died, we got nothing. Not a name. Not a dime. Just a life she had to build from scratch.And now I’m out here… pregn
"What did the doctor say?" "Is she going to be alright?" "They're still running some tests." The voices swirled around me, muffled and distant. I couldn’t tell who was speaking or where I was. My eyelids felt like they were weighed down with lead, and trying to open them was like pushing against a wall. I wanted to move, but my limbs wouldn’t respond. Panic crept in—was this what being paralyzed felt like? My fingers tingled faintly, giving me a flicker of hope. "I'm going to give her a shot," someone said, their voice clinical and detached. My heart pounded. I hated injections—wanted to scream and push them away—but my mouth wouldn’t open, and I felt trapped in my own body. The world around me started to blur even more, voices turning into whispers that faded into silence. Darkness swallowed me whole. When I woke up again, I wasn’t lying down. I was somewhere else—a room that felt both strange and familiar. A warmth lingered in the air, the kind that reminded me of old memories I
“What do you mean?” I asked Damien, stopping myself from falling back into thoughts of Eric.“You don't really have a choice,” he started, holding up a document I hadn’t noticed before. “I took permission from Mr. Callahan.”If I’d been drinking anything, I would have choked.“You took permission to stalk my ex?”He gave me a look like I was being dramatic. “Correction—our exes. And it’s not stalking if it’s for work.”I wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or annoyed. On one hand, it wasn’t something worse—like some new twist involving Eric. On the other hand, it meant I’d have to confront reality. And that reality was Eric.Still, some part of me was relieved. Because not knowing anything about the man who might be the father of my child? That was scarier than facing him.“So, do I have your consent to start our field trip tomorrow?” Damien drawled.I rolled my eyes. “Like you care about consent.”He just smirked. “You’re right. I don’t. See you tomorrow.”I didn’t respond, and he s