Shawn Pov

SHAWN MALLORY POV

Shawn Mallory had never been one for chaos. He liked his world full of numbers and codes. Predictable lines of logic. Language that obeyed. Machines that responded without emotional interference. He built AI programs that mimicked human behavior, but even those were less frustrating than real people.

Still, every once in a while, his best friends managed to drag him away from his glowing screens and humming servers. That night, ten years ago, had been one of those moments.

He hadn't wanted to go. He was knee-deep in debugging the latest chatbot prototype he named AI Anastasia she was proving problematic just like real-life women an emotionally adaptive concierge bot that could schedule your life and flirt while doing it. Desmond had texted him: "We're going out. Don't make me come to that damn lab." Brandon had just sent an address. Typical.

He showed up reluctantly fitted black suit, gold cufflinks, Gold Rolex glinting in low lighting. Always clean. Always dressed like he gave a damn. He didn't care for chaos, but he also wasn't going to be seen in sweats.

The harem had been Desmond's idea. A luxury suite hidden inside one of his hotels — girls paid to entertain billionaires with champagne, conversation, and whatever followed after. Shawn had no interest in random hookups, but he hadn't seen the boys in weeks, and honestly, he needed the break.

And then she walked in.

Aaliyah Moore.

He recognized the surname of her sister, Geena Moore, as the exact reason he didn't mess with groupies. Loud, reckless, and always two steps away from a scandal. He'd seen her once trying to seduce Brandon at a polo match. When Aaliyah walked in that night, he'd assumed the same thing: another Moore girl, dressed to tease and play games.

But she wasn't like her sister. Not at all.

There was something… innocent and quieter about her. Something graceful. Her beauty was arresting, but not loud. She wore a soft, gold silk robe, nothing like the others. Her eyes carried a sadness he didn't understand, and a fire she tried to hide.

She was stunning. She was Blasian like him smooth almond skin, soft waves of black hair, delicate features, and a body that made a man lose focus mid-sentence. But it wasn't just that. She asked him smart questions. Real ones. She laughed at his sarcastic jokes not the loud fake ones, but the subtle, dry lines that slipped past most people.

And he made her laugh a real, belly-deep, head-thrown-back water in your eyes kind of laugh. He lived for that kind of reaction. The way her hand rested on his knee after, the way her smile lingered. For a second, he wondered…

But no. That week was sex filled and hazy. They all drank a little more than usual. Desmond had some top-shelf liquor imported from a private island in the Maldives, and Brandon was in a terrible mood. Something about a fight with his father about Marriage. Everyone was high-strung. And Aaliyah… she'd been tricked into coming. Shawn had overheard the whole sordid story later. Geena and a girl (Karly) had lured her there under pretenses. She didn't know they had paid handsomely for her services. Geena Set her up. She should have run but she chose to stay, and they had a Sex filled week ..

It was a week he didn't think much about after. Aaliyah left. No number. No contact. Gone. Desmond moved on. Brandon shut down. Shawn went back to his lab. Work was always easier than feelings.

He'd used protection. He was always careful. Science was his religion, and he didn't play Russian roulette with biology. But condoms weren't foolproof, he knew that. Still, he was 99% sure nothing happened that would stick.

Which is why when ten years later, he received a call from an unknown number telling him to show up at Manhattan Private Children's Hospital and that Aaliyah Moore was there he almost didn't go.

Almost.

But that 1% bothered him. Logic demanded confirmation.

He walked into the hospital looking exactly how he always did fitted navy suit, silk tie, glasses perched on his nose, eyes sharp. Buff and clean-cut. He didn't believe in messy anything. His body was as disciplined as his mind — gym every morning before work, protein shakes, a strict diet, even when coding all night. People thought computer guys were soft. Not him.

He saw her before she saw him. Standing near a boy's bed — pale child, maybe ten. Curly hair. Wide brown eyes.

Her son.

His heart twisted, not with fear just something heavier. Aaliyah had changed. Grown into herself. Fuller hips. Stronger gaze. That same beautiful fire in her eyes, only now it was tempered with pain. She was even more stunning than before. And she wasn't here for games. There were no robes, no seduction. Just a mother trying to save her son.

He didn't need a paternity test. He knew he wasn't the father.

But still, he stayed.

Because science made him curious. Because friendship made him loyal. And because, for a moment when their eyes locked he felt something stir in him that he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.

She was looking at him like she remembered. Like she saw him.

Not the money. Not the empire. Just Shawn.

He wasn't going to lie to himself. He was intrigued. And jealous of Brandon, mostly. The way Brandon looked at her now was like she was his everything. And Desmond, too always casual, but never indifferent.

He wouldn't push.

He was a rival now. That much was clear.

And rivals didn't beg. They waited. Observed. Prepared. Calculated.

She was no longer the young shy girl from the harem and he wasn't just a man behind a computer screen anymore.