CHAPTER 6: The Fertility Clinic Truth

I stared at him.

The glass of water in my hand trembled, ripples spreading across the surface. My brain couldn't process what he'd just said.

"That's impossible."

Calloway leaned back in his chair, completely calm. Like he hadn't just detonated a bomb in the middle of my life. "It's not."

"I went to that clinic with Damien." My voice pitched higher. "We did the procedure together. They used his sample. I watched them—"

"You watched them take a vial labeled with his name. But the contents?" He tilted his head. "That was mine."

The room spun. I set down the water before I dropped it.

"You're telling me someone switched the samples? That this whole time—" I pressed my hand to my belly. "That you knew? You knew before you even showed up at my door?"

"Yes."

"How?"

Calloway stood, crossed to the window. His reflection stared back at me from the dark glass—tall, controlled, hiding something.

"Three months ago, Natasha drugged me at a charity gala."

Ice flooded my veins.

"She what?"

"Slipped something into my drink. I woke up the next morning in her apartment with no memory of the night before." His jaw tightened. "Two weeks later, she announced she was pregnant. Said it was mine. Demanded we move up the wedding."

Oh God.

"But you weren't pregnant," I said slowly, piecing it together. "She was lying."

"She was never pregnant. The whole thing was a setup." He turned to face me. "She'd taken a... sample. While I was unconscious. Stored it at a fertility clinic under a fake name."

My stomach turned. "That's—that's assault. That's—"

"Illegal. Yes." His voice was flat. "But impossible to prove without admitting I'd been drugged, which would've tanked a merger deal worth $2 billion. Natasha knew that."

"So what happened to the sample?"

"I hired investigators. Tracked it to the clinic. Planned to have it destroyed." He paused. "But when my team got there, they discovered something interesting."

My heart hammered. "What?"

"The same day Natasha stored my sample, another couple came in for IVF. The wife's name was Elena Anderson."

The floor tilted beneath me.

"You."

"You." He moved closer. "The clinic tech was overworked, understaffed. Two samples came in that day—mine under a fake name, Damien's under his real one. When your procedure time came..."

"She grabbed the wrong one."

"She grabbed the wrong one."

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.

"So this baby—" My hand trembled against my stomach. "This baby was supposed to be Natasha's weapon against you. But instead—"

"Instead, you got pregnant. With my child. By complete accident."

The irony was too much. Too insane.

"And you knew. This whole time. Even before the DNA test at the party." Anger spiked through my shock. "You let me think—you let me panic—"

"I needed everyone to believe the test was legitimate. Including you." His eyes held mine. "If you'd known beforehand, you would've acted differently. People would've suspected."

"You manipulated me."

"I protected us both."

"By lying!"

"By ensuring no one could claim the test was rigged!" His voice rose for the first time since I'd met him. Then he took a breath, controlled himself. "Natasha had already planted a witness at the hospital. She was building a case against you. If that DNA test had come back showing Damien was the father, she'd have destroyed you in the media. Claimed you were a gold digger who trapped me with another man's baby."

I wanted to be furious. Wanted to rage at him for keeping this secret.

But he was right.

If I'd known, I would've panicked. Would've refused the test. Would've looked guilty.

"When did you find out?" I asked quietly. "About me. About the pregnancy."

"Two months ago. My investigators tracked the sample's usage. Found your name on the clinic records." He sat on the edge of his desk. "I looked into you. Elena Carter Anderson. Structural engineer. Married three years. No red flags, no criminal record. Model citizen."

"You investigated me."

"Of course I did. I'm a father. I needed to know who was carrying my child."

The word hit me: father. He'd known he was going to be a father for two months before we even met.

"That's why you came to my house that day," I said. "The debt collection, the timing—that was all bullshit. You came because of the baby."

"Damien did owe me money. That part was true." Calloway's expression softened slightly. "But yes, I'd been watching you. Waiting for the right moment to... intervene."

"Intervene? I had a whole plan! I was going to expose Damien at the party, divorce him, take everything—"

"And then what?" He leaned forward. "You had no money, no house, no family support. You would've been eight months pregnant, fighting a legal battle against a man with nothing to lose." His voice gentled. "I couldn't let that happen. Not to you. Not to my child."

My throat tightened.

"So you married me."

"So I married you."

"And the contract? All those terms in my favor?"

"Were genuine. You needed protection, resources, security. I could provide all of that." He stood, moved closer. "But I won't lie to you, Elena. I had selfish reasons too."

"Like what?"

"Like wanting to be there. For every appointment, every milestone, every moment." His gray eyes held mine. "Like wanting to make sure my child grows up knowing their father. Like making sure you never have to face anything alone again."

Something in my chest cracked open.

"You could've told me," I whispered. "After the party. After we signed the contract. You could've explained all of this instead of letting me think—"

"I know." He reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away. When I didn't, his hand cupped my face. "I'm sorry. I should've told you sooner. I just... I didn't want you to feel trapped. Didn't want you to think I'd engineered this whole situation to control you."

"Didn't you though?"

"No." His thumb brushed my cheekbone. "I engineered it to save you. There's a difference."

I should've pulled away. Should've been angry.

But standing there, his hand warm against my face, I realized something.

I believed him.

"The baby..." I swallowed hard. "She's really yours. Biologically. Not just on paper."

"She's ours," he corrected. "Biology made her mine. But you're the one carrying her. Protecting her. Loving her already. That makes her ours."

Tears burned my eyes. Damn pregnancy hormones.

"I don't know how to process this."

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

A laugh bubbled up—slightly hysterical. "This is insane. This whole situation is completely insane."

"Welcome to my life." A ghost of a smile touched his lips.

I pulled back, needing space to think. Paced to the window. Manhattan glittered below us—millions of lights, millions of lives, and somehow mine had collided with his in the most impossible way.

"Natasha," I said finally. "She doesn't know, does she? About the sample mix-up?"

"No. She thinks the clinic destroyed my sample like I ordered. She has no idea you ended up with it."

"And Damien?"

"Has no clue the baby isn't biologically his. He thinks you conceived naturally during your marriage."

I turned to face him. "So what now?"

"Now?" Calloway crossed his arms. "Now we do exactly what we've been doing. Play the happy couple. Prepare for our daughter. Let everyone believe the story we've built."

"And Natasha? She's not going to stop."

"No, she's not." His expression darkened. "Which is why I've hired additional security. Starting tomorrow, you don't go anywhere without at least two bodyguards."

"Calloway—"

"Non-negotiable, Elena. She faked a fall to frame you for assault. She doctored photos for the baby shower. She's escalating." He moved closer. "And now that she's teaming up with Damien, things are going to get worse before they get better."

A chill ran down my spine. "How do you know about Damien?"

"My head of security picked up chatter. Phone calls between them. We don't have proof of conspiracy yet, but it's coming." His jaw set. "They want to destroy us. Both of us. And they'll use our daughter to do it if we let them."

My hand moved protectively to my belly. "They won't touch her."

"No." His voice turned steel. "They won't. Because I won't let them get within a mile of either of you."

The fierceness in his tone sent heat through me. This wasn't the cold businessman who'd shown up at my door three weeks ago. This was something raw. Protective. Real.

"You really meant it," I said softly. "At the party. The proposal."

"Every word."

"You want to marry me. Actually marry me. Not just the contract."

"Yes."

"Why?"

He was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Because somewhere between watching you destroy Damien at that party and watching you fall asleep reading baby books on the couch, I stopped seeing this as a business arrangement." He stepped closer. "You're brave, Elena. And strong. And so damn resilient it terrifies me. You died in another timeline and came back fighting. That's... that's not someone I can just walk away from."

My breath caught. "You... believe me? About the time loop?"

"I believe you've been through something traumatic that gave you knowledge you shouldn't have. Whether it's time travel or premonition or something else—" He shrugged. "I believe you. And I believe you're here for a reason."

Tears spilled over. I couldn't stop them.

"Hey." His hands framed my face, thumbs wiping away the tears. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Everything." I laughed through the crying. "I died. I came back. I found out my baby isn't even my ex-husband's. I'm living with a man I barely know who apparently planned this whole thing. And somehow, despite all of that—" My voice broke. "I feel safer than I've felt in years."

Something shifted in his expression. Softened.

"Good," he murmured. "Because you are safe. I promise you that."

He pulled me into his arms—carefully, mindful of my belly. I let myself lean into him, let myself take the comfort he was offering.

This was insane. All of it.

But maybe insane was exactly what I needed.

"Calloway?"

"Mm?"

"Thank you. For telling me the truth. Finally."

His arms tightened slightly. "You're welcome."

We stood like that for a while—me in his arms, him holding me like I might break. The baby kicked between us, strong and insistent.

Calloway pulled back, looked down at my belly with wonder. "She's active tonight."

"She knows her father's voice."

His eyes met mine. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I took his hand, placed it where the baby was kicking. "See? She responds to you."

He was quiet, feeling the movements beneath his palm. When he looked up, there was something vulnerable in his expression.

"I won't let anything happen to either of you. You know that, right?"

"I know."

"And if this—us—becomes real. If we actually do this, get married for real, build a life together..." He hesitated. "I need you to know I'm all in. Completely. No halfway."

My heart hammered. "Is that what you want? For this to be real?"

"I want you to have a choice. A real one, not one made under duress." His thumb traced circles on my belly where the baby kicked. "So I'm asking. When you're ready, when you feel safe enough, when you know me well enough—" His eyes held mine. "Would you consider making this real?"

The question hung between us.

A month ago, I would've laughed at the absurdity.

Two weeks ago, I would've said no immediately.

But now, standing in his study with his hand on my belly and his eyes searching mine...

"Ask me again," I whispered. "In a few months. When I'm not terrified and pregnant and running for my life. Ask me when things are calm. When I can think clearly."

"And you'll give me a real answer?"

"I'll give you a real answer."

He smiled—genuine, warm. "Deal."

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, glanced at the screen.

Unknown number. Again.

My blood went cold.

"Cute baby shower. Shame about the DNA results. But don't worry—I'll make sure that baby never takes her first breath. Enjoy your time with her while you can. —N"

The phone fell from my shaking hands.

Calloway caught it, read the message. His expression went deadly...