Chapter 3: The Test

Three weeks later, Sienna stood in the cramped pharmacy aisle staring at the row of pregnancy tests like they were live grenades. Her hands shook as she grabbed the most expensive one—the kind that promised “early detection” and “99% accuracy.” She paid in cash, avoiding the cashier’s eyes, and shoved the box deep into her backpack.

Back in her dorm, she locked the door, turned off her phone, and sat on the edge of the bathtub for what felt like hours before she could make herself pee on the stick.

Two minutes later, she stared at the little window.

Two pink lines.

Clear. Unmistakable.

Her knees buckled. She slid down the wall until she hit the cold tile, hugging her knees to her chest.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”

But the lines didn’t disappear.

She pressed both hands to her stomach, feeling nothing yet—no bump, no flutter, just terror and a strange, quiet protectiveness that surprised her.

“I’m sorry,” she said to the tiny life inside her. “I’m so sorry I’m not ready.”

Tears came fast and hot. She let them fall.

She couldn’t tell her mom. Not yet. Her mom was already working herself to exhaustion; one more worry would break her.

She couldn’t tell Caspian. He’d made it crystal clear: no attachments. And even if he hadn’t—how did you tell a billionaire CEO heir that his one-night stand with an intern resulted in a baby?

She couldn’t tell anyone.

So she did the only thing she could: she went to work the next morning like nothing had changed.

Monday. First official day of the internship.

Sienna arrived at Hale Industries early, badge clipped to her blouse, hair pulled back tight, makeup hiding the dark circles under her eyes. Lena greeted her with a coffee and a grin.

“Ready for social media hell week? We’ve got three campaigns launching.”

Sienna forced a smile. “Bring it.”

The morning passed in a blur of hashtags, analytics dashboards, and team brainstorming. She threw herself into it, grateful for the distraction. Every time her mind drifted to the test burning a hole in her backpack, she refocused harder.

Until 11:47 a.m.

She was in the break room refilling her water bottle when the door opened.

Caspian.

He stepped inside alone, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Sienna froze.

He looked different in daylight—still devastatingly handsome, but the shadows under his eyes suggested he hadn’t slept much either.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said quietly.

She gripped the bottle tighter. “I’ve been busy.”

“You blocked my number. You duck into rooms when you see me in the hallway. You’re a terrible liar, Sienna.”

Her heart hammered. “What do you want, Caspian?”

He took one step closer. “The truth. Why are you pretending last night didn’t happen?”

“Because it can’t happen again.” Her voice cracked. “You’re the heir. I’m the intern. There are rules. Power dynamics. HR nightmares.”

His gaze searched her face. “Is that really why?”

She looked away. “Yes.”

He stepped closer still—close enough she could feel the heat radiating from him. “Look at me.”

She did. Mistake.

His eyes softened—just a fraction. “You’re scared.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“You’re scared of what this could be.”

“There is no ‘this.’” She forced steel into her voice. “It was one night. Done.”

He studied her for a long moment. Then, quietly: “You’re lying again.”

Before she could respond, the break-room door opened. Lena poked her head in.

“Hey, Sienna—meeting in five. You coming?”

Sienna seized the escape. “Yeah. Right now.”

She slipped past Caspian, shoulder brushing his chest, and didn’t look back.

The rest of the week was torture.

Every time she turned a corner, he was there—watching, waiting. Never pushing. Just… present. A constant, quiet pressure she couldn’t shake.

Friday afternoon, she felt the nausea hit again. Hard.

She bolted to the nearest bathroom, barely making it to the stall before she vomited. She clung to the toilet, tears mixing with sweat.

When the wave passed, she rinsed her mouth, splashed water on her face, and stared at her reflection.

She looked pale. Exhausted. Terrified.

She couldn’t keep doing this alone.

That night, she bought prenatal vitamins at a different pharmacy. She cried the whole walk home.

Saturday morning, she woke up determined.

She would tell him. She had to. He deserved to know—even if he rejected it. Even if he hated her. Even if he tried to take the baby away.

She dressed simply—jeans, hoodie—and took the bus to the address she’d found online: Hale Tower’s private executive entrance.

Security stopped her at the gate.

“Name?”

“Sienna Vale. I need to see Caspian Hale.”

The guard raised an eyebrow. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No. But he’ll want to see me.”

The guard made a call. Minutes later, the gate opened.

“Penthouse level. Elevator on the left.”

The ride up felt endless.

When the doors opened, Caspian was waiting—casual in dark jeans and a black sweater, barefoot, hair slightly messy like he’d run his hands through it.

He looked surprised. Then concerned.

“Sienna?”

She stepped out, clutching her bag like a shield.

“We need to talk.”

He nodded once. “Come in.”

The penthouse was even more stunning in daylight—endless windows, minimalist furniture, city sprawling below. He led her to the living area, gestured to the sofa.

She didn’t sit.

“I’m pregnant,” she said, voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “It’s yours.”

Silence.

Caspian stared at her, expression unreadable.

Then he exhaled slowly. “How far?”

“About five weeks.”

He nodded, like he was processing data. “You’re sure?”

“I took three tests. All positive.”

He ran a hand over his face. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

He looked at her—really looked. “What do you want to do?”

She swallowed. “I’m keeping it. I don’t expect anything from you. I just… thought you should know.”

His jaw tightened. “You think I’d walk away?”

“I don’t know what you’d do,” she said honestly. “You said no attachments.”

“That was before.”

“Before what?”

“Before you.”

Her heart stuttered.

He stepped closer. “I’m not letting you do this alone.”

“Caspian—”

“I want a paternity test. For both our sakes.”

She flinched. “You think I’d lie?”

“I think the world is full of people who’d use a child to get to me.” His voice hardened. “I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it.”

She felt the sting. “I’m not them.”

“I know.” He softened again. “But I need proof. For legal reasons. For my sanity.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay. Test. Fine.”

He exhaled. “Thank you.”

Silence stretched.

Then he asked, quietly: “Are you okay?”

She laughed—a broken little sound. “No. I’m terrified.”

He closed the distance, hesitating before gently pulling her into his arms.

She stiffened at first—then melted against him, face pressed to his chest, breathing in cedar and smoke.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into her hair. “We’ll figure this out.”

She wanted to believe him.

But deep down, she knew nothing would ever be simple again.

And the real storm was only beginning.