4. Head on

Destiny POV

The words hung in the air like a death sentence: You’re pregnant. William Serrano’s voice echoed in my head, each syllable a hammer striking the fragile pieces of my already shattered world.

Pregnant. Me.

Carrying Ronan’s child, right when he’d kicked me to the curb like I was nothing more than a used tissue. My knees buckled, and before I knew it, I was shoving William’s arms away, tears streaming down my face as I stumbled out of his fancy Upper East Side townhouse.

I didn’t care that my heels were slipping on the polished hardwood or that the cold Manhattan air bit at my bare arms. I just wanted to disappear, to vanish into the city’s chaos and let it swallow me whole.

I wandered the streets, my red satin dress still stained with dirt from last night’s accident, the Band-Aid on my forehead itching like a reminder of my humiliation. The Upper East Side loomed around me—townhouses lined up like stone sentinels, their windows reflecting the golden glow of the afternoon sun. I could feel the weight of those buildings, the weight of this city, pressing down on me.

My life was a mess, a goddamn disaster. Ronan, the man I’d given everything for—my heart, my years, my secrets—had tossed me aside for that blonde tramp, Andrea Watson. And now, a baby?

I pressed a hand to my stomach, half-expecting to feel something, anything, but there was just this hollow ache. I wanted to scream, to curse the universe, but all I could do was cry, the sobs ripping out of me as I staggered through the streets.

I had nowhere to go. My apartment—the one I’d shared with Ronan—was no longer mine. He’d made that clear, terminating the lease like he was erasing me from his life. My friends? I hadn’t kept in touch with them, not after I’d poured every ounce of myself into Ronan’s recovery and career.

My pride stung at the thought, but there was only one place left: my father’s house. The Morgan family townhouse on East 67th Street, a fortress of limestone and glass I’d sworn I’d never return to.

But here I was, broken, pregnant, and out of options. I’d defied my father, Lowell Morgan, when I married Ronan, cutting ties with his empire and his rules. Now, I had to crawl back, tail between my legs, and beg for forgiveness.

The cab ride to the townhouse was a blur. I stared out the window, watching the city’s lights flicker like distant stars, my mind replaying every moment of betrayal. Ronan’s voice on the phone, cold and final: Don’t come looking for me. Andrea’s smug look as she clung to his arm.

And William—God, why did he have to keep showing up, with those dark, soul-piercing eyes? I hated how he’d seen me at my lowest, sobbing like a pathetic mess. I hated that he knew I was pregnant before I did. How the hell did he even know? The hospital must’ve told him, but the thought of him carrying that secret made my skin crawl.

When the cab pulled up to the townhouse, I almost didn’t get out. The five-story mansion loomed over me, its glass and stone facade gleaming under the streetlights. It screamed wealth, power, everything I’d run from.

But I had no choice. I climbed the steps, my heart pounding, and rang the bell. The door opened, revealing a butler in a crisp suit, his face impassive. “Miss Morgan,” he said, stepping aside. Of course, they still knew me here, even after all these years.

My father was in his study, a cavernous room lined with mahogany bookshelves and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Central Park skyline. Lowell Morgan, the untouchable magnate of Morgan & Associates, sat behind a massive desk, his silver hair catching the light of a crystal chandelier.

He didn’t look up from his papers when I walked in, but I could feel the weight of his presence, the same suffocating authority that had driven me away.

“Destiny,” he said finally, his voice cold as steel. “To what do I owe this… unexpected visit?”

I swallowed, my throat dry. “Dad, I…” The words caught, and I hated how small I sounded. “I’m sorry. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left like that, shouldn’t have defied you. I… I need you.”

His eyes flicked up, sharp and unyielding, studying me like I was a contract to be dissected. I braced myself for a lecture, for the same old “I told you so” he’d always thrown at me. But then, something softened in his face. He stood, rounded the desk, and before I could process it, he pulled me into a hug. It was stiff at first, like he’d forgotten how to do it, but it was real.

“You’re my daughter,” he said, his voice low. “No matter what, this is your home. I’ll always take you back.” He pulled away, his hands on my shoulders, and his eyes narrowed as he noticed the Band-Aid, the stained dress. “What happened to you?”

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. The tears came again, hot and unstoppable. “Ronan… he left me. He’s with someone else. And… and I’m pregnant.” The last word broke me, and I buried my face in my hands, sobbing.

Lowell’s jaw tightened, a flash of rage crossing his face. “That bastard. I’ll ruin him, Destiny. I’ll make sure Ronan Foley regrets ever crossing a Morgan. You and that child will be taken care of, I swear it.”

“No,” I said, wiping my eyes, my voice hardening. “Don’t touch him, Dad. Ronan’s mine to deal with. I’ll make him pay myself.”

He looked at me, a flicker of pride in his eyes, like he saw the old Destiny—the one who’d once been fearless—starting to claw her way back. “Very well,” he said. “But you’re staying here. You and my grandchild.”

I nodded, too exhausted to argue. For the first time in years, I felt a sliver of safety, even if it came with the weight of my father’s world.

---

Later that day, I was still reeling when the study door opened again. I turned, expecting another lecture, but instead, there was William Serrano, striding in like he owned the place.

My stomach dropped. What the hell was he doing here? He was dressed sharper now, a tailored blazer over a crisp shirt, but that same damn smile played on his lips, the one that made me want to punch him and trust him at the same time.

“William Serrano,” my father said, standing. “Perfect timing. I’d like you to meet my daughter, Destiny Morgan. My prodigal daughter, returned home at last.” He gestured to me, oblivious to the fact that William and I had already met—hell, I’d woken up in his bed this morning. My cheeks burned at the memory, but I kept my face neutral.

William extended his hand, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. “Miss Morgan,” he said, his Italian accent rolling over the words. “A pleasure to meet you… formally.” His grip was firm, and I could feel the weight of our shared secret in his gaze.

I shook his hand, forcing a smile. “Likewise,” I muttered, hoping my father didn’t notice the tension. So, William was a business partner of my dad’s? Of course he was. This city was too small for coincidences like that. The awkwardness hung thick in the air, but thankfully, Lowell was too busy pontificating about some deal to notice.

“Serrano’s been instrumental in expanding Morgan & Associates overseas,” my father said, oblivious. “He’s a good man to have on our side.”

I nodded, barely listening, my mind racing. William knew about my accident, my meltdown, my pregnancy. And now he was standing here, shaking my hand like we were strangers, smirking like he was in on some private joke. I wanted to hate him, but there was something disarming about that smile, something that made me feel… seen.

---

That evening, I stood on the terrace of the townhouse, the city sprawling below me, a glittering maze of lights and shadows. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of autumn leaves from Central Park. I rested a hand on my stomach, still processing the idea of a baby—Ronan’s baby.

My heart twisted at the thought of him, of the years I’d spent loving him, fighting for him, only to be discarded like trash. The pain was raw, but beneath it, something else was stirring—anger, fierce and unyielding.

I slipped the wedding ring off my finger, the metal cold against my skin. I held it up, watching it catch the light, then closed my fist around it. “I’m done with you, Ronan,” I whispered to the night. “This baby deserves better. I deserve better. And I swear, I’ll fight for us both.”

Footsteps broke my thoughts, and I turned to see William stepping onto the terrace, his hands in his pockets, that same easy confidence in his stride. He leaned against the railing beside me, close enough that I could smell his cologne again—woody, warm, grounding. For a moment, we just stood there, the city humming below us.

“Thanks,” I said finally, my voice quieter than I meant. “For not telling my dad about… everything. The accident, the crying, all that mess you saw.”

William chuckled, low and soft. “What kind of man would I be if I aired your dirty laundry?” He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at me. “You don’t have to go through this alone, Destiny. I know we got off to a rough start—me hitting you with my car and all—but I like you. You’re… different. If you’ll let me, I’d like to be your ally. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

His hand brushed mine on the railing, a gentle caress that sent a shiver through me. I should’ve pulled away, should’ve told him to back off like I had this morning. But I didn’t. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a spark of something—hope, maybe, or trust. I looked into his dark eyes, and for a moment, I let myself believe him.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Inside, I was grateful, more than I could say. In this moment, with my life in ruins and a baby on the way, I needed an ally like William Serrano. And maybe, just maybe, I was ready to start fighting again.