Ch-3

April 26, 2016

Pacific Grand Hospital.  

10:15 AM 

For six years, Adina King-Harrington had dreamed of this moment. Prayed. Begged. Cried. Clawed at hope even when it felt impossible.

And now—finally—it was here.

She was pregnant.

Her hands trembled as she clutched the test results, her breath unsteady.

A lump formed in her throat, thick and overwhelming, as tears burned the back of her eyes.

A shaky laugh bubbled from her lips as she turned to her husband, Eric Harrington, “I told you,” she whispered, her voice breathless, her eyes gleaming.

For the first time since the IVF procedure, Eric smiled—a real smile, wide and unguarded.

It had taken his mother’s relentless insistence to push him into this process, but now, seeing the proof before him, a wave of relief crashed over him.

“You did,” he murmured. His usually stiff posture eased as his hand lifted hesitantly, hovering just above her stomach. Then, slowly, he let himself touch it.

It was tentative at first, as if he didn’t quite believe it. But when he felt the warmth of her skin beneath his palm, his fingers pressed more firmly, smoothing over the place where their child was growing.

“We’re finally going to have our baby.” He added.

Adina nodded quickly, laughing through the tears she hadn’t even realized had started falling. “Finally.”

A throat cleared.

The sound barely registered at first, drowned out by the joy in the room. But when it came again—hesitant, uneasy—Adina’s smile faltered.

She turned her head.

Dr. Perry Osborne, an older man with a long-standing reputation as one of the best in his field, sat across from them, hands clasped over the folder in front of him.

He wasn’t smiling.

A chill trickled down her spine, her joy slipping through her fingers like sand.

Eric’s hand on her stomach stilled, his brows furrowed. “Is there a problem, Doctor?”

Dr. Perry hesitated. His fingers curled around the folder’s edges, knuckles turning white.

“Mr and Mrs. Harrington,” he began carefully, “I’m afraid there was… a small complication during your insemination.”

The warmth in the room completely vanished now.

Adina’s breath hitched. A dull, creeping panic twisted in her gut.

“A complication?” Her voice trembled. “What complication? I’m pregnant, aren’t I? You called us in to give us good news, so what—what are you talking about?”

Dr. Perry exhaled slowly, lowering his gaze. “You’re going to be a mother, Mrs. Harrington... But…” He hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. “…not of Mr. Harrington.”

Silence.

The kind that suffocates.

Adina’s heart slammed against her ribs. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Beside her, Eric sat frozen, stone-still.

Then he spoke.

His voice was low and calm. “…What?”

Dr. Perry swallowed, looking as if he wished he could disappear. “I mean…Mr. Harrington…the baby your wife is carrying is not…yours. We’re really sorry it happened.”

The words hit Eric like a wrecking ball.

His fingers curled into fists. His jaw tightened. But his voice—low, eerily controlled—didn’t waver.

“Are you telling me,” he said, each word measured, “that after everything—the months, the tests, the procedures—this baby isn’t mine?”

The calmness in his tone was unsettling. The kind that came before a storm.

Dr. Perry swallowed, adjusting his tie. “There was a mix-up at the lab. The wrong sperm sample was used—”

Eric shot to his feet, the suddenness sending his chair scraping against the tile floor—a sharp, jarring sound, like a whip crack.

“A mix-up?!” His voice cut through the air, sharp enough to shatter glass. “Are you seriously telling me my wife is carrying another man’s child?”

“Eric—” Adina reached for him, but he jerked his hand away. His entire body was rigid with fury, his eyes blazing.

“I want a damn explanation,” he seethed. “Now.”

Dr. Perry remained composed, his voice steady and professional. “I understand how upsetting this is—”

“Upsetting?” Eric’s laugh was bitter, humorless. He leaned forward, palms slamming onto the desk. “This isn’t a minor inconvenience, Doctor. This is my wife carrying another man’s child.”

Adina barely heard him.

Her ears were ringing, her pulse pounding so loudly that it drowned out everything else.

Not Eric’s.

Her baby wasn’t Eric’s.

The thought hit her like a freight train.

Her stomach twisted violently as a wave of nausea crashed over her.

“Who?” Her voice came out hoarse. Small.

Eric stopped mid-rant, his head snapping toward her.

Adina swallowed hard, her grip tightening around the test results as she forced herself to meet the doctor’s gaze. Her breathing was uneven, her voice shaking.

“Who is the father?” she asked again, louder this time.

Silence.

A long, unbearable silence.

Then—Eric slammed his fist against the mahogany desk, making both Adina and the doctor flinch. “Answer the freaking question!”

Dr. Perry inhaled deeply. “We’ve already cont-ac-ted the indivi-dual,” he stuttered. “He’s agreed to meet with you both today. We hope you can find common ground.”

Eric’s jaw tightened. “A common ground?” He exhaled a short, humorless chuckle.

“So that’s it? You expect me to sit across from some stranger, shake hands, and calmly discuss my wife carrying his child like this is some goddamn business—”

A knock at the door cut him off.

Adina’s stomach twisted with dread.

The nurse peeked in, her voice soft. “Doctor… he’s here.”

Tension thickened in the room, and Adina felt Eric’s entire body go stiff beside her.

Dr. Perry nodded. “Bring him in.”

The next few seconds stretched too long.

Then—the door swung open.

And he walked in.

Ryan Knight.

Adina’s breath caught, her world tilting on its axis.

The air shifted instantly, as if the room itself braced for impact.

He walked in with effortless confidence, the kind that sucked the oxygen right out of the space. 

His hazel eyes swept over the room, taking everything in—Dr. Perry’s stiff posture. Eric’s murderous glare. The undeniable tension hanging in the air like a storm ready to break.

Then, finally, his gaze found hers.

Locked. Unwavering.

Recognition flickered. And then—something else. Something sharper.

Adina’s pulse roared in her ears.

It’s been six years since their shared past. Six years since their breakup.

And yet, Ryan Knight hadn’t changed. If anything, time and success had only made him more handsome. The sharp cut of his jaw. The way his tailored suit fit perfectly over his broad shoulders. The aura of control that clung to him like a second skin.

His lips curved into a smirk.

“There she is…” he murmured, his voice as smooth as silk.

His gaze flickered down to her stomach, then back to her face, something unreadable glinting in his eyes.

“…The mother of my child... I guess this is what’s called the irony of life," Ryan said, his voice steady but tinged with amusement.