Chapter Two

Mira’s P.O.V

“I want my child. And I want you to come with me.”

The words hung between us, cold and sharp.

I blinked, stunned, searching for something in his expression remorse, nerves, anything but found none. Luca De Silva stood in front of me like this was another corporate takeover. Calm. Strategic. Unshakable.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I whispered, my throat tightening.

“You’re pregnant with my child,” he said, stepping closer. “You don’t think I deserve a say in that?”

“You left,” I snapped. “You disappeared. You didn’t even ask for my name.”

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said, voice low. “But now I have. And I can’t walk away knowing my child exists.”

His tone wasn’t pleading. It was final.

I glanced around. People were starting to stare. My office building’s glass doors reflected our silhouettes. Two strangers locked in a quiet war.

“Not here,” I muttered. “Please.”

“Then let’s talk somewhere private.”

I hesitated. My gut screamed no, but something in me also whispered... what if he was serious? What if he wasn’t here just to control things but actually wanted to take responsibility?

“Fine. Ten minutes.”

We sat across from each other in a nearby café, tucked into a quiet corner.

The silence stretched. He watched me carefully, but I avoided his eyes.

“How did you even find me?” I asked.

“Your friend,” he said. “Denise, right?”

I stiffened. “You talked to her?”

“She didn’t say much,” he admitted. “Just enough.”

I made a mental note to scream at Denise later.

“I don’t know what you expect, Luca,” I said finally. “This isn’t a business deal. It’s not something you can fix with money.”

“I know,” he said, then leaned in. “But I don’t want to buy you. I want to help you. I want to be in our child’s life.”

The word our felt strange. Unreal.

“You say that now,” I said bitterly. “But when it gets hard? When it’s 3AM and the baby won’t stop crying? You’ll leave.”

“I won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

He looked at me then, something raw flickering in his eyes.

“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t know how to be a father. I never had a real one. But I want to try.”

That stopped me.

He continued, more quietly this time. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. But this us this child… maybe this is the one thing I can get right.”

A part of me wanted to believe him. But I had spent my entire life being told what to do, who to be, how to act. And here he was, asking me to trust him with everything.

“You can’t just show up and expect me to drop everything,” I said.

“I’m not expecting that,” he said. “I’m offering something better.”

“What exactly are you offering?”

“Come with me,” he said. “Let me take care of you. We’ll go somewhere quiet. Just for a while. You won’t have to hide your pregnancy. We’ll figure things out. Together.”

I stared at him.

“This sounds like a trap.”

He chuckled softly. “It’s not. You can leave any time you want. I won’t stop you. But at least give me a chance to be part of this.”

I looked down at my hands, resting on the warm ceramic of my untouched coffee.

This wasn’t just about me anymore. It was about the tiny life growing inside me.

“I need time,” I said finally.

“You have it,” he said. “But not forever. I’m not disappearing again.”

For the next few days, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Luca.

Everything about him unsettled me. The way he appeared out of nowhere. The way he spoke with such certainty. The way he looked at me like I was more than a mistake.

Denise practically exploded when I told her.

“You met up with him? Mira, are you serious?”

“I had to. He found me. What was I supposed to do?”

“Tell him to back off? You barely know him!”

I sighed, pacing my apartment. “I know. But he didn’t seem like he just wanted to control me. He… I don’t know, Denise. He felt genuine.”

“Luca De Silva doesn’t do genuine,” she said flatly.

I flinched.

She softened. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Too late,” I said quietly.

A week later, I agreed to meet him again.

He picked me up in a black car, driver in front, windows tinted. I almost turned around twice, but something kept me moving forward.

“You look nervous,” he said as I slid into the seat beside him.

“Because I am.”

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he handed me a folder.

“What’s this?” I asked, opening it.

“A house,” he said. “In Tagaytay. Quiet. Private. Beautiful view of the lake. We can stay there for a while. Just until you feel ready to go back to the city.”

I stared at the photos. It looked like a dream.

“And you think I’ll just move in with you?”

“Not with me,” he said. “It’s yours. I won’t stay unless you ask me to.”

He was giving me a way out and a way forward at the same time.

It terrified me.

The house was everything he said and more.

Wide windows, white curtains, a wraparound porch. The kind of place you see in movies. Safe. Serene.

The first few nights, I barely slept. I kept waiting for someone to tell me it was a lie. That he was a lie.

But Luca never pressured me. He brought groceries, books, even a piano. He’d show up some mornings, sit on the porch, and just… be there.

One afternoon, I found him in the kitchen trying to make soup.

“What are you doing?” I asked, laughing.

“I Googled ‘pregnancy meals.’ This one said ginger is good for nausea.”

I shook my head. “That’s sweet. And a little ridiculous.”

He smiled. “I’m learning.”

And maybe, so was I.

A month passed.

My belly started to round slightly. My cravings kicked in. The baby moved for the first time.

Luca was there for all of it.

He never pushed. Never asked for more than I could give.

And that’s how I started to fall for him.

Not all at once. Not in a fairytale way.

But slowly, in quiet moments.

Like the way he placed his hand gently over my stomach without saying a word. Or how he watched old cartoons with me when I was moody. Or how he talked to the baby like it could already hear him.

One night, after a particularly emotional day, I found him sitting alone in the garden.

“Can’t sleep?” I asked.

He looked up. “Just thinking.”

I sat beside him.

“What about?”

He hesitated. “What kind of father I’ll be.”

I looked at him carefully. “What kind of father do you want to be?”

“The kind I never had.”

Silence.

“You’re doing okay so far,” I said, resting my hand over his.

Our fingers laced.

It wasn’t just about the baby anymore.

The next morning, everything changed.

A knock on the door.

Then another.

Luca opened it and immediately pulled me back.

Cameras. Flashing lights. Voices yelling questions.

Paparazzi.

“Is it true you’re hiding a secret baby?”

“Who’s the woman?”

“Luca, are you in a relationship?”

I froze.

“How did they find us?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer.

He looked furious.

“They followed me,” he muttered. “I didn’t think they would.”

My heart sank.

I had been so careful. So private. And now this.

“What do we do?”

Luca’s jaw tightened. “There’s only one thing we can do.”

“What?”

He turned to me slowly.

“Marry me.”

I stared at him, shocked. “What?”

“It’s the only way to protect you. And the baby. From the media. From my world. From everything.”

“You said this wasn’t a business deal.”

“It’s not,” he said. “But if they’re going to tear into us anyway we might as well be prepared.”

I stepped back. “You don’t love me.”

“I care about you,” he said. “Isn’t that a start?”

Tears welled in my eyes.

This was too fast. Too much. Too real.

And yet, deep down… I wasn’t sure I wanted to say no.