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LOGINLISA’S POV:
His lips hovered dangerously close to mine, the tension thick in the air, a strange mix of fear and confusion clouding my senses. My breath came in shallow gasps as I struggled to find words, any words, to stop this, but they wouldn’t come. I was trapped, caught in the magnetic pull of his cold, commanding gaze, unable to tear myself away. Then, as if sensing my hesitation, he pulled back, just enough to give me space to breathe but not enough to let me go. His grip on my waist loosened, and I felt his fingers trail down my side, sending an unwelcome shiver through me. My mind was racing, trying to make sense of what was happening, of who he was and why I was here, in his arms, with his eyes boring into me like I was some puzzle he wanted to solve. Before I could piece together a single coherent thought, his voice sliced through the air again, that same low, icy tone that made my stomach clench. “You’re not the person I was expecting,” he said, his voice devoid of warmth, but there was a strange flicker in his eyes now, something almost… curious. “But you’re here now.” I swallowed hard, my throat dry, the words stuck like lead in my mouth. I wanted to explain, to tell him this was all some sort of mistake, that I didn’t belong here, that I didn’t even know how I’d ended up in this building, let alone in his presence. But nothing came out. My mind was still reeling from the shock of it all. He let out a low, almost imperceptible sigh and then, as if he’d made some decision, his hand left my waist and he took a step back, surveying me with those same cold, calculating eyes. For a second, I thought he was going to leave, that whatever he’d planned was over. But then, he spoke again. “You look… desperate,” he said, his voice softening slightly, though his words carried a weight that made my skin prickle. He took a step closer, not as aggressive this time, but purposeful. “What’s your price?” I blinked, not understanding at first, my brain slow to process what he was asking. “What?” I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper. He looked me over, his gaze moving slowly from my legs, still exposed from where my oversized sweater had ridden up, to my face. “How much?” he repeated, his tone matter-of-fact, like he was discussing a business deal. “To spend the night with me.” I froze. My mind went blank, completely blank. Did I hear him right? Was he… offering to pay me to sleep with him? The room seemed to tilt for a moment, the walls closing in as the realization sunk in. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest. He must have seen the shock on my face because he took another step back, giving me space. “Six thousand dollars,” he said, his voice smooth, calm, as if the amount was nothing to him. “For one night.” I stared at him, speechless. Six thousand dollars. The number echoed in my head, bouncing around like a taunt. My mind started to race again, faster this time, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions crashing into each other. Who was this man? Why was he offering me this? And more importantly… why was I even considering it? I’d never done anything like this before. Never even thought about it. But then again, everything was different now. My life had spiraled out of control. The heartbreak, the betrayal… Nathan. My chest tightened at the thought of him. We’d been together for over a year, but in all that time, I’d never given him everything. I’d never kissed him, never let it get too far. I always thought it was because I was saving myself for something more, something real. But now? Now it all felt like a cruel joke. Nathan was gone. He’d left me. I wasn’t good enough for him, wasn’t what he wanted. He never said it outright, but I knew. I’d always known. That’s why he was with her now, why he chose someone else. I was the one who’d been too careful, too cautious. And look where it got me. I was alone. I looked back at the man in front of me. His eyes were unreadable, cold, and distant, but he was offering me something. An escape, maybe? A way out of this pit of despair I’d been drowning in for weeks. Six thousand dollars. It wouldn’t fix everything, but it would help. Maybe it would help me start over, help me move on from Nathan, from the life I thought I had. But still… I hesitated. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t the kind of person who did things like this, who sold themselves for money. But then again, what kind of person was I now? I wasn’t even sure anymore. Everything I thought I knew about myself had crumbled the moment Nathan walked out of my life. I was lost, broken, and maybe, just maybe, this was a way to reclaim some control. A way to feel something, anything, other than the crushing emptiness that had consumed me for so long. My thoughts raced as I weighed the decision. I could walk away right now, leave this strange, intimidating man and his offer behind. Or I could stay. I could take the money, spend the night with him, and maybe for a brief moment, forget about all the pain, all the heartache that had been tearing me apart. I took a deep breath, my hands trembling. My voice was barely audible when I finally spoke. “Six thousand dollars?” I repeated, still not quite believing what was happening. He nodded, his expression unchanged. “Six thousand,” he confirmed, as if it was no big deal, like he could easily double or triple the offer if he wanted to. I looked down at my feet, trying to steady myself. I felt numb, detached, like I was floating outside my own body. And then, before I could stop myself, I whispered, “Okay.” It was done. The room seemed to shift, the air growing heavier around me as the weight of my decision settled in. He didn’t react right away. Instead, he took a step closer, closing the gap between us once more. His hand slid to the small of my back, pulling me gently but firmly toward him. I was trembling, but I didn’t resist. I couldn’t. Something inside me had snapped, given way to a strange, dangerous sense of surrender. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be, I thought. Maybe this was the only way to let go of everything, to finally feel free. His lips were close to mine again, closer than before, and this time, I didn’t pull away.
If anyone tells you pregnancy is a beautiful, glowing, ethereal experience, they’re either lying or trying to sell you something. At eight and a half months, I’ve reached the stage where standing up feels like a strategic military operation, and my ankles have officially gone AWOL.I catch my reflection in the cottage mirror and wince.“Good Lord,” I mutter to myself. “Who let a beach ball wear my pajamas?”The baby kicks in response, and I swear it feels personal.“Oh, don’t you start,” I say, patting my belly as I shuffle toward the kitchen. “You’re the one who’s been using my bladder as a trampoline.”I’ve developed a weirdly affectionate habit of narrating everything out loud. It’s probably because I live alone, and if I don’t talk to myself or the baby, the silence gets a lIttle too loud. Claire says it’s adorable. I say it’s proof I’m two decaf coffees away from going completely feral.Speaking of Claire, she’s due any minute. She’s bringing groceries and something called “labor
The rain hasn’t stopped for hours. It trickles down the windows in lazy lines, blurring the world beyond the glass like a watercolor in motion. I sit curled up on the couch, a soft gray blanket draped around my shoulders, one hand resting on the curve of my belly. Six months. Just three months left, and everything changes.Again.I run my fingers across the little blue hat I knitted last night, its yarn still holding the warmth of my touch. It’s lopsided and imperfect, but I love it anyway. It’s his first. A tiny promise that I’ll be enough, even if I’m the only one he knows. Even if he never knows who his father is. I want to raise him with so much love.Enough love to soften the absence. Enough to make him whole.I close my eyes for a moment, letting the warmth from the fireplace soak into my skin. The logs crackle softly, the flames casting golden shadows on the floorboards. The baby kicks again, stronger this time, and I press a hand there instinctively.“Hey, little one,” I whis
The rain hasn’t stopped for hours. It trickles down the windows in lazy lines, blurring the world beyond the glass like a watercolor in motion. I sit curled up on the couch, a soft gray blanket draped around my shoulders, one hand resting on the curve of my belly. Six months. Just three months left, and everything changes.Again.I run my fingers across the little blue hat I knitted last night, its yarn still holding the warmth of my touch. It’s lopsided and imperfect, but I love it anyway. It’s his first. A tiny promise that I’ll be enough, even if I’m the only one he knows. Even if he never knows who his father is. I want to raise him with so much love.Enough love to soften the absence. Enough to make him whole.I close my eyes for a moment, letting the warmth from the fireplace soak into my skin. The logs crackle softly, the flames casting golden shadows on the floorboards. The baby kicks again, stronger this time, and I press a hand there instinctively.“Hey, little one,” I whis
The knock on the door snapped me out of my thoughts. My heart leaped into my throat as I stared at the door, suddenly unsure of who or what I was expecting. I wasn’t used to visitors. No one ever came here, and that was exactly how I liked it.I stood up slowly, wiping the tear tracks from my cheeks. I didn’t want to open it, not with the swirl of emotions still tightening around my chest. I wasn’t ready to face anyone, but I couldn’t ignore the persistent knock.My hand hesitated on the doorknob. It could be a delivery. Or a neighbor. But deep down, I felt this wasn’t just a random visit.I opened the door cautiously, just a crack at first. When I saw who was standing there, my heart froze.It was Nathan.Nathan—the man I thought I’d marry one day. The man who had shattered my world when I found him in bed with Bella. He was the last person I wanted to see, yet here he was, standing on my doorstep with that same cocky grin that used to make my heart flutter but now only made me sick.
My life had settled into an unexpected calm ever since I arrived in California. There was a peacefulness here, an anonymity that soothed my frayed nerves. No one knew me, no one asked questions, and I was grateful for it. I spent most days working quietly on a business I’d started with the money I had gotten from that night—the night I wanted so desperately to forget. The investment I made had turned out better than I could have hoped, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was no drama, no heartbreak. Just me, my work, and the slow rhythm of days blending together.But then, the nausea started.At first, I thought it was stress or maybe something I ate. But the queasiness became more frequent, then constant. Every morning, like clockwork, I’d wake up feeling sick to my stomach, unable to keep anything down. I dismissed it for weeks, chalking it up to anxiety or the toll of running a business on my own. But when the dizziness started, along with fatigue that left me e
LISA’S POV:I woke up feeling an intense pain coursing through my body, my muscles sore and aching from the night before. The throbbing in my lower body was particularly sharp, and as I shifted under the sheets, the memories of last night began to creep back into my mind, each one sending a wave of nausea through me.I turned my head slowly and saw him lying next to me, the man from last night. His broad chest rose and fell steadily with each breath, his dark hair still slightly damp from the shower he must’ve taken before falling asleep. He looked peaceful, almost serene, as if the events of last night hadn’t impacted him at all. But for me… everything had changed.The flashbacks came in fragments at first. His cold, detached offer. My hesitation. The pain of his touch, the pressure of his body against mine. I had been so numb last night, emotionally deadened by everything that had happened with Nathan. But now, in the pale morning light, I felt everything. The shame, the guilt, the








