Chapter Twenty One

Elena 

The walk back to Damien's apartment is silent.

Not the comfortable silence from earlier. This silence is suffocating. Every step feels heavier than the last, weighed down by the positive pregnancy test burning in my purse and the growing distance I can feel radiating from the man beside me.

Sophia left us at the park with a tight hug and whispered encouragement I can't remember now. All I can focus on is Damien's hand in mine—still holding on, but different. Mechanical. Like he's going through motions instead of feeling them.

When we reach The Cartwright, Raymond greets us but Damien barely acknowledges him. In the elevator, the silence becomes unbearable.

"Say something," I finally whisper.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Anything. You haven't spoken since I showed you the test."

"I'm processing."

"For twenty minutes? Damien, talk to me."

The elevator doors open. He walks into his apartment, goes straight to the bar, pours scotch with shaking hands.

"How long have you known?" His voice is flat. Cold.

"Known what?"

"That you were pregnant. How long have you been keeping this from me?"

The accusation stings. "I found out thirty minutes ago. Same time as you."

"But you suspected. You bought a test two weeks ago."

"I bought it when my period was late. Then everything with your mother happened and I forgot about it. I didn't even think—"

"You didn't think?" He spins to face me. "Your period was late and you didn't think to mention it? To take the test? To tell me?"

"We were being blackmailed! Your mother was trying to destroy us! Forgive me for not prioritizing a hypothetical pregnancy over very real threats!"

"Hypothetical." He laughs bitterly. "It's not hypothetical now, is it? It's very real. Very inconvenient. Very—"

"Don't." My voice shakes. "Don't you dare call this baby inconvenient."

"What would you call it, Elena? We've known each other three weeks. Three weeks! We just started dating yesterday. We just got our professional lives back on track. And now this?" He gestures at me like I'm a problem to be solved.

"This is a baby. A life. Not a business complication."

"A life we didn't plan for. Didn't want. A life that—" He stops, drinks his scotch in one swallow. "How do I even know it's mine?"

The words hit like a physical blow. I actually stumble backward.

"What did you just say?"

He has the decency to look away. "We slept together once. Three weeks ago. For all I know, you were with someone else. Before. After."

"Are you serious right now?" My voice is dangerously quiet. "You think I'm lying about this being yours?"

"I think it's convenient timing. Right after I fought for you. Right after my mother tried to get rid of you. Right after I told you I was falling in love with you. And suddenly you're pregnant?"

"You think I planned this? That I trapped you?"

"I think I've been trapped before. By someone who claimed to love me. Who wanted access to my money and my name and my life. And I'm not making that mistake again."

Jasmine. He's comparing me to his ex-fiancée.

"I'm not her," I say through tears I refuse to let fall. "I'm nothing like her."

"Aren't you? Three weeks ago, you were nobody. A marketing consultant I never should have hired. And now you're embedded in my life, pregnant with a baby you claim is mine, looking at me like I'm the villain for asking reasonable questions."

"Reasonable? You're accusing me of lying! Of trapping you! Of—" My voice breaks. "You really think I'm capable of that?"

"I don't know what you're capable of. That's the problem. I don't actually know you, Elena. Not really. I know the version you showed me when you wanted the job. The version who needed saving from my mother. But who are you really? And what do you really want from me?"

Each word is a knife. Precise. Deliberate. Designed to cut.