CHAPTER 2

SIENNA BLAKE

When the heavy fog of alcohol and exhaustion finally cleared, my eyelids felt like lead. I shifted against the silk sheets, a sharp ache radiating through my entire body. The scent of cedarwood and high-end cologne filled my senses, violently dragging the memories of last night back into my brain.

The heat. The deep, commanding voice. The desperate, breathless touch of a man whose face I barely saw.

Panic surged through me. I bolted upright, gripping the blanket tightly against my bare chest. The room was bathed in the dim light of dawn, luxurious and massive, but empty. The man from last night was gone, leaving only the rumpled sheets beside me. Shame, hot and suffocating, washed over me. I didn't know him. I didn't even know his name. I had let my heartbreak and anger drive me straight into a stranger's bed.

Gathering my torn clothes from the floor, I dressed as fast as my trembling hands allowed. I didn't want to be here when he came back. I couldn't bear the thought of a cold, transactional goodbye, or worse, him thinking I was some escort he could just pay off. I sneaked out of the VIP suite like a thief in the night, swearing to myself that I would bury this mistake forever.

But life had a cruel way of making sure mistakes never stayed buried.

One month later, I sat on the cold floor of my tiny apartment bathroom, staring at three identical plastic sticks resting on the sink. Three positive results.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I couldn't breathe. I rushed to a free clinic downtown, desperate for a doctor to tell me the drugstore tests were wrong. Instead, the middle-aged OB-GYN stared at the ultrasound screen, her eyes widening in utter disbelief.

"Well, Sienna," she said, turning the monitor toward me. "It’s not a mistake. You’re pregnant. And it’s not just one baby. Look here. One, two, three. You’re having triplets."

The room spun. Triplets. Three babies from a single night of reckless despair.

Before I could even process the weight of the news, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my father, demanding I come home immediately. When I stepped into the family living room, I didn't find comfort. I found Tristan and Chloe sitting on the couch next to my parents, looking smug.

"Is it true?" my father roared, throwing a medical report onto the coffee table. He had used his connections to check my recent clinic visits. "You're pregnant? The wedding was called off because you ran away, and now you’re carrying some bastard’s child?"

"Dad, listen to me—"

"Don't call me that!" he shouted, his face turning a furious purple. "Tristan told us everything. He said you were the one cheating on him, that you ruined the family’s reputation and his company’s stocks out of spite! And now you bring this filth into our house?"

I looked at Chloe, who was leaning against Tristan, a triumphant smirk plastered on her face. Tristan just stared at me with cold indifference. They had flipped the narrative perfectly. I was the villain now.

"I didn't cheat," I whispered, tears blurring my vision. "Tristan and Chloe were the ones—"

"Enough!" my mother cut in, her voice dripping with disgust. "We won't let your loose morals ruin this family. Pack your things and get out. You are no longer a daughter of this house."

Within an hour, I was thrown onto the rainy streets with nothing but a single suitcase and a few dollars left in my bank account. I sat at a lonely bus station, clutching my stomach as the cold wind bit through my jacket. I was at the absolute bottom. Homeless, betrayed, and pregnant with three children.

I pulled out my phone, staring at the blurred photo I had snapped of the monogrammed cufflink I found on the VIP room floor the morning after. It bore the initials A.C.

Out of sheer desperation, I looked up the initials online, trying to find any prominent figure who frequented The Velvet Room. It didn't take long. The internet was flooded with articles about Adrian Cole—a brilliant billionaire chief surgeon and the sole heir to the massive Cole Medical Empire. The photos showed a man with a sharp, lethal jawline and piercing eyes. It was him. The man from the dark room.

A tiny spark of hope flared in my chest. Maybe if I told him... maybe if he knew...

But before I could even find a contact number, a breaking news alert popped up on my screen.

“Billionaire Doctor Adrian Cole Announces Engagement to Shipping Heiress. A Match Arranged by the Cole Patriarch to Solidify the Empire.”

The text below explained that Adrian Cole was bound to a strict family contract. Any scandal, any illegitimate child, would strip him of his inheritance and destroy the empire his family built.

The spark of hope died instantly, replaced by a cold, protective instinct. If I approached him, his powerful family would see me as a gold-digging extortionist. They would either force me to abort my babies or sue me, take them away, and raise them in a cold, ruthless world of corporate politics.

I couldn't let that happen. These babies were all I had left.

I stood up, wiping the tears from my face, and bought a one-way ticket to a small, distant town hours away from the city. I changed my number, deleted my social media, and vanished into the night, determined to protect my children from the billionaires who owned the world.