THE STORM

Ariana’s POV

The glass doors slam open so hard the hostess gasps, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. My pulse is racing like I’ve just sprinted through traffic, but it’s anger, not fear, that fuels me.

I spot him instantly.

Damian Cole.

He’s impossible to miss. Broad shoulders under a perfectly tailored suit, head tipped back in laughter, a glass of red wine in hand. He looks every bit the untouchable billionaire the tabloids paint him to be.

And sitting beside him is her. Vanessa Moore. Blonde, polished, a woman who probably thinks she owns the air in this restaurant.

My stomach twists. I shouldn’t be here. I know I shouldn’t. But the image of that pregnancy test won’t leave me. The two pink lines. The way my hands shook so badly I almost dropped it in the sink.

And now here he is—laughing like my life isn’t in pieces.

“Damian!”

The word rips out of me before I can think.

Dozens of heads turn. Forks clink against plates and freeze. Music from the grand piano in the corner stutters as the pianist falters.

Damian lifts his gaze lazily, then frowns when he sees me storming across the restaurant.

He doesn’t recognize me. The realization stings like salt in a wound.

Good. Let him feel the sting back.

I reach his table in seconds. My hand flies before my brain can catch up.

The sound of my palm smacking against his cheek ricochets through the room.

Gasps. Murmurs. Someone drops their spoon.

Damian jerks back, stunned, his hand going to his face. His eyes—icy blue, sharp enough to slice lock on mine. “What the hell......”

“You ruined my life!” My voice shakes, loud and raw. “You think you can sleep with me and pretend it never happened? I’m pregnant, you bastard!”

The whispers grow louder. I see a phone angled toward us. Someone else whispers, “Did she just say pregnant?”

Vanessa shoots up from her chair so fast her wine spills onto the tablecloth. Her lips curl, eyes blazing. “You.....” She slaps Damian across the other cheek.

The crowd gasps again. This time, people stand to watch.

“You’ve been cheating on me?” Vanessa screams. “With her?” She jabs a manicured finger toward me, like I’m some insect she’s pointing out to be crushed.

“I.....Vanessa, wait.....” Damian begins, voice tight.

But Vanessa doesn’t wait. She snatches her purse, flips her hair, and storms toward the exit, her heels hammering the marble floor like war drums.

Every pair of eyes in the restaurant snaps back to us.

Damian exhales sharply through his nose, like he’s seconds from snapping. He straightens to his full height—towering, intimidating, every inch the man who thinks the world bends for him. “Who the hell are you?”

“Don’t play dumb.” My voice is trembling, but I refuse to back down. “You know exactly who I am.”

He studies me, confusion flickering across his features, then settling into something harder. Cold. “No. I don’t. I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

My heart plummets, but I grit my teeth. “Don’t you dare.”

He tilts his head, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips. “If this is some stunt to get money out of me, you’re wasting your time.”

“Money?” My laugh is sharp, bitter. “You think I want your money? I want you to take responsibility.”

“Responsibility for what?” His voice is quiet, dangerous. “For a child you claim is mine when I’ve never touched you?”

“You liar!” My throat burns as tears threaten, but I swallow them down. “I remember everything. The club. The drinks. The hotel. The tattoo.”

His brow furrows. “What tattoo?”

“The one on your abs. Black snake. Curled right above your hip.”

Something flickers in his eyes—something sharp, almost alarmed. He pulls his shirt from his waistband with slow, deliberate movements. Then, under the restaurant’s crystal lights, he lifts it.

Gasps ripple again.

My breath catches.

His torso is sculpted perfection—hard abs, skin like golden marble. But there’s no tattoo. Not a trace.

My body goes cold.

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “No, it was there. I saw it.”

Damian doesn’t look smug. He looks calculating. Dangerous. He slips his phone from his pocket, swipes, then thrusts it in my face.

On the screen: a photo of him. And another man.

Identical.

“This,” Damian says, voice flat, “is Adrian. My twin brother. He’s the one you slept with. Not me.”

The ground tilts beneath me. I grip the edge of the table for balance.

The whispers around us rise, a tide of scandal ready to crash.

My face burns with humiliation.

A twin. Of course. A twin he never mentioned. A twin who let me think.....

“You’re lying,” I breathe.

“I wish I were.” His words slice clean. “But you stormed in here, humiliated me, destroyed my relationship, and dragged my name into your mess.”

“My mess?” My voice cracks. “Your brother didn’t tell me. He didn’t warn me. I thought....”

“You thought wrong.” His jaw tightens, his eyes flashing. “And now you’ve turned my life into a circus.”

Tears blur my vision, but fury burns hotter. “Don’t you dare make yourself the victim here. You knew what kind of man your brother is, didn’t you? You let him do this to me.”

His silence is answer enough.

The hostess hovers nervously at the edge of the scene, unsure if she should intervene. Phones are still out. Everyone is still watching.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t stay here another second.

“Fine,” I say, my voice breaking. “I’ll find Adrian. But you’re not off the hook, Damian. You’re his brother. And you’ll pay for protecting him.”

I spin on my heel and storm out.

The restaurant doors slam behind me.

Outside, the city air is cool, but my skin burns. My hands are trembling so badly I fumble my phone twice before finally clutching it to my chest.

The screen lights with a message from my best friend: Are you sure about this? You’re walking into fire, Ari.

I close my eyes, swallowing hard.

Am I sure?

No. Not at all.

But one thing is certain.

I’m carrying Adrian Cole’s baby.

And Damian Cole, the wrong man just became a part of my nightmare.