CHAPTER FOUR: It's Yours.

“SECURITY!”

Valeria’s scream bounced off the marble walls. Two guards filled the bathroom doorway in seconds, hands on their tasers.

“Get her out!” Valeria pointed at me like I was a rat. “She’s trespassing! She’s a liar! She’s—”

“Enough.”

Adrian didn’t shout. He didn’t need to. One word from him and the whole world stopped.

The guards froze. Valeria’s mouth snapped shut.

He was still holding my wrist. His thumb was pressed over my pulse. Like he was checking if I was real. Or if I’d disappear if he let go.

The pregnancy test was still in my other hand. Two pink lines, faced up. Evidence. Sentence. Lifeline.

Adrian looked at it. Then at me. Then at Valeria.

“I said _enough_,” he repeated. Slower. Deadlier.

Valeria blinked. “Adrian, did you not hear her? She’s claiming she’s—”

“I heard her.”

Three words. The temperature in the bathroom dropped twenty degrees.

Susan appeared behind the guards, clutching her clipboard like a shield. “Mr. Knight, should we call NYPD? For the theft and the—”

“There was no theft.” Adrian finally let go of my wrist. I nearly collapsed without his grip holding me up.

He plucked the pregnancy test from my fingers. His. Now.

Valeria made a strangled sound. “You’re _believing_ her? Adrian, she’s a cleaner! She probably got knocked up by some janitor and saw your name on a check!”

I flinched. That was what he thought too, right? That I was trapping him?

Adrian turned the test over in his hand. Like it was a contract he was reviewing. Like it was worth more than Knight Industries.

Then he looked at me. Really looked. Not at my XXL uniform. Not at the cleaner. At _me_.

“Six weeks ago,” he said. Quiet. Only I could hear. “Masquerade gala. Charity auction.”

My blood stopped. He remembered.

“Room 4701,” he continued. “You left a hairpin on the pillow. Silver. Shaped like a star.”

I had. I’d been in such a rush to leave before sunrise, before I did something stupid like ask his name.

Valeria heard “Room 4701.” Her face went white. Then red. “You slept with her? You slept with _the help_?”

Adrian didn’t even glance at her. His eyes were still on me. “Did you keep the check, Beth?”

I shook my head. “I threw it in your pool.”

Something flickered in his eyes. Surprise? Respect? Gone too fast to name.

He turned to the guards. “Leave us.”

“Sir, with all due—”

“Leave. Us.”

They left. Susan scrambled after them, dragging Valeria by the elbow. Valeria was screaming, “Adrian! You cannot be serious! Our engagement party is Friday!”

The door slammed.

Silence.

Just me, Adrian, and two pink lines between us.

He stepped closer. Backed me against his sink. I had nowhere to go.

“Is it mine?” he asked.

“You heard me say it was.” My voice was barely air.

“I want to hear you say it again.” His hand came up. Not to hurt. He cupped my jaw, thumb brushing under my eye where a tear had fallen. “Without her screaming. Without guards. Just us.”

My knees went weak. This was more terrifying than him threatening jail.

“It’s yours,” I whispered. “I swear on my life, Adrian. It’s yours.”

His breath hitched. For one insane second, I thought I saw relief in his eyes.

Then it was gone. Replaced with something dark. Possessive. Billionaire.

He dropped his hand from my face to my stomach. Flat. Still mine. Still his.

He splayed his palm over my uniform, covering where our baby was.

“Mine,” he said. Not a question. A claim.

The word hit me harder than Valeria’s scream.

“Adrian—”

“The wedding is off.” He said it like he was canceling a coffee order. “Susan will draft a statement.”

My mouth fell open. “What? You can’t—”

“I can.” He pulled his phone out, typed one-handed while his other hand stayed on my stomach. Like he was afraid I’d vanish if he let go. “And I will.”

He hit send. Put the phone away.

“I don’t understand,” I choked out. “Two minutes ago you were going to have me arrested. Now you’re—”

“Now I’m keeping what’s mine.” His eyes dropped to my belly. “Both of you.”

Panic clawed up my throat. “I’m not yours. I’m not a thing you—”

“You’re carrying my child, Beth.” His voice went soft again. Dangerous soft. “That makes you mine. Whether you like it or not.”

He pulled his hand back. I sucked in air like I’d been drowning.

“Susan!” he barked.

She opened the door a crack. “Sir?”

“Bring Miss Williams a new contract. Effective immediately.” He looked me up and down. “She’s moving into the penthouse. Top floor. My floor.”

My heart stopped. “What? No. I’m not—”

“Twenty-four hour security,” he continued like I hadn’t spoken. “Private doctor. No one goes near her without my approval.”

“Adrian, listen to me,” I grabbed his sleeve. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want your penthouse. I just—”

“Then what do you want, Beth?” He covered my hand with his. The one fisted in his $5,000 suit. “Because you’re having my baby. You’re broke. You’re homeless. And my fiancée just tried to have you arrested.”

He wasn’t wrong. But he wasn’t right either.

“I want choices,” I whispered.

His jaw ticked. “You had choices. You chose to keep it. You chose to come back here. You chose to tell me.”

He leaned down. Too close. His breath was on my lips.

“Now I’m choosing.” His voice was a brand. “And I choose you. It. Both.”

He straightened. Looked at Susan. “Did you get that? ‘It’s yours’ goes in the contract. Page one.”

Susan was frantically typing on her iPad. “Y-yes, Mr. Knight. What’s her position?”

Adrian looked at me. At my stomach. At the test still in his hand.

His smile was slow. Cold. Claiming.

“Mother of my heir.”

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