CHAPTER NINE :Valeria's War"

[SFX: PENTHOUSE. 10:00 AM. CNN PLAYING ON MUTE.]

_“BILLIONAIRE LOVE TRIANGLE EXPLODES: ADRIAN KNIGHT DUMPS SOCIALITE FOR PREGNANT WAITRESS”_

My face was on CNN. My old employee ID from The Corner Diner. I looked 16. And terrified.

[SFX: DOOR BEEP. SUSAN + ELENA ENTERING.]

Susan carried iPad. Elena carried breakfast. Oatmeal. Bananas. Prenatal vitamin on a silver tray. Like I was a sick queen.

“Mr. Knight said you didn’t sleep,” Susan said. Not looking at me. Looking at the shattered vase from last night. Still there. No one cleaned it. Adrian’s orders. “He said to tell you… Valeria’s lawyers sent a cease and desist.”

I laughed. It sounded hysterical. “For what? Existing?”

“For ‘alienation of affection’,” Susan read. “‘Emotional distress.’ ‘Theft of a fiancé via premeditated pregnancy.’ She’s asking for $100 million.”

$100 million. For a one-night stand.

“Where is he?” I asked Elena. Elena was older. 50s. Kind eyes. She was the only one who looked at me like a human.

“Mr. Knight is buying TMZ,” Elena said softly. Like it was normal. Like you could buy TMZ before lunch.

I choked on oatmeal. “He’s what?”

“He’s on the phone with their parent company,” Susan confirmed. “He said if he owns it, they can’t print your name.”

He was buying an entire media company. To shut Valeria up. To erase me.

[SFX: DOOR BEEP. ADRIAN STORMING IN.]

He didn’t look like he’d slept. Suit on. Tie choking him. Eyes bloodshot.

“Turn it off,” he told Susan. She killed the TV.

He looked at me. At the oatmeal. At the vase shards.

“Levinson’s here,” he said. “Nurse too. For blood work. Daily, from now on.”

Daily blood work. Like I was a lab rat.

“Adrian,” I said. “You can’t buy TMZ.”

“I just did.” He said it flat. “$600 million. Cash. It’s mine by noon.”

$600 million. To protect a baby that was the size of a blueberry.

“Why?” I asked. Same question as always. “Why not just DNA test and—”

“Because I don’t _want_ a test,” he snapped. “Because I don’t _care_ if he’s mine.”

The room went dead silent. Even Susan stopped typing.

Adrian froze. Like he didn’t mean to say it. Like it slipped out of the cage too.

“What?” I breathed.

He ran a hand through his hair. Destroying the CEO look. “If the test says he’s not mine… what then, Beth? I let you walk? Into that?” He pointed at the TV. At my face on CNN. “Into Valeria’s mob? Into cameras and court and—”

“You’d keep me anyway?” I was standing now. Legs shaking. “Even if he’s not yours?”

Adrian didn’t answer for ten seconds.

Then: “Yes.”

The word was a confession. A crime.

“Why?” I was crying now. Excessive. Breach of contract 4.1. “Why would you—”

“Because I don’t remember your last name,” he said. Raw. Wrecked. “But I remember your face when you left my bed. Like you were stealing something. Like you’d never steal again.”

He stepped closer. Not touching. But close enough to drown in.

“And I’ve spent six weeks trying to figure out what you stole from me.” His voice dropped. “It was _this_. This feeling. Like my chest’s been hollow since you walked out.”

[SFX: IPAD ALERT. SUSAN FLINCHING.]

“Sir,” Susan whispered. “Valeria posted a video. She’s… she’s at your building. Downstairs. With press.”

Adrian didn’t move. Didn’t look away from me.

“Let her scream,” he said. “Beth’s not hearing it.”

He nodded to Marcos at the door. “Soundproof the windows. Now.”

Because my stress was bad for the baby.

Always the baby.

Except now… maybe not just the baby.

---