CHAPTER TWO:Are You ill?

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“I asked you a question, Beth,” Adrian’s voice was quiet. Deadly quiet. The kind of quiet that came before men like him ruined lives. “Are. You. Ill?”

The pregnancy test was burning a hole through my bra. Two pink lines pressed against my ribs like evidence at a murder trial.

I wasn’t murdered yet. But I was about to be.

“No,” I lied. The word scraped my throat raw. “I’m not ill, Mr. Knight. I just… didn’t sleep last night.”

His eyes didn’t leave my stomach. “Security footage says otherwise. You were in my private bathroom for six minutes at 3:20 A.M. You came out pale. Sweating.”

He clicked the remote. The screen froze on me clutching the sink, my other hand pressed to my belly.

My cheeks flamed. “I ate something bad. The diner by the—”

“Don’t.” One word. It shut me up. “I hate liars more than I hate thieves, Beth. And right now, you’re looking like both.”

The intercom buzzed again. Susan, less patient this time. “Mr. Knight, Miss D’Souza is asking if she should order without you.”

Valeria. His fiancée. The woman who had a Vogue spread last month titled _“New York’s Next Power Couple.”_

Adrian’s jaw ticked. He didn’t look away from me. “Tell her I’ll be there in two minutes.”

Two minutes. That was all I had before he went to lunch with the woman he’d marry, while I carried his baby and $3.72.

“Mr. Knight, I swear I didn’t take anything.” I forced my voice to stop shaking. “If this is about the rug, I’ll pay for cleaning. Just take it out of my last—”

“It’s not about the rug.” He tossed the remote onto his desk. It skittered across the glass. “We have a leak.”

“A… leak?”

“Corporate espionage.” He said it like I should know what that meant. “Someone on night staff has been selling photos of internal memos. Board meeting notes. _My_ notes.” He stepped closer. “You were here at 3 A.M. Alone. In my office.”

Realization hit me cold. He thought _I_ was a spy.

“I was cleaning,” I whispered. “That’s all. I swear on—” On what? I had nothing to swear on. Not my mom, she was dead. Not my future, it was ruined.

He laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound. “Everyone swears, Beth. Usually right before I have them arrested.”

Arrested.

The word knocked the air out of me. Jail. Pregnant. In jail. I’d seen Orange Is the New Black. I would not survive.

“Please,” I choked out. “I have rent due. I can’t—”

“That’s exactly why people sell information, isn’t it?” He tilted his head. “Desperation.”

He wasn’t wrong. If someone offered me $10k right now for a photo of his desk, I’d…

_No._ I wouldn’t. But he didn’t know that.

He picked up a folder from his desk. Manilla. Thick. “Legal is drawing up charges now. Trespassing. Theft of intellectual property. I’m sure they’ll think of more.”

He dropped the folder. It landed with a slap that echoed.

My name was on the tab. _Williams, Beth._

“I didn’t do it,” I said again, but my voice was gone. What was the point? Adrian Knight decided who was guilty. The rest of us just got sentenced.

He studied me for three seconds. It felt like three years.

Then his phone rang. The screen lit up: _Valeria ❤️._

He ignored it. Kept staring at me. At my stomach.

“You’re lying,” he said finally. “I just don’t know what about yet.”

He walked to his office door and pulled it open. “Susan.”

She appeared instantly, like she’d been pressed against the wood. “Sir?”

“Have security escort Miss Williams out. She’s not to set foot in this building again. If she does, call NYPD.”

Susan’s eyes went wide. Then smug. “Of course, Mr. Knight.”

This was it. Fired twice. Blacklisted. Accused of a crime. And pregnant.

I should have left. Run. But my feet were glued to his imported carpet. Because if I walked out that door, I was walking out with his baby. And he’d never know.

Adrian turned back to me. “This is your only warning, Beth. Whatever you’re hiding? Bury it. If I find out you sold anything from this office, I will make sure you regret it.”

He thought I stole files.

He had no idea I stole his DNA.

“Mr. Knight—” I started.

“Beth!” A new voice. Female. Expensive.

We both turned.

She was standing in the doorway. Tall. Blonde. Dress probably cost more than my life. Valeria D’Souza.

Her eyes went from Adrian, to me, to the security footage still frozen on the screen. To my hand, still pressed against my stomach.

Her smile died.

“And who is this?” Valeria asked, but she was only looking at Adrian. Her voice was ice. “Your office seems to have a lot of… female visitors lately.”

Adrian didn’t answer. He was watching me. Waiting to see what I’d do.

Valeria stepped inside. Her heels were loud on the marble. She stopped in front of me, looked me up and down, and wrinkled her nose at my XXL uniform.

“She doesn’t look like legal,” Valeria said softly. “Or a board member.”

“I’m no one,” I whispered. The words came out before I could stop them. _No one._

The same words I’d said to myself every night since I peed on that stick.

Valeria’s eyes narrowed. “No one doesn’t get private meetings with my fiancé, sweetie.”

She reached out. One long, manicured finger. And poked me. Right in the center of my chest. Right where the pregnancy test was hidden in my bra.

Plastic crinkled.

Loud.

In the dead silent office, it sounded like a gunshot.

Adrian heard it. His head snapped toward the sound. Toward my chest.

Valeria heard it. Her eyes dropped to my bra. Then flew to my face.

I couldn’t breathe.

“What,” Adrian said, voice lethal, “was that?”

Valeria smiled. Slow and cat-like. “I don’t know, darling. Why don’t you ask _no one_ to show you what she’s hiding?”

Three pairs of eyes. All on me.

The fiancée. The billionaire. And the two pink lines between us.

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