Chapter 4

 ISABELLE’S POV

“How am I supposed to tell Tessa?”

I finally opened the door with tears rolling down my cheeks. “Oh babyyy”, Tessa hugged me without asking more questions. I told her everything, about the one night stand and the stranger, atleast she saw him. 

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the pregnancy test in my hand as if the two lines might disappear if I looked long enough. 

“My mother already thought I was irresponsible. She reminded me almost every day that my younger brother and sisters depended on me, that money never lasted, and that I needed to make life easier for all of us”, I said sniffing. “I might just do an abor…”.

“No, you're doing no such thing. We'll find the father”, Tessa cut me mid sentence.

“Mum is going to be so disappointed,” I whispered. “How can I tell her I’m carrying a child when I can’t even give her the father’s name?”

“He didn't give you his phone number?”, Tessa asked. 

“I barely knew anything about him. I didn’t have his number, his full name, or any idea where to find him. All I remembered clearly was his face and the money I had found on the pillow the morning after”.

My stomach twisted at the memory. I had left that hotel feeling humiliated, and now the same night had followed me home in a way I couldn’t escape.

“I should never have gone to that club,” I muttered.

A sound came from the doorway.

I looked up. My mother stood there, one hand resting against the doorframe. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes were fixed on me.

“What exactly are you supposed to tell me?” she asked.

My mouth went dry. “Mum, how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to hear you talking to Tessa. What is it you want to tell me, Isabelle?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” She stepped inside and closed the door. “You’ve been acting strangely. Now you’re whispering about something you need to tell me. What is it?”

“Aunt Joanna, I think I'll be going now”, Tessa excused herself and walked out.

I tried to hide the test behind my back, but she noticed.

“What are you holding?”

“Nothing, Mum.”

“Show me”, she insisted.

I didn’t move.

“Isabelle…”

Her voice carried the warning I had known since childhood. With trembling fingers, I brought the test forward. She stared at it, confused at first. Then she understood.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. “No,” she finally said. “Tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”

I lowered my eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

She took the test from me and examined closely. Then she looked at me.

“How?”

“Mum—”

“How did this happen? Who is the man?”, her came out broken.

“I don’t know his name.”

“You don’t know his name?” Her voice rose. “You’re pregnant, and you don’t even know who the father is?”

“I know what he looks like. I just don’t know how to contact him.”

She paced across the room, shaking her head. “After everything this family is going through? Your brother and sisters need you, Isabelle. We can barely manage as it is, and now this?”

“I didn’t plan it.”

“Then explain it. Where did you meet him? What happened? Describe him.”

But she kept asking, and I knew there was no way out of it.

So I told her everything.

When I finished, she sat heavily on the edge of my bed. Her anger remained, but fear had added to it. She looked at the test again, then at me.

“You’re going to find him,” she said.

“Mum, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Remember everything you can. His face, anything he said. Anything that can help us find him.”

“I remember his eyes and his face, but that doesn’t mean I can find him.”

-------

The next afternoon, Tessa arrived without warning. I was sitting in the living room, trying to act as though my world hadn’t fallen apart, when she hurried in with a glossy magazine in her hand.

“Isabelle, you need to see this.”

“What happened?”

“Just look.”

She flipped through the pages until she reached a photograph of a man in a dark suit standing outside a glass building. He looked straight at the camera with the same composed expression I remembered from that night.

My breath caught.

Those eyes…that face.

It was him. Tessa studied me. “That’s the man, isn’t it?”

I leaned closer, hoping I had mistaken him. But the photograph brought back every detail I had tried to bury.

“Yes,” I whispered. “That’s him.”

My mother appeared from the kitchen and took the magazine. Beneath the photograph was a name in bold letters — Damian Whitmore, a billionaire businessman whose company was featured in the article.

“Damian Whitmore,” she repeated. “At least now we have a name.”

Tessa searched on her phone. Within minutes, she found his company website and an address connected to his residence. My mother wrote it down before I could object.

“Mum, we can’t just show up at his house,” I said. “What if he refuses to see us?”

“Then he’ll have to refuse to our faces.”

“We should call first. We should think about this”, I muttered.

“We’ve thought enough. You’re carrying his child, and he needs to know.”

I looked at Tessa, hoping she would convince my mother to slow down, but she only squeezed my hand.

Less than an hour later, we stood outside a grand house that looked nothing like any place I had ever entered. Security cameras watched from the corners, and a uniformed guard approached us.

My mother explained that we needed to speak with Damian Whitmore about a private matter. After a phone call and a long wait, the guard finally let us through.

Every step toward the entrance made my heart pound harder. I had prepared myself for shock, anger, or disbelief.

I hadn’t prepared myself for the way he looked at me when he appeared in the doorway.

Damian wore a crisp white shirt, his sleeves rolled to his forearms. His eyes moved from my mother to Tessa, then stopped on me. Recognition flickered across his face before disappearing.

“What is this about?” he asked.

My mother stepped forward. “This is about your unborn child.”

His expression hardened. “My child?”

I forced myself to speak. “I’m pregnant, Damian. And you’re the father.”

For a moment, he stared at me. Then his jaw tightened, and he stepped back as if I had insulted him.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” he said coldly, “but that child is not mine.”