CHAPTER 3

The glow of my computer monitor was giving me a headache, but the numbers on the spreadsheet were just a blur of meaningless gray text. I stared at the screen, but all I could see was Liam’s sneering face. All I could hear was the echo of his voice, smooth and casual as he dismantled my entire existence.

She’s just... heavy. Clumsy. Suffocating. I look at her and I just see blubber.

I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to physically push the memories back, but they were lodged in my brain like shards of glass. Every time I took a breath, my chest ached. I felt bloated, sick, and entirely hollowed out.

"Hey, Chloe, can you print these for me?"

I jumped, knocking my pen off the desk. It was Sarah from accounting. I forced a tight, wobbly smile, nodding as I grabbed the files. "Sure. Give me a sec."

I walked toward the copy room, my thick thighs rubbing together beneath my emerald dress.

The office was unusually quiet, but as I turned the corner near the breakroom, I heard the hushed, giggling voices of two junior marketing associates.

"I'm just saying, it doesn't make sense," a male voice whispered. "Liam is a solid ten. He’s got the jawline, the hair, the car. Why is he with her?"

"Money, probably. Or she’s just really good in bed," a female voice replied, followed by a cruel little snicker. "I mean, look at her. She’s sweet and all, but she’s huge. She takes up two seats at the lunch table. If I were a guy like Liam, I’d be embarrassed to be seen with her. He’s probably just using her for her brain until he gets his promotion."

My face burned with a shame so intense it felt like a physical slap. I stopped dead in my tracks, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the files. They didn't even know I was standing there, but their words were a magnifying glass over my deepest, darkest insecurities. Why would a handsome guy like Liam go for me? I had asked myself that a hundred times. Now, I had my answer. He hadn't. He was just waiting for the right moment to discard me.

I dropped the files on the copier and practically ran back to my desk. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. My hand instinctively drifted down to rest over my lower stomach. Beneath the soft curve of my belly, a tiny life was growing. A baby. Our baby.

Liam was cruel, yes. He was shallow and vain. But he wasn't a monster. He couldn't be. If he just knew about the baby, if he understood that we were bringing a life into the world, his better nature would kick in. He would step up. He had to.

I stood up, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I needed to talk to him. Right now.

I marched down the hall toward the executive conference rooms. Liam was in Room B, reviewing his final presentation notes. I peeked through the glass. He was alone, pacing the room, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair.

I pushed the door open and slipped inside, locking it behind me.

Liam spun around, his face hardening into a scowl. "Chloe? What the hell are you doing? I told you to get to your desk. If the VP walks in and sees you in here—"

"Please, Liam, just give me two minutes," I begged, my voice cracking. I took a step toward him, my hands trembling. "I heard what you said this morning. I know you're stressed about the promotion, and I know I’ve been eating a lot lately, but you didn't have to say those things. You didn't have to call me disgusting."

Liam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Chloe, I was venting. You’re being overly dramatic. Just go back to work."

"I can't just go back to work!" I cried, tears spilling hot and fast down my cheeks. "Because I have something to tell you. Something that changes everything." I took a deep, shuddering breath, looking up into his handsome, familiar eyes. "I’m pregnant, Liam. I took the test this morning. We’re having a baby."

For a second, the room was dead silent.

Liam froze. His expression shifted, the harsh lines of his face softening into a mask of practiced, gentle concern.

He stepped forward, reaching out to gently cup my cheek. His thumb brushed away a tear. "Oh, baby," he murmured, his voice dripping with faux sweetness. "Are you sure? I mean... wow. A baby."

My heart leaped. A tiny, foolish spark of hope ignited in my chest. "Yes," I sobbed, leaning into his touch. "I'm sure. We're going to be parents, Liam. We can fix this. We can be a family."

Liam’s thumb stopped moving. The gentle warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, dead stare that made my blood run ice-cold. He dropped his hand from my face as if I had suddenly turned to ash.

"You're keeping it?" he asked, his voice flat.

"Of course I'm keeping it! It's our child!"

Liam let out a harsh, humorless laugh and took a step back, crossing his arms. "Chloe, be reasonable. Look at yourself. Look at us. I am not bringing a child into this world just to watch it suffer. I can't have my child inherit your... size. I can't have my kid walking around looking like a bloated cow because of your genetics."

The air left my lungs in a violent rush. I staggered back, hitting the edge of the conference table. "What... what did you just say?"

"You heard me," Liam said coldly. "Get rid of it. Get an abortion, Chloe. It’s the only logical choice. I’m not tying myself to a fat woman for the rest of my life just because of a mistake."

"A mistake?" I whispered, the world spinning around me. "Our baby is a mistake?"

"Yes. And since we're clearly not going to be together, I want my things back," he said, checking his expensive watch. "The diamond necklace I bought you for our anniversary. The designer bags. The watch. You have three days to pack them all up and bring them to me. Don't try to keep anything. Consider it a severance package for your time wasted."

I stared at him, completely paralyzed. The man I loved was dead. The man standing in front of me was a stranger wrapped in Liam’s skin.

Before I could form a single word, the conference room door clicked open.

**Chapter 3**

Bella strolled into the room, holding two cups of artisanal coffee. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me, her painted lips curling into a slow, mocking smile.

"Oh," Bella drawled, her eyes sweeping over my tear-streaked face and the way I was clutching my stomach. "Am I interrupting? I brought your oat milk latte, Liam. Just how you like it."

Liam’s entire demeanor transformed. The cruel, cold executive vanished, replaced by a charming, relaxed smile. He walked over to Bella, wrapping an arm around her tiny, waist-length waist and pulling her flush against his side.

"Not at all, babe," Liam said smoothly, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I was just finishing up some final cleanup."

"Cleanup?" Bella echoed, taking a sip of her coffee. She looked at me, her eyes glittering with malicious delight. "Is Chloe leaving? I thought she worked here."

"She’s taking a personal day," Liam said dismissively, not even looking at me. "Chloe, you heard me. Three days for my gifts. Now get out. I have a meeting with my girlfriend."

*Girlfriend.* The word hit me like a physical blow. Bella giggled, leaning up to press her glossy lips against Liam’s. He kissed her back, deep and possessive, right in front of me. He rested his hand on the small of her back, his fingers splaying over the thin fabric of her skirt, claiming her in the very room where he had just told me to abort our child.

I couldn't stay. I couldn't breathe.

I turned and fled. I threw open the door and ran down the hallway, my heels clicking frantically against the hardwood. I didn't care who saw me. I didn't care about the whispers or the stares. I just needed to get away. I pushed through the heavy fire doors into the concrete stairwell, the heavy door slamming shut behind me, cutting off the sterile, air-conditioned air of the office.

I collapsed against the cold cinderblock wall, sliding down until I hit the steps. I pulled my knees to my chest, burying my face in my arms as I sobbed until my throat was raw. I was worthless. I was a joke. A fat, pathetic joke who was going to be a single mother to a child whose father despised her.

I don't know how long I sat there. Minutes? Hours? Time had lost all meaning.

Eventually, the sound of the elevator chiming on the main floor echoed down the stairwell, followed by a sudden, profound silence that seemed to seep through the heavy fire door. The chaotic hum of the office had instantly died.

Wiping my face with the back of my sleeve, I stood up on shaky legs. I pushed the door open and stepped back into the hallway.

The entire fourteenth floor was frozen. Everyone was standing at their desks, heads bowed, typing furiously or staring at their screens. The air felt different. Heavier. Charged with an electric, almost suffocating tension.

Then, I saw him.

Adrian Vance.

The CEO. The older brother. The man who rarely left the penthouse executive suite on the top floor.

He stepped out of the private executive elevator, and the atmosphere in the room shifted entirely. If Liam was pretty, Adrian was devastating. He was tall—well over six-foot-three—with broad, imposing shoulders that strained against the immaculate, bespoke charcoal fabric of his suit. His dark hair was styled with effortless, messy elegance, and his jawline was sharp enough to cut glass. But it was his eyes that caught me. They were a piercing, stormy gray, scanning the floor with the cold, calculating precision of a predator assessing its territory.

He didn't just walk; he glided with a dark, magnetic grace that commanded absolute authority. Every woman in the office was staring at him with barely concealed lust, and every man looked terrified.

He was Liam’s older brother, but they shared absolutely nothing in common. Liam was a boy playing dress-up in a man’s world. Adrian was the man who owned the world.

I was standing near the water cooler, completely out of place, my eyes red and puffy, my dress wrinkled from my collapse in the stairwell. I tried to shrink back, to make myself invisible, but it was too late.

Adrian stopped.

He was twenty feet away, but the sheer force of his attention felt like a physical weight. The stormy gray eyes locked onto me. The entire floor seemed to hold its breath. He wasn't looking at me with the disgust Liam had shown, or the pity the interns had shown. He was looking at me with an intense, unreadable focus that made my heart stutter in my chest.

Slowly, Adrian changed his trajectory. He was walking toward me.

My pulse roared in my ears. I wanted to run back to the stairwell, but my legs felt like lead. I stood frozen as he closed the distance, his expensive cologne—a rich, intoxicating blend of sandalwood, leather, and dark scotch—washing over me.

He stopped just a foot away. Up close, he was even more overwhelming. I could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the sharp intelligence in his eyes.

"You're Chloe," he said. His voice was a deep, resonant baritone that vibrated in the quiet hallway. It wasn't a question. He knew my name.

"Y-yes, sir," I stammered, my voice raspy from crying. I looked down at his polished Oxford shoes, unable to meet his intense gaze. "I'm sorry. I was just... I'm going back to my desk."

Adrian didn't move out of my way. Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crisp, monogrammed silk handkerchief. He held it out to me.

"You're shaking," he observed quietly, his tone devoid of the cruelty I was so used to. It was calm. Commanding. "And you've been crying."

I stared at the handkerchief, then up at his face. His eyes were searching mine, tracking the tear tracks on my cheeks, the trembling of my lips. For a fleeting second, I saw a flash of something dark and fiercely protective ignite in his stormy gray eyes.

"Who did this to you, Chloe?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave, the quietness of it somehow more terrifying than a shout.