Chapter 8

The Frost Holdings building was nearly empty when they arrived. Dylan took the private elevator to his floor, the silence oppressive after the chaos in his head.

His office felt different now. Every surface Isla had touched, the desk where she left his morning coffee, the chair she sat in during briefings, the window where she’d stood on her first day all of it carried new weight.

Dylan sank into his chair, pulling up his email. True to her word, Evelyn had sent the candidate profiles.

Vivienne Sinclair - Heiress, philanthropist, graduated summa cum laude from Wellesley.

Charlotte Beaumont - CEO of her family’s hotel chain, featured in Forbes 30 Under 30.

Anastasia Volkov - International relations expert, speaks six languages.

They were impressive women, all of them. Beautiful, accomplished, exactly what his mother would consider “suitable.”

But unfortunately, none of them were Isla.

Dylan’s finger hovered over the delete button, but he stopped himself. This wasn’t about what he wanted. It was about duty, legacy and the empire his father had built and trusted him to protect.

That same father had also valued honor and responsibility.

What would he say if he knew I’d gotten a woman pregnant and left her to face it alone?

The thought settled like poison in his gut.

Dylan opened a new browser window, pulling up Mercy General’s website. Dr. Sarah Chen’s profile appeared, board-certified OB-GYN, specialist in high-risk pregnancies.

His cursor hovered over the contact information. He dismissed the idea and instead pulled out a notepad, the same way he approached any complex business problem, and began making a list:

Facts:

1. Isla is 8 weeks pregnant

2. Timeline matches our encounter

3. She has a uterine condition - pregnancy is high-risk

4. She doesn’t remember me

5. She’s financially struggling (took this job out of desperation)

6. She believes there’s “no father to tell”

Problems:

1. Revealing my identity could traumatize her

2. She might think I’m taking advantage of my position

3. She could quit, disappear - I’d lose all ability to help

4. The selection dinner is tomorrow

5. Mother expects me to choose a wife within weeks

6. Ezra’s wedding is in 3 months

Options:

1. Tell her the truth immediately - RISK: She runs, I lose her and the baby

2. Help anonymously - RISK: She finds out, feels violated

3. Wait until after the baby is born - RISK: Her condition worsens, something happens to her or the child

4. Do nothing - NOT AN OPTION

Dylan’s pen paused on the paper.

There was another option. One he’d been avoiding because it complicated everything.

5. Marry her.

The thought should have felt absurd. She was his secretary. Pregnant with a child she didn’t know was his. They barely knew each other, at least, she barely knew him.

But it solved multiple problems at once. It wasn't like he loved her, but she's carrying his kid while struggling financially. Marrying her means that she’d have financial security, access to the best medical care, and protection. The baby would have his name, his legacy. And he’d fulfill his father’s requirement married before Ezra.

It’s insane.

But was it more insane than sitting through performative dinners with strangers, choosing a wife like selecting a business merger? At least with Isla, there was something real, a child, a connection, however complicated it was, love was easy to build with her than with complete strangers with no connection.

A knock at the door startled him from his thoughts.

“Come in.”

Marcus entered, looking uncomfortable. “Sir, I’m heading home for the night. But I wanted to check… are you alright?”

Dylan looked at his driver, the only true friend by his side, though neither of them would say it aloud. Marcus had been with him for five years, had seen him through his father’s death, the corporate battles, and the endless parade of social obligations.

“Marcus,” Dylan said slowly. “Hypothetically… if you’d made a mistake. A significant one. And the person affected didn’t know it was your mistake… would you tell them?”

Marcus was quiet for a long moment. “That depends, sir. Would telling them make things better? Or would it just ease your own conscience while making their life harder?”

The question hit home.

“And if staying silent meant they’d suffer without knowing you could help?”

“Then silence isn’t an option, is it?” Marcus met his gaze steadily. “The real question isn’t whether to tell. It’s when, and how.”

Dylan nodded slowly. “Thank you, Marcus. Get some rest.”

After Marcus left, Dylan sat alone in the darkness, the city glittering below him like a carpet of fallen stars.

Tomorrow he had a dinner with three potential wives.

Tomorrow his mother would expect him to play the part of the dutiful son, choosing a suitable partner for a suitable marriage.

But tonight, all he could think about was Isla alone in her apartment, one hand resting protectively over a secret she didn’t know she shared with him.

When and how, like Marcus had said.

Dylan pulled out his phone and opened his calendar. The selection dinner glared at him from tomorrow’s schedule.

He couldn’t cancel. His mother would never forgive him.

But after the dinner… he’d find a way to help Isla. Even if she never knew it was him.

His phone buzzed with a new email. Evelyn, confirming tomorrow’s arrangements.

Dylan took a deep breath and began to type his response, his mind already calculating the next move in a game that had suddenly become far more personal than he’d ever intended.