LOGINDominic did not sleep.
He stood in his study long after Emma locked herself in the guest bedroom upstairs. The house was silent, but the silence was wrong. Too heavy. Too distant. For four years, this house had responded to her. Her perfume in the hallways. Her voice instructing staff. Her quiet laugh drifting from the balcony at night. Now it felt like foreign territory. And he hated it. His jaw tightened as he replayed the hotel scene again. The tears. The way she stepped back from his touch. The refusal in her voice when she said no. Emma had never told him no. Not like that. Not without softening afterward. Tonight she hadn’t softened. She had withdrawn. And that was unacceptable. *** Upstairs, Emma sat on the edge of the bed in the dimly lit guest room. Not their bedroom. She couldn’t step inside it. Not after picturing Laura’s hands on him. Her stomach churned again. The nausea hadn’t stopped. She pressed her palm against her abdomen slowly. Late. She counted backward in her head. Her breath trembled. No. It couldn’t be. But deep down she knew. She hadn’t felt it before … faint exhaustion, dizziness, that strange heaviness low in her body. And the timing… Tears slid down her face silently. Of all the moments. Of all the nights. Of all the betrayals. This one came with consequences. A child. His child. The door opened without knocking. She stiffened. Dominic stepped inside. He had changed out of his suit. Dark shirt. Sleeves rolled up. Hair still slightly disheveled. He looked unfairly calm. Controlled. Powerful. Like the man who had built an empire from nothing. Not the man who had just destroyed his wife. “You locked the door again ,” he said quietly. “You broke it …. Again .” His eyes flicked toward the handle. Then back to her. “If I need to enter a room in my house, I will.” There it was. Control. Ownership. Emma wiped her tears quickly and stood. “I don’t want to fight.” “Good,” he said. “Neither do I.” She stared at him in disbelief. “You were in bed with my best friend.” His jaw tightened. “It’s not what you think.” “Then tell me what it is.” Silence. His gaze hardened. “It’s complicated.” The same word. She felt something inside her snap. “Stop saying that.” Her voice rose for the first time. “Stop talking to me like I’m stupid.” Dominic stepped closer. Slow. Measured. Every step calculated. “You’re emotional,” he said low. “And when you’re emotional, you misinterpret.” Misinterpret. Her chest burned. “I saw you,” she whispered. He stopped only inches away now. Close enough that she could smell his cologne. Close enough that her body remembered him. Hated that it remembered him. His hand lifted instinctively, brushing a tear from her cheek. The touch was gentle. Intimate. Familiar. Her body reacted before her mind did. She froze. His eyes darkened at the response. “Look at me,” he murmured. She didn’t want to. But she did. And what she saw unsettled her. Not guilt. Not remorse. Possession. “You’re my wife,” he said quietly. Firmly. “Nothing changes that.” Her breath hitched. “You don’t get to decide that.” “Yes,” he said. “I do.” The words weren’t loud. They didn’t need to be. Dominic had never been loud. He dominated quietly. Through presence. Through power. Through inevitability. “I want a divorce,” she said suddenly. The air changed. His expression didn’t explode. It froze. Completely still. “No,” he replied. No hesitation. No shock. Just refusal. “You don’t get to refuse,” she said, heart pounding. He stepped even closer. Now her back nearly touched the wall. “You think I built everything I have because I let people walk away from me?” She swallowed. “This isn’t business.” His fingers wrapped gently around her wrist. Not hurting. Just firm enough to remind her how strong he was. “It is to me.” Her pulse raced. “Let me go.” His grip tightened slightly. Not painful. But deliberate. “You don’t get to leave me because you’re upset.” “I’m leaving you because you have been cheating on me ... Don’t know for how long..,” she breathed. “I’m done with you.” That word hit him. She saw it. A flicker of something dangerous behind his eyes. He released her abruptly and stepped back. “You’re not thinking clearly.” “I’m thinking perfectly clearly.” Her stomach twisted sharply again. Harder this time. She inhaled sharply. Dominic noticed. Immediately. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” “Emma.” His voice shifted. Not softer. Sharper. More alert. She turned away from him instinctively. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her back. “What is wrong with you?” “Don’t you touch me!” “Don’t…” She shoved him harder than she intended. And suddenly… The room spun. Her vision blurred. Darkness edged her sight. Dominic caught her before she hit the floor. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him. Her body trembled. “Emma.” His voice changed completely now. Not controlling. Not cold. Concerned. Real. She clutched his shirt instinctively as nausea surged again. “I feel sick,” she whispered. His eyes narrowed. “How long?” She froze. He saw it. The hesitation. The calculation. His gaze dropped slowly to her abdomen. Then back to her face. And something shifted. “Are you pregnant?” The question landed like a gunshot. Silence filled the room. Her heart pounded violently. She didn’t answer. That was answer enough. Dominic went very still. His hand moved …slowly ….almost unconsciously …….to rest against her stomach. The gesture was possessive. Claiming. Terrifying. “You’re carrying my child.” Not a question. A statement. Her throat tightened. “Yes, Maybe . I don’t know .” The word barely escaped. For a moment, neither of them moved. Dominic’s expression was unreadable. But something fierce ignited in his eyes. Mine. That’s what it said. Mine. His jaw hardened. “You’re not going anywhere.” The words sent ice through her veins. “This doesn’t change anything,” she whispered. “If anything, it changes everything.” “Yes,” he said quietly. “It does.” He stepped back slightly, running a hand through his hair. His mind was already moving. Strategizing. Calculating. A child meant legacy. Heir. Continuity. Power. And Emma was the mother. “You think divorce is happening now?” he said low. “It’s not.” “You can’t force me to stay.” His gaze returned to her. Cold. Focused. “You’d be surprised what I can do.” Fear crept up her spine. Not because he was yelling. But because he wasn’t. Dominic didn’t threaten without capability. “I won’t let you raise my child away from me,” he continued. “I won’t let you take what belongs to me.” “I’m not your property!” “You’re my wife.” The words were final. Dominant. Terrifyingly calm. Tears filled her eyes again. “I hate you.” The room went silent. He stepped closer once more. But this time his hand didn’t grab her. It cupped her jaw gently. Forcing her to look at him. “You don’t,” he said quietly. The certainty in his voice shook her. “Even now, your body reacts to me.” Her breath caught. Damn him. Damn him for noticing. “You think this ends because you saw something?” he murmured. “You think I’ll let another man touch you?” Her pulse spiked. “I don’t belong to you.” His thumb brushed slowly across her lower lip. Possessive. Measured. “You always have.” The tension between them felt electric. Twisted. Dangerous. She pulled away sharply. “This is over.” He stared at her for a long moment. Then his expression changed. Colder. Harder. Strategic. “If you want war,” he said quietly, “be prepared to lose.” And with that… He walked out of the room. Leaving her shaking. Breathing hard. Terrified. Pregnant. And suddenly aware of something far worse than betrayal. Dominic Sterling was not going to let her go peacefully. And if she wanted freedom… She would have to destroy himNeither of them moved away. Cold night air drifted across the rooftop while the city blurred beneath them in scattered gold and silver light. Emma could still feel Rowan’s forehead resting lightly against hers. Every breath suddenly felt noticeable. His hand remained around her wrist, thumb brushing once against her skin in a way that made coherent thought increasingly difficult. “You overthink everything,” he murmured softly. Emma closed her eyes briefly. “You make that very difficult.” A quiet breath of laughter escaped him. Warm against her skin. And then— thunder cracked sharply across the skyline. The sound startled Emma enough that she pulled back slightly just as cold rain splattered suddenly against the terrace glass. One second later— the sky opened completely. Heavy rain p
Emma Laurent had changed outfits four times already. Which was absurd. She knew it was absurd. And yet somehow she still stood in front of her bedroom mirror staring critically at a black dress she had previously loved thirty minutes ago. Now it suddenly looked too formal. Before that, the green one had looked too soft. The blue one had apparently made her resemble “someone attending a diplomatic funeral.” According to Maya. Who was currently laughing at her through video call alongside Stephanie. “You changed again,” Maya accused immediately. Emma adjusted the sleeve of her dress defensively. “I’m refining options.” “You’re panicking,” Stephanie corrected calmly from the other side of the screen. Emma narrowed her eyes. “I invited neither of you into this emotio
Rain slid steadily across the glass walls of the conference room while Emma stared at the illuminated skyline beyond Blackwoods Holdings. Most of the executive floor had emptied over an hour ago. Only scattered office lights remained now, glowing softly across the building while assistants somewhere down the corridor finished reports that probably should have waited until morning. Emma should have gone home too. Instead, she sat surrounded by Whitmore restructuring files, cold coffee, and the growing realization that her entire life had somehow become international financial news. Disturbing development. She rubbed tiredly beneath one eye before forcing herself toward another page of revised projections. Halfway through the report— her phone vibrated against the table. Unknown international number. Emma frowned sl
Dominic Sterling had spent years building a reputation powerful enough to survive almost anything. Scandals. Competitors. Market crashes. Fear. Especially fear. Fear kept executives obedient, investors loyal, and competitors careful. For years, Dominic had controlled every room he entered simply because people feared what happened when he lost patience. Which was exactly why the atmosphere inside Sterling Global’s boardroom felt so volatile now. Whitmore Industries had walked away. Not publicly. Not emotionally. Not even dramatically. They had simply ended negotiations and transferred the partnership to Blackwoods Holdings as though Sterling Global no longer deserved consideration. Cold blue market projections glowed across the conference room screens while executives sat rigidly around the table
Dominic Sterling had lost Whitmore. The realization settled over the Sterling Global boardroom like smoke after an explosion. Heavy. Impossible to ignore. Nobody spoke immediately after the call disconnected. The massive projection screen still displayed the Whitmore Industries insignia against a dark background while executives sat frozen around the conference table pretending not to look directly at Dominic Sterling. Because everyone in the room understood what had just happened. Whitmore hadn’t negotiated. Hadn’t argued. Hadn’t even entertained discussion. They had simply left. One senior executive finally cleared his throat carefully. “Perhaps we can still recover portions of the European sector if we move quickly—” The crystal glass in Dominic’s hand shattered violently against the wall before he even finished speaki
Emma slowly lifted her gaze toward the dark screen. Nobody in the room moved. Nobody even pretended to look away from the projection wall anymore. Because Alexander Whitmore had spoken only twice since joining the call— and somehow managed to make an entire boardroom feel intellectually inadequate. The screen remained dark. No face. Just the low static hum of the secure conference connection. Then Alexander spoke again. Calm. Measured. Precise. “Your European recovery projections are optimistic.” One senior analyst immediately straightened. “We based those estimates on fourth-quarter—” “You based them on stability assumptions,” Alexander interrupted smoothly. “Sterling Global is not stable.” The analyst stopped talking instantly. Not humiliated. Dismissed.







