CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

GWEN POV

I was sitting at my small desk in my room, trying to focus on my textbooks. The house was quiet until a loud, heavy knock echoed from the front door. I sighed, checking the clock. It was late. I figured it was my dad. He usually stayed at the bar until he couldn't find his own keys and needed his friends to walk him to the porch.

I pulled open the door, ready to scold him. But it wasn't my father.

Nolan Douglas stood there. For a second, my heart stopped. He looked like a prince from a movie, dressed in a sharp, expensive tuxedo. But then I looked at his face. His eyes were red and glassy, and his jaw was tight with pure hatred. He smelled like expensive whiskey and cold air.

"Are you a gold digger, or just a fucking damn liar?"

His voice was like a whip. I flinched, stepping back into the hallway. I wanted to slam the door, but I was frozen. April must have told him. She must have told him I was pregnant. I thought he would be happy to be able to get rid of me. He had to know the dates didn't match. He had to know the baby wasn't his—or so I hoped.

He didn't step inside. He just stood there, looking me up and down with disgust. "You look like hell, Gwen," he spat. "I thought pregnant women were supposed to glow. You just look cheap and tired."

"Mr. Douglas, I assume," I whispered. My voice was small. This was the man behind the mask. The sweet Nolan I had fallen for was gone. This man was cruel.

"Oh, shut up," he snapped. "Don't try to act like the victim. What's the plan? What's the big game you're playing with me and my daughter?"

"There is no game, Nolan."

"No?" He took a step closer, looming over me. "Did you take everything I taught you in bed and go find someone else the next day to fuck? Is that how it works? You get a taste of the high life and then go spread your legs for the next guy who can pay your rent?"

I swallowed hard. I had to lie to keep my secret, but the words felt like lead in my mouth.

"Answer me!" he barked. "Did you see a rich, single dad and think you hit the jackpot? Was I just a paycheck to you?"

I tried to look angry, but I was mostly just terrified. If he knew the truth—that the baby was his—he wouldn't just walk away. He would destroy me. He would take the baby, just like he took April from her mother.

"You're just looking for a reason to hate me," I said, my voice shaking. "You're self-centered. If you actually cared about me, you’d know I’m not like that. And why do you care who I spread my leg to fuck? I bet you've had a different girl’s in your bed every night since New Year's."

His face twisted into a snarl. "None. I haven't touched anyone. And that’s your fucking fault."

I blinked, confused. "What does that even mean?"

Across the street, a neighbor’s porch light flicked on. Then another. People were starting to watch. I didn't want a scene, but I wasn't about to let this drunk, mean man into my house.

"Are you drunk?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm drunk. Because looking at your face while sober makes me want to be sick," he said. He laughed, but it was a dark, ugly sound. "You think you're some special 'femme fatale,' don't you? You think you have some magical hold on me. You played the 'innocent schoolgirl' act so well."

"You have a terrible memory, Nolan," I said. I was trembling so hard I had to grip the doorframe.

"My memory is fine," he sneered. He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. "I see it all now. You knew I'd be at that shop before Christmas. You knew I liked pretty things. You knew exactly when April wouldn't show up to the cabin. You set the trap, and I walked right into it like a fool."

"What do you want, Nolan? Why are you here?"

"I want you out of my fucking head!" he screamed.

"Then go! I did what you wanted. I stayed away. I haven't called. I haven't texted. You're the one stalking me at my house at midnight!"

He jerked back as if I’d slapped him. "I don’t stalk women, Gwen. I don't have to. I can have anyone I want. Women far better than you. Women who don't lie about who they're fucking."

I closed my eyes. It hurt so much that he only saw me as a sex tool. "Then why are you here?"

"I don't like being played," he growled. "I came here to tell you to stay away from April. Stay away from my family. You're a mistake I'm done making."

"Fine," I said, finding a spark of strength. "Then let me give you some advice. It's the same thing you told me on New Year’s. Stay the fuck away from me."

I didn't wait for him to speak. I slammed the door and turned the locks—one, two, three. I leaned my back against the wood and slid down until I was sitting on the floor.

The silence of the house rushed back in, but my ears were still ringing with his insults. He thought I was a whore. He thought I was a thief. I clutched my stomach, shivering. He was gone for now, but the terror remained. If he ever found out the truth, this was only the beginning.