All Chapters of THE WRONG MAN'S BABY: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Ariana’s POVThe glass doors slam open so hard the hostess gasps, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. My pulse is racing like I’ve just sprinted through traffic, but it’s anger, not fear, that fuels me.I spot him instantly.Damian Cole.He’s impossible to miss. Broad shoulders under a perfectly tailored suit, head tipped back in laughter, a glass of red wine in hand. He looks every bit the untouchable billionaire the tabloids paint him to be.And sitting beside him is her. Vanessa Moore. Blonde, polished, a woman who probably thinks she owns the air in this restaurant.My stomach twists. I shouldn’t be here. I know I shouldn’t. But the image of that pregnancy test won’t leave me. The two pink lines. The way my hands shook so badly I almost dropped it in the sink.And now here he is—laughing like my life isn’t in pieces.“Damian!”The word rips out of me before I can think.Dozens of heads turn. Forks clink against plates and freeze. Music from the grand piano in the corner stutters as th

Ariana’s POV)I hate clinics.The smell of antiseptic clings to the air, sharp and sterile, making me want to gag. The waiting room is too quiet, just the sound of a woman flipping through a worn magazine and the faint hum of the vending machine in the corner. I sit with my bag clutched tight against my stomach, trying to keep my breathing steady.My name will be called any second. I should feel relieved—I’m finally going to hear about the baby, confirm that everything is okay. But instead, dread coils inside me.Because now my life isn’t just mine anymore.“Miss Blake?”The nurse’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. She smiles politely, clipboard in hand.I force my legs to move. “That’s me.”As I stand, I feel the weight of eyes on me. Maybe it’s paranoia. Maybe it’s just guilt. But the humiliation from last night still clings to my skin like smoke. By now, surely half the city has seen the videos.I swallow hard and follow the nurse down the narrow hallway.Then I freeze.He

Damian’s POVThere are moments when I wonder why I don’t just let it all burn.Adrian. His scandals. His messes. His endless trail of chaos that somehow always ends up at my feet.But then I remember the last name we share. Cole. And that name means something. At least, it’s supposed to.Tonight though… watching Ariana Blake storm out of that lounge with tears in her eyes, carrying a baby my brother created and discarded?Something twists in my chest I don’t have a name for.Guilt. Responsibility. Rage.Maybe all three.Adrian slouches back in his seat, pouring another glass of whiskey like none of this matters. “Well, that was fun,” he says, smirking. “I give her credit, a fiery little thing. You sure you don’t want her? She might spice up that cold life of yours.”I want to break the glass in his hand. “She’s carrying your child, Adrian. And you laughed in her face.”He shrugs. “Better she learns now than later. I’m not father material.”“You’re not human material.” My voice is low,

Damian’s POVThe Cole estate hasn’t changed in twenty years.It sits on the highest hill like a monument to pride, its sprawling gardens manicured within an inch of their lives. White columns, black iron gates, marble floors polished until they shine. The same as it’s always been.Most people see power when they look at this house. I see chains.The driver slows to a stop in front of the grand staircase. Through the tall windows of the drawing room, I can already see them waiting. My father pacing, fists tight at his sides. My mother sitting gracefully on the couch, pearls at her throat and a glass of white wine in her hand. They look like royalty ready to judge their heir.I adjust my tie, not because I care but because they’ll notice if I don’t, and step inside.The drawing room smells like old money and judgment.My father wheels on me the second I enter, newspaper in his hand, crumpled from being read and reread. My mother’s gaze flicks over me, sharp, assessing, like she’s search

Damian’s POVThe internet is a vulture.By the time I arrive at my office Monday morning, the story has already mutated into a dozen versions.One clip shows Ariana storming into the restaurant, slapping me hard enough to turn my head. Another angle catches Vanessa walking out in tears. And of course, someone managed to record Ariana shouting about being pregnant.Now the headlines scream across every screen in the lobby:“Damian Cole’s Double Life Exposed?”“Mystery Woman Claims Pregnancy Scandal.”“Cole Empire Rocked by Explosive Dinner Scene.”I stride past the stares of my employees. Phones are discreetly lowered when I catch them watching. Whispers follow me down the corridor like smoke.By the time I reach my office, my phone won’t stop buzzing. The board. Investors. My PR team. Everyone wants answers.I slam the phone on my desk, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city stretches out beneath me, glittering and alive, but today it feels like a predator.This isn’t just