All Chapters of THE WRONG MAN'S BABY: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Ariana's Pov The satin clings to me like chains. The gown is heavy, suffocating, and no matter how many times the stylist fusses with the pins at my waist, it still feels wrong.“Lift your chin,” she says lightly, her voice too cheerful. “Yes, perfect. The camera will love you in this one.”The camera. Always the damn cameras.I stare at my reflection—long veil trailing, bodice tight across my ribs, white silk swallowing me whole. It isn’t me staring back. It’s the version the world wants to see: the manipulator bride, the scandalous fiancée, the woman who fooled two brothers.My throat aches. I try to breathe. I can’t.The door slams.“Get your filthy hands off her!”The voice punches through the air like a blade, and the pins slip from the stylist’s lips.Adrian.I whip around, heart in my throat. He fills the doorway, hair a mess, shirt half-buttoned, fury rolling off him in waves. The stink of alcohol clings to him, sharp and raw. Behind him, flashes explode—the paparazzi, circli

Ariana's Pov At first, I ignore it.A pinch. A tightening low in my stomach. Nothing I can’t handle.I press my hand against the fabric of my dress, shifting in my seat as Damian takes a call across the room. His voice is steady, clipped, rattling off numbers and instructions I can’t even follow.It comes again. Sharper this time.I bite the inside of my cheek, willing it away. Just stress, I tell myself. Just the weight of the cameras, the rumors, the endless fittings. Just everything crushing me at once.But when Damian hangs up and looks over, his eyes narrow instantly. He always notices. Always.“What is it?” His voice cuts through the air, sharp.“Nothing.” I force a smile. “I’m fine.”His gaze drops to my hand pressed against my stomach. His jaw tightens. “Don’t lie to me.”“I said it’s fine,” I snap. The words sound too loud, too defensive.Another cramp seizes me, harder than before. I gasp, folding slightly, gripping the armrest.In two strides, Damian is at my side, crouchi

Damian’s POVThe first flash hits before we even step out of the car.I should be used to it by now—the chaos, the noise, the press lunging for headlines but tonight it grates on my nerves. Ariana’s still pale from the hospital. She shouldn’t be here.But she insisted. Said she wouldn’t hide anymore.The photographers scream our names as I help her out of the car. My hand wraps around hers, and I can feel the slight tremor in her fingers. She’s putting on a brave face, chin up, lips painted soft pink, hair swept to one side. But I know fear when I see it.“Smile,” I murmur, leaning close enough that only she can hear.She doesn’t look up. “You smile. I’m busy surviving.”A reluctant laugh escapes me. God, even now she’s stubborn.We move through the flashing chaos, toward the crimson-lit entrance of the ballroom. Every question is a bullet:“Is it true she had a pregnancy scare?”“Damian, are you still in contact with Adrian?”“Ariana, do you regret saying yes?”A muscle jumps in my j

Ariana’s POVThe day starts like every other: quiet tension and the sound of Damian’s phone buzzing with messages he won’t explain.He’s been distant for days—cold one minute, kind the next, like he’s fighting a battle I can’t see. And every time I try to reach him, he pulls further away.This morning, though, something’s different. He’s dressed, packed, pacing the length of the living room with the kind of restlessness that feels dangerous.“Where are you going?” I ask from the doorway, trying to keep my voice even.His eyes flick up, sharp and unreadable. “We’re going away.”We.That one word throws me off. “What do you mean, away?”He checks his watch, already moving. “The city’s a mess. The paparazzi know too much, the staff’s leaking stories, and Adrian’s…” He stops himself, jaw tight. “It’s not safe here right now.”“So we’re just… leaving?”“Yes.”“Just like that?”He meets my gaze. “You need rest. You said you wanted quiet. I’m giving you that.”“But Damian, what about your me

Damian’s POVFor once, the house breathes.Ariana’s laughter drifts from the kitchen—soft, real. She’s arguing with the cook about pancakes versus fruit bowls, sunlight catching in her hair.For a moment I let myself just watch.Then my phone vibrates on the counter. Unknown number. Again. WHERE ARE YOU HIDING HER, BROTHER?My jaw tightens. Adrian.I delete the message and pocket the phone. Not here. Not now. She deserves this peace.-----It’s mid-afternoon when the world cracks open.The sound hits first, an engine on the gravel drive, tires grinding too fast.Ariana looks up from the terrace table. “You expecting someone?”“No.”I’m already moving when the car door slams.Adrian’s voice cuts through the sea breeze. “Miss me, brother?”He steps out in dark sunglasses and a grin that could bleed. Even the air around him feels wrong.“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand.He shrugs. “Family visit. You didn’t answer my calls. Thought I’d drop by.”Ariana’s hand finds the railin