All Chapters of THE WRONG MAN'S BABY: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Ariana’s POVThe sea is softer this morning, the air sweet with salt and sunlight.For the first time in forever, I wake up smiling.Damian’s gone for an early call, but his mug still sits half-full on the table beside mine. The smell of coffee and ocean mixes in the air—warm, familiar.The baby rolls gently inside me. “You like it here too, huh?” I whisper.Peace. It feels fragile, like glass. Like if I breathe too hard, it’ll shatter.I try not to think about Adrian, about the shadows that always find their way back no matter how far we run.But peace never lasts long in Damian Cole’s world.---It starts with a vibration.My phone buzzes against the table. Unknown number.I almost ignore it until I see the name that makes my blood run cold. How did he even get my number??ADRIAN: Ariana. Please. I need your help.My heart stutters.Another text follows before I can process the first.ADRIAN: I didn’t mean to scare you at the estate. I’m hurt. Car accident. I’m nearby. Please come a

Damien's Pov Her voice is soft but final.“I can’t.”The words echo, small and sharp, like glass cracking in the quiet.I don’t speak. I just watch her, the way her shoulders tense, the way she looks down, like she’s already bracing for me to argue.“I’m not saying never,” she says after a moment. “I’m saying… not like this.”“Not like what?”She takes a shaky breath. “Not when everything between us feels like it’s built on debt and danger. You’ve saved me, Damian. More than once. You’ve protected me when no one else would. But I can’t confuse that with love.”“It’s not confusion,” I say quietly. “It’s truth.”She shakes her head. “It’s gratitude.”“It’s not....” I stop myself. My voice had gone too sharp. I exhale slowly. “Ariana, I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything. That’s not what this is.”“Then what is it?” she asks, eyes searching mine. “You said you love how I care. You said you can’t stop trying to love me. But what happens when the danger’s over? When the baby

Damian’s POVThe Cole mansion has always looked the same, perfect, cold, and hollow.Even as I pull up the long marble driveway, the place feels less like home and more like a museum of everything I used to be. Every stone screams of power, legacy, image. My father’s world. My prison.I kill the engine, step out, and let the silence hit me.The front doors open before I even reach them. The butler, the same man who’s worked here since I was a kid bows stiffly. “Mr. Cole. They’re waiting in the east drawing room.”Of course they are. My parents never fight their battles anywhere small.The drawing room smells of old money and tension. My mother sits by the window, pearls perfectly placed, eyes red but dry. My father stands by the fireplace, hands behind his back, posture carved out of arrogance.When they see me, my mother’s lips tremble slightly. My father doesn’t even blink.“Damian,” she says softly, “you came.”“I always do,” I reply, shutting the door behind me. “You said it was u

Ariana's Pov The ballroom is too bright.Crystal chandeliers drip from the ceiling like frozen rain, and everything smells like perfume and power. Waiters glide between the guests with silver trays, laughter rising and falling like music that doesn’t quite reach my heart.I hate these things. Always have.But Damian insisted we come.“It’s for the foundation,” he’d said, straightening his tie. “If I skip, they’ll assume we’re hiding.”Now I stand beside him, dressed in pale silk and nerves, pretending I belong.Eyes follow us wherever we go. Whispers trail behind like perfume.That’s her.The one from the headlines.The wrong brother’s woman.I force a smile when people greet me, nod when they mention how “brave” I am. But every word feels rehearsed, every glance sharpened by judgment.Damian keeps a hand at my back, steady and protective. “You’re doing fine,” he murmurs.“Liar,” I whisper back.His lips twitch. “Maybe. But you’re still doing fine.”I almost laugh. Almost.Half an ho

Ariana’s POVThe storm passes quietly this time.No reporters outside. No angry phone calls. No public scenes.Just the ocean, whispering against the cliffs like it’s trying to lull us both into believing the chaos is finally over.It’s not. I know that. But for now, it feels close enough.I’m in the garden when Damian finds me , his hair damp from the sea air, feet bare in the grass. The sun’s still low, painting everything in gold.He stops a few feet away, holding something behind his back. “You disappeared on me.”“I needed quiet,” I say. “You snore too loudly.”He laughs softly. “That’s a lie.”“I know,” I admit. “But it sounded funny.”He steps closer, his shadow falling across mine. “You look like you’re thinking too much.”“I’m always thinking too much.”“That’s true,” he says. “Want to think about something else for a change?”I raise a brow. “Like what?”He hesitates which instantly makes me suspicious. “What’s behind your back?”“Nothing illegal,” he says.“That’s not comfo