All Chapters of THE WRONG MAN'S BABY: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Ariana's PovAdrian stares at me like I’ve slapped him. Maybe I have, but not with my hand, but with truth.For the first time, I see it, not anger, not arrogance. Just something hollow.Then he laughs, sharp and bitter.“You sound just like him,” he sneers. “Cold. Self-righteous. Think you’re better than me because you picked the right twin?”“I didn’t pick anyone,” I snap. “I survived you.”The words hang there, raw and final.Gasps echo around the room. Every camera is pointed at us now.Adrian’s face twists, pride, pain, jealousy all tangled into something ugly.He takes a step forward. Security shifts.Damian moves faster. His arm goes around me, pulling me back. “Don’t.”Adrian points at him, shouting, “She’s not yours! None of this is yours! You took everything from me!”Damian’s voice is calm, but the calm that comes before destruction. “I didn’t take it. You threw it away.”Adrian’s hand jerks, like he might strike again and this time, I don’t hide behind Damian.I step for

Damian’s POV The hospital doors fly open before the ambulance stops moving. They wheel her inside, shouting codes and measurements I can’t follow. I walk beside the stretcher until a nurse blocks me. “Sir, you have to wait outside.” “The hell I do.....” “Please.” Her tone isn’t sharp, just firm enough to cut through the panic. “We need space.” Ariana’s hand slips from mine as they push her through a set of glass doors. I stand there stupidly, breathing hard, palms empty. The doors close. Silence hits like a punch. Time turns to water. Every second stretches, bends, disappears. I pace until my chest hurts. Coffee in a paper cup goes cold in my hand. Rain smears the window, and I count every drop because it’s the only thing that moves slower than my thoughts. When the doctor finally steps out, I nearly run to him. “She’s stable,” he says, calm as stone. “It was pre-term labor, triggered by stress. We’ve stopped the contractions for now. She’ll need medication and strict

Ariana's Pov That night the rain doesn’t stop.It slides down the windows in thin silver sheets, the ocean beyond it restless and loud.Damian hasn’t spoken much since Adrian left; neither have I.We move around each other in silence, him locking the doors, me turning off lights, like two people trying to protect what’s left of the world we built.When I finally sink onto the couch, exhaustion hits all at once. The confrontation keeps replaying in my head: Adrian’s voice, the twisted half-truths, the way he looked when he realized I didn’t believe him anymore. A part of me still aches for what he could have been, but most of me just feels free.Damian stands near the window, shoulders rigid, phone forgotten in his hand.“Say it,” I whisper.He doesn’t turn. “Say what?”“Whatever you’re thinking.”He exhales. “I’m thinking I should’ve made sure he never got close again.”“You can’t fight every shadow, Damian.”He finally looks at me, eyes tired. “That’s exactly what I do.”“Then stop.

Damian’s POV I haven’t slept in days.Work doesn’t hold me anymore; numbers blur, meetings turn into noise.The house is too quiet, her voice still in the walls.When she left, she took the air with her.I told myself giving her space was love.That if I stayed away, she could breathe again.But space became distance, and distance turned into something worse—silence.Two weeks.That’s how long it takes to realize peace without her isn’t peace at all.Hale finds her for me.He doesn’t ask questions; he just slides an address across the desk.“She’s safe,” he says. “Don’t make it worse.”“I won’t,” I lie.The building is small, brick fading to gray, tucked between a laundromat and a grocery store.Normal. Ordinary.I park down the street, sit there for a long time with my hands on the wheel.You shouldn’t be here.You promised to let her go.But my heart doesn’t listen anymore.I climb the stairs, each step heavier than the last.Her door is at the end of the hall—number 12, paint chi

TWO MONTHS LATER Ariana’s POV It starts with a sound.A low, sharp pop that wakes me before the pain does.At first I think it’s a dream.Then warmth spreads down my leg and the sheets turn damp.“Damian,” I whisper.He’s asleep beside me, arm heavy across my waist.“Damian.”He stirs, mumbles something, still half-dreaming.I shake him harder. “Damian!”His eyes snap open instantly. “What’s wrong?”“My water broke.”For a heartbeat, we just stare at each other, like neither of us believes it’s finally happening.Then his training kicks in.“Okay,” he says, already moving, voice calm but eyes wide. “Okay. Hospital bag’s ready. Shoes. Coat.”Another contraction hits. Sharp. Real. My breath catches.He’s beside me in a second. “Breathe, love. Just breathe.”“It hurts,” I gasp.“I know. We’re going. Hold on.”The next few minutes blur—hands, shoes, keys, the sound of rain hammering the windows again.He helps me down the stairs slowly, one arm wrapped around me, the other gripping t