Chapter 1

I lay bare on the C-section table, quietly savoring the brilliance of my "keep the baby, discard the father" plan.

Ten months ago, I chose the target, took Chandler away, and finished everything in a single night.

'It's perfect. If the baby inherited Chandler's features, the child would be beautiful no matter the gender.'

"You really thought this through. Using a baby to climb your way up."

That voice. That deep, sinful baritone. It shocked me so much I nearly pushed through the anesthesia.

The next second, the very eyes I had been daydreaming about appeared above a blue surgical mask as Chandler approached with a scalpel in hand. He walked to the space between my legs as if he belonged there.

'What is happening right now? Wasn't this supposed to be clean and simple? Baby kept, father gone? Why is the child here, yet the father standing right in front of me?'

My heart monitor was going wilder than the stock market right now.

The anesthesiologist practically jumped over, fumbling to check my vitals, muttering, "Don't stress, just relax, take a deep breath. Dr. Manning hasn't even started yet."

'Oh, give me a break,' I grumbled to myself. 'That's exactly why I'm losing it. I'm about to drop dead right here.'

I locked my eyes on him as he strode over. Those dreamy eyes I'd just been obsessing about now looked cold and distant behind his glasses, sending chills straight through me.

"Dr... Dr. Manning?" I stammered, barely able to get the words out. "Why are you the one here?"

Chandler stepped right up between my exposed legs, looking down at me from above. "What else did you expect?

"You schemed so hard to have my kid. Wasn't this exactly what you wanted? For me to cut you open myself and see just how real your intentions are?"

I was stunned. 'Dude, who are you? It was just a one-night stand. Why are you taking it this far? Are we seriously catching feelings now?'

I swear, that night at the bar, I only picked him because he was hot, had killer vibes, and was a total pro at every game, like some high-IQ genius.

I just wanted to give my future kid a genetic upgrade. Who actually digs into a hookup's background or what they do for a living?

"I... I swear I don't even know you." The anesthesia was kicking in, my mind starting to blur, but panic had me desperately trying to explain.

Chandler gave a cold, dismissive snort. "Don't know me? Then how did you manage to find the one bar I only ever hit on my Tuesdays off?

"How did you spike my drink? And how did you end up in my bed till morning, leaving your mark all over my place?"

I froze. 'Damn, that's way too much info. My brain just blue-screened.

'Spiked his drink? Evidence? Was my baby supposed to be a one-night surprise, hit it and quit it, or is this some wild setup?

'But I swear I didn't do any of that! Did my whole "baby, no dad" plan just totally blow up in my face?'

"Increase the dose. Knock her out," Chandler ordered.

'What the hell? More anesthesia? Dude, are you trying to kill me?' I fought to keep my eyes open, desperate to see his face behind the mask, but my eyelids felt like they had weights tied to them.

"Chandler Manning." I heard him say right by my ear as I started to fade.

"Remember that name. If you ever want to set foot in the Manning family," Chandler added.

*****

When I came to, it was the pain that jolted me awake.

The wound in my lower belly felt like a million ants were gnawing at it, burning, stinging, and relentless.

Rowena gripped my hand, her eyes red and swollen. "Janice, you're finally awake. You scared the hell out of me."

"Water..." My throat was so parched it felt like I could cough up dust.

Rowena grabbed a cotton swab, dipped it in water, and hurried to wet my lips.

"Where's the baby?" I croaked out.

"He's in the incubator. He is a chubby little guy, seven pounds six ounces, healthy as can be," Rowena blurted out, relief and excitement all over her face.

I tried to smile, but the movement tugged at my wound, making me suck in a sharp breath from the pain.

"Rowena, get the nurse. I need the pain relief button. This hurts like hell," I begged.

"I already did. It's useless." Rowena stomped her foot in frustration.

Rowena added, "That surgeon of yours, Chandler, has zero bedside manners. He left instructions saying your body doesn't respond to anesthesia like normal people, and giving you more painkillers is too risky. So basically, he told you to just grit your teeth and deal with it."

'Bullshit! My cousin was on the pain pump for three days after her C-section. She had so much milk she could've fed twins,' I fumed to myself.

"Like hell I'm putting up with this," I snapped.

Just as I was cursing him out, the door to my hospital room swung open. Chandler walked in, like he owned the place and all eyes on him.

He wore his white coat like it was a designer suit, those gold-rimmed glasses making him look like the ultimate bad boy in a good boy's disguise.

A bunch of chattering nurses trailed behind him.