Chapter 3

By the time we got home, the feeling in my legs had finally returned. I was practically bouncing again. Humming some off-key tune, I wandered into the living room to tackle the mountain of packages that had piled up over the past few days.

Because honestly, no matter how your day's going, tearing into unopened parcels always gives you a small dopamine hit.

The first two boxes were nothing special, just some random gadgets I barely remembered ordering. But when I opened the third box, several packs of sanitary pads stared right back at me.

My mind went blank. The thing I'd been desperately trying to ignore hit me like a ton of bricks—the late period and that positive pregnancy test from earlier.

I dropped the pads like they were on fire, grabbed my phone, and bolted for the door.

Zane had just entered when I reached the door, and he asked while removing his shoes, "Where are you going?"

I avoided his gaze. "I've been inside all day. Just going out for a quick walk, get some fresh air."

He gave me a long, searching look but didn't press or stop me.

I walked a few blocks, weaving through side streets until I found a nearby 24-hour pharmacy. Slipping inside like I was doing something illegal, I bought another pregnancy test, shoved it in my pocket, and rushed back home.

Once inside, I went straight to the bathroom, locked the door, tore open the box, and carefully followed the instructions.

And the result? Two bold red lines again.

I was indeed pregnant. No more hoping I'd read it wrong the first time.

I slid down the cold tile wall, sitting on the floor with my legs weak as jelly, feeling completely drained. That's when Zane knocked, asking why I locked the door, then everything else just spiraled from there.

What the hell am I supposed to do now?

Back in bed, I snapped back to reality, staring blankly at the ceiling. My mind was a tangled mess, and I kept tossing and turning, flipping like a pancake on a skillet. Eventually, I gave up on sleep and started scrolling through my phone, searching for things like unplanned pregnancy, early abortion options, and the best local clinics.

There were too many posts, too many horror stories, and way too much conflicting advice. It was overwhelming. Still, after sifting through the noise, I finally landed on a well-reviewed private hospital nearby and booked a checkup appointment for the next day.

Just as I received the confirmation message, the bedroom door swung open. Zane came out of the shower, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Water droplets slid down the ridges of his abs, catching the bedroom light like some annoyingly perfect cologne commercial.

My heart skipped a beat. I quickly switched my screen back to the farming game, pretending I'd been absorbed in it the whole time.

My eyes stayed glued to the screen, but my attention kept drifting toward him.

At the same time, it felt like my brain was stuffed with cotton—thick, foggy, and impossible to clear.

In-game, my little pixel farm was falling apart because of a dumb mistake I'd made. I was just about to curse myself when a pair of strong arms wrapped around me from behind, and a warm breath brushed the side of my neck.

Zane kissed the back of my neck, soft and teasing, just enough to make my skin tingle.

"Baby," he said, voice lazy and husky from the shower, "you looked at me twelve times in the last five minutes."

Wait, what? Twelve? I didn't even realize I'd done it that many times.

I forced myself to focus, turned toward him, and wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to act like everything was totally normal. "So what? I wasn't just looking. I want a kiss, too."

Then I kissed him first.

Zane's lips were soft, cool from the shower. He knew exactly what he was doing—or maybe we just knew each other's rhythm too well by now.

Usually, I would flirt just enough to rile him up, then let him take over to deepen the kiss, steal my breath, and make me forget why I even started it.

Tonight was no different. His kiss was intense, laced with a quiet kind of possessiveness that made it hard to think.

Caught in the haze of his warmth, I gently broke the kiss. My gaze lingered on him, and without thinking, my fingertips traced the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone, the structure I knew so well.

God, this man. His face, his body—it was like his parents pooled together every superior gene and handed them straight to him. If we had a baby, it'd probably be gorgeous.

I shut that thought down immediately.

Still slightly breathless, I leaned into his chest and asked, almost without thinking, "Zane, what do you think about children born out of wedlock?"

He paused. His brows drew together slightly, and his voice turned cold with disapproval. "Hate it."

I knew it. Of course, he would say that.

So much for the idea of keeping the baby.

I was an illegitimate kid myself. My mother had me out of wedlock, and both my parents spent years hiding me away like a secret. If I had this child, it would be another generation of shame.

A child born to be hidden. Would Zane be disgusted? Probably.

Trying to sound casual, I probed a little further. "But what if, just hypothetically, you found out you had a kid you didn't know about?"

"Not a chance," Zane said with absolute finality.

I pushed again. "Just humor me. What if?"

Without warning, Zane caught the hand I'd been resting on his cheek, pinned it above my head, and wrapped his other arm tight around my waist, pulling me against him.

"I'd handle it," he said, voice cold and flat.

My stomach dropped. Holding my breath, I asked slowly, "What do you mean, handle it?"

He leaned in, voice chilling. "I'll make sure both mother and child disappear."

His words pierced straight through me like frozen needles.

Before I could even react, he tugged roughly at my nightgown. The fabric tore with a sharp rip that sounded deafening in the quiet room.

His mouth came crashing down on mine again, lips hot and forceful, biting down like punishment. "I don't like such hypotheticals," he growled, his voice rough.

He tilted my chin up, making me look straight into his eyes. "Say it again, and I'll make you regret it."

Sir, are you secretly moonlighting in a mafia romance? Who threatens their girlfriends like that?

The panic snapped me back to full alert. I suddenly felt his hands going somewhere, and the sensation hit me like a bolt of lightning.

First trimester. Didn't every article warn about avoiding sex early in pregnancy?

"Wait, stop. Hold on." I grabbed his wrists, my voice cracking. "Zane, I'm not feeling great tonight. Can we not do this? Maybe… try something else?"

I slipped out of his hold and dropped to my knees beside the bed, sinking into the plush carpet. I looked up at him with my best innocent, wide-eyed look.

But instead of letting it go, Zane easily lifted me off the floor, his brows furrowing. He touched my forehead, glanced at the calendar on the nightstand, then narrowed his eyes.

"Not feeling well? Where exactly?" He pulled me into his arms again and pressed a warm hand to my lower stomach. "Your period's late, isn't it? Are you having cramps?"

Before I could respond, he muttered, "I'll get you some painkillers."

"No, no!" I quickly grabbed his hand. "It's not cramps. I'm just feeling kind of… off. That's all."

He gave me a long, piercing stare, like he was trying to read straight through me. Eventually, he seemed to accept my excuse.

Then, gently, he started rubbing my stomach through the fabric of my nightdress.

Even though I wasn't in pain, it felt surprisingly comforting.

Warmth gradually spread through me as drowsiness set in. I yawned, then mumbled sleepily, "So you don't need any help tonight?"

Zane leaned down and gave my earlobe a playful bite, a little harder than usual, laced with warning.

"If you're not feeling well, sleep," he said, voice smooth, low, and laced with mischief. "Quit thinking about all that naughty nonsense, you little tease."

Excuse me? That's not true.

I wasn't thinking about anything.

And, exactly who's the tease here?