Chapter 3 THE Truth That Changes Everything

Adrian stared at her, unable to speak.

The world around him went still. The wind on the rooftop rustled the trees in their planters. A taxi honked far below. Somewhere, someone laughed. But none of it reached him.

Only her words echoed in his mind.

"I was carrying your child, Adrian."

He swallowed, but his throat was dry. His voice, when it came, was low. Disbelieving

"...What?"

Amelia didn't flinch this time. She had braced for this-for his rage, his disbelief, his cold silence. But it still hurt. She had rehearsed this moment so many times. And now that it was here, it didn't feel strong enough. It just felt real.

"You heard me."

His eyes were wide now, unguarded. "You... You were pregnant? With my child?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes. I found out a week after I left."

Adrian took a step back, like he'd been physically struck.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" His voice cracked, louder now, accusing.

Amelia's voice was quiet, steady. "Because you'd already made your choice. You pushed me away. You chose power. Image. Secrecy. You chose to erase me."

His hands clenched at his sides. "That's not-You left, Amelia! You left without a word. No letter. No call. I woke up and you were gone! Do you have any idea what that did to me?"

She took a shaky breath. "And do you have any idea what it felt like, being your secret? Hiding like I was a shameful stain on your perfect life? I couldn't live like that. Not for me. Not for a child."

Adrian looked away, jaw tight. The skyline behind him shimmered, blurred by emotions he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.

He couldn't deny it. He had made her invisible. No wedding announcement. No introduction to the world. Not even to his family. He thought he was protecting her from the vicious press, from the chaos of his world.

But in doing so, he had made her feel small. Forgotten. Replaceable.

And now... now she was telling him he had a child.

"How old?" he asked, voice low.

"Five," she whispered. "His name is Liam."

He looked at her again, this time with something deeper in his eyes. Wonder. Pain. Regret.

"Does he know about me?"

"No." Her voice broke. "I told him his father died. I didn't want him to grow up wondering why he wasn't wanted."

Adrian's chest heaved. "You had no right to take that choice from me."

"And you had no right to take my voice from me!" she snapped, finally raising her voice. "You made all the decisions. You kept me in the shadows like a shameful mistake. I did what I had to do to protect my son from that same pain."

Silence fell again.

Only this time, it was heavy with grief.

They stood there-two broken people, shaped by pride, fear, and the consequences of silence.

Adrian took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Where is he?"

"In Boston. With my friend Emma. He's safe. He's happy. He's smart, Adrian... so smart. And he looks so much like you it hurts sometimes."

He lowered himself slowly onto a bench, his legs suddenly weak.

"I have a son," he said aloud, as if saying it would make it real. "Five years of his life... and I wasn't there."

Amelia watched him. She hadn't come to hurt him. But this moment-this truth-was one they both had to face. She had carried it alone for too long.

Adrian looked up at her.

"Let me meet him."

She blinked. "What?"

"I want to see him. Talk to him. Know him."

She hesitated. "Not yet."

"Why not?" His voice sharpened again. "He's my son."

"And I'm still not sure I can trust you," she said quietly. "You're not the man I married anymore. And I don't know what you'll do if I hand you the biggest part of my world."

His eyes narrowed. "You think I'd hurt him?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I don't know anything about the man you've become."

He stood then, his expression unreadable. "Then learn. Give me that chance."

She turned her back to him and walked to the edge of the rooftop. The city lights reflected in her eyes like stars.

"I'll think about it," she said finally. "But this doesn't change what you did to me. To us. We're not the same, Adrian."

He nodded slowly. "No. But maybe we can find out who we are now."

The next morning, the office was quieter than usual. Amelia moved through the halls like a shadow. Whispers followed her-not because anyone knew what had happened, but because something had shifted. The tension between her and Adrian was now palpable.

He didn't call her into his office again.

Instead, he watched from afar. Reserved. Controlled.

But beneath that stillness, his mind was spinning.

He had a son.

A living, breathing child he'd never held, never taught to throw a ball, never kissed goodnight. And for the first time in years, he didn't care about quarterly reports or stock fluctuations.

He wanted to know Liam.

And Amelia.

He had never stopped wanting her.

That night, he drove alone to a quiet street in Brooklyn, parking across from a small townhouse. He sat there, engine off, heart racing.

Then the front door opened.

A small boy ran down the porch steps, giggling, a crayon drawing fluttering in his hand. His hair was messy, his smile wide, his laugh piercing through the glass of Adrian's car like a memory reborn.

Then a woman followed-the friend, Emma, probably-and gently called him back inside.

The boy turned.

And Adrian saw it.

His own eyes.

His own smirk.

His own damn face on a smaller, brighter, innocent version.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly.

"Liam," he whispered.

It was real.

He was real.

Adrian Blackwood had a son.

Back in her apartment, Amelia stared at her phone, her fingers hesitating over Adrian's number. She had promised herself she'd keep Liam safe. Away from his father's cold world. But after seeing Adrian's face on that rooftop-shocked, hurting, human-she felt something she hadn't expected:

Hope.

Maybe this didn't have to end in pain.

Maybe, just maybe, they could rewrite what had been broken.

The phone rang.

It was him.

She answered.

"Come to my penthouse," he said simply. "Please. We need to talk."

Her heart thudded.

"Okay."

Half an hour later, she stepped into the space she once knew intimately. The penthouse hadn't changed. Sleek marble. Clean lines. Cold furniture. The scent of his cologne still clung to the air. It brought memories flooding back-good ones, bad ones.

He stood by the window, hands in his pockets, as always.

"You went to see him," she said quietly.

"I did."

"You had no right."

"I had every right," he said calmly. "He's my son."

She didn't argue. Not this time.

"I want to be in his life, Amelia," Adrian said, stepping closer. "Not as some ghost or secret. As his father."

Her throat tightened. "I need time."

"You've had five years," he said softly. "Give me five minutes. With him."

She searched his face, looking for the man she once loved.

And she found him.

Buried beneath the power, the pain, the mistakes... he was still there.

Maybe he always had been.

She nodded, slowly. "Tomorrow. I'll bring him."

He let out a shaky breath. "Thank you."

She turned to leave, but he spoke again.

"I never stopped loving you, Amelia."

She paused.

"I loved you too," she said.

Then walked out, leaving the door-and their hearts-cracked slightly open.