Chapter 3 CROSSING PATHS AGAIN

Ariana's POV

I hate clinics.

The smell of antiseptic clings to the air, sharp and sterile, making me want to gag. The waiting room is too quiet, just the sound of a woman flipping through a worn magazine and the faint hum of the vending machine in the corner. I sit with my bag clutched tight against my stomach, trying to keep my breathing steady.

My name will be called any second. I should feel relieved-I'm finally going to hear about the baby, confirm that everything is okay. But instead, dread coils inside me.

Because now my life isn't just mine anymore.

"Miss Blake?"

The nurse's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. She smiles politely, clipboard in hand.

I force my legs to move. "That's me."

As I stand, I feel the weight of eyes on me. Maybe it's paranoia. Maybe it's just guilt. But the humiliation from last night still clings to my skin like smoke. By now, surely half the city has seen the videos.

I swallow hard and follow the nurse down the narrow hallway.

Then I freeze.

He's here.

Damian Cole.

Leaning against the wall like he owns it, his suit black, tie loosened just enough to make him look dangerous instead of polished. His gaze is sharp, locked on me the moment I appear, like he's been waiting.

My chest tightens. My first instinct is to turn and run.

"You've got to be kidding me," I mutter under my breath.

He straightens, calm, unreadable. "Miss Blake."

I cross my arms. "What are you doing here? Stalking me now?"

One corner of his mouth lifts-not quite a smile, more like a taunt. "You storm into my restaurant, slap me in front of half the city, scream that you're pregnant, and somehow I'm the stalker?"

My cheeks heat. "It wasn't your restaurant."

"It might as well have been," he says smoothly. "Half the board members from my company eat there. Half the city's elite. Do you know how fast a story spreads in my world?"

I grit my teeth. "This isn't about your world. This is my life."

The nurse looks between us, awkward. "Is everything alright?"

"Perfectly fine," Damian says smoothly, with a smile that could sell lies for a living.

I want to scream.

The nurse hesitates, then gestures toward a door. "This way, Miss Blake."

I walk past Damian, brushing so close my shoulder nearly hits his. He doesn't move an inch. Of course he doesn't.

Inside the exam room, I sit on the paper-covered bed, fidgeting with the hem of my dress. The walls are blank, the kind of place designed to keep emotions out. I can't. My chest feels too tight.

Then the door creaks open again.

Damian steps in.

I glare. "Excuse me? You can't just barge in here."

"I can." He closes the door behind him, leaning against it casually. "Unless you'd rather discuss your pregnancy in front of the press outside."

My stomach drops. "There's no press here."

"Not yet." He shrugs. "But word travels. Do you really want to bet on your privacy?"

I groan, burying my face in my hands. "Why are you like this?"

"Like what?"

"Cold. Detached. Acting like this is just another boardroom meeting you need to control."

His jaw ticks, but his voice stays even. "Because I've spent my life cleaning up Adrian's messes. It's easier not to feel anything."

Before I can reply, the door opens again and the doctor steps in. Middle-aged, kind eyes, warm smile. "Miss Blake. How are we feeling today?"

I force a small smile. "Nervous."

"That's normal." He gestures for me to lean back. "We'll run some checks. Nothing to worry about."

Damian doesn't leave. He stays in the corner, arms folded, eyes trained on me like a hawk.

The doctor takes my blood pressure, asks questions, makes notes. I answer softly, my throat tight.

Then he asks it.

"Is the father involved?"

The question pierces me. Shame, anger, heartbreak, everything surges at once.

I shake my head quickly. "No. Just me."

And then Damian's voice cuts in. "She's not alone."

My head snaps toward him. "Excuse me?"

The doctor nods approvingly. "Good. Support makes a big difference."

I glare daggers at Damian, but the doctor is too busy explaining the next steps to notice.

When it's done, the doctor smiles. "The baby is developing well. Just focus on reducing stress. Rest is important."

"Thank you," I whisper, my chest loosening just a little.

The doctor leaves.

The second the door clicks shut, I whip around. "What the hell was that?"

"What?" Damian looks maddeningly calm.

"You telling him I'm not alone. You don't get to say that. You don't get to insert yourself into my life like that."

"I wasn't lying," he says evenly. "You're not alone. Not anymore."

Fury burns in me. "You are not the father. You don't get to play protector because you feel guilty about your brother."

His eyes lock on mine, steady and unflinching. "You're right. I'm not the father. But I also won't stand by while Adrian destroys another life. If he won't take responsibility, someone has to."

My laugh is bitter. "Oh, don't give me that noble act. This isn't about me. This is about your image. Your company. Your spotless name."

His jaw tightens. "Maybe it was at first."

I blink. His words are softer now, almost... dangerous.

"But don't mistake me for Adrian," he continues, voice low. "I don't run. I don't hide. I deal with problems. And right now, Ariana, you're mine to deal with."

The way he says my name makes my breath catch.

I take a step closer, trembling. "Then let me make this clear-you are not welcome in my life. Stay away from me."

I push past him toward the door, but his hand shoots out, catching my wrist. His grip is firm, not cruel. His voice drops, rough, almost raw.

"You won't survive him alone."

For a moment, something flickers in his eyes. Not cold. Not detached. Something else. Something that terrifies me more than Adrian ever could.

I yank my hand free, choking on the lump in my throat. "Watch me."

I storm out of the clinic, my pulse racing, tears burning my eyes.

But his words follow me all the way out into the street.

You won't survive him alone.

And the worst part?

A small, treacherous voice in my chest whispers that maybe, just maybe, he's right.