Chasing My Exiled Secret Baby Mama

Danika Brewer jerked her eyes open and pulled the silk sheet up to her collarbone. A brutal hangover pounded behind her temples as the blinding Manhattan morning light flooded the penthouse suite. Cold cedar scent lingered on the fabric, belonging to a complete stranger.

A heavy, muscular arm rested across her bare waist. Her vision blurred with panic as she stiffly turned her neck, coming face-to-face with a sleeping man whose jawline looked carved from stone.

She sucked in a sharp breath and inched toward the edge of the mattress to escape the crime scene, but her elbow knocked against the nightstand.

The crystal water glass tumbled off the edge and hit the thick wool rug with a dull thud. Before she could scramble off the bed, the heavy arm around her waist flexed and yanked her backward against a broad, scorching chest.

Domenic Reid opened his eyes. There was no morning grogginess in those sharp, gray-blue irises, only a crushing weight of scrutiny as he looked down at the trembling girl trapped in his arms.

Danika pressed her palms flat against his pecs, the heat of his skin making her face burn.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, pushing against him to create space.

Domenic let out a short, cold scoff. He released her waist and rolled out of bed in one fluid motion, exposing a broad back marked with several fresh, red fingernail scratches.

He bent down, picked up his tailored black trousers from the carpet, and stepped into them without sparing her a single glance, acting as if the madness of the previous night had never happened.

Danika pulled the silk sheet tight against her chest, her eyes stinging with shame. She bit her lower lip hard and scanned the floor for the cheap floral dress she had worn the night before.

Domenic walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, pulled a silver mechanical watch from his suit jacket pocket, and snapped the clasp shut around his left wrist. The metallic click echoed through the quiet room.

He turned around, his tall frame blocking the sunlight and casting a long shadow over the bed.

"Last night was an accident," Domenic said, his voice deep and flat. "Troublesome follow-ups are not something I tolerate."

Danika felt her stomach drop. She twisted the silk sheet in her fists and tilted her chin up to meet his gaze.

"It was an accident for me too, sir," she said, her voice shaking but clear. "I won't bother you."

Domenic raised a single eyebrow, seemingly surprised by her pushback. He walked back to the edge of the mattress and leaned down, the heavy scent of cedar and tobacco wrapping around her throat.

His long, cold fingers gripped her chin, forcing her head up as a dark glint flashed in his gray-blue eyes.

"Just so you don't get any romantic illusions," he murmured, his thumb brushing the corner of her jaw, "I have very destructive habits. Staying away from me is in your best interest."

Tears pooled in her eyes from the pressure on her jaw. She wrenched her face out of his grip and took a ragged breath.

"Please leave now. I need to get dressed."

Domenic stared at her for a second longer before straightening his spine. He walked over to the solid wood desk, picked up the landline, and dialed a quick extension.

"Extend the reservation on this penthouse for three more days and put it on my tab," he told the hotel butler on the other end. "And send up warm milk and a light breakfast."

Danika stared at his back, her chest tightening in confusion as the man who had just threatened her made arrangements for her meal.

Domenic hung up the phone, slung his custom suit jacket over his forearm, and strode toward the double doors.

His hand gripped the brass handle. He paused, glancing over his shoulder out of the corner of his eye at the small figure curled up in the center of the king-sized bed, the silk sheet wrapped tightly around her.

Without another word, he pushed the handle down and stepped out, the heavy wooden door clicking shut behind him.

The silence in the suite snapped the last of Danika's composure. She buried her face into the pillow that still smelled like him, hot tears soaking into the cotton as the memory of chugging tequila in a dark club and stumbling into his arms crashed over her.

A soft knock broke the quiet, and the hotel butler wheeled a silver cart into the dining area, setting steaming plates by the window.

"Ma'am, the gentleman instructed us to make sure you eat," the butler said with a polite bow. "Please ring if you require laundry service."

Danika looked at the steaming glass of milk across the room, and her stomach cramped violently. She threw off the silk sheet and ran barefoot into the marble bathroom.

She gripped the edges of the sink and dry-heaved, lifting her head to see her tangled hair, swollen eyes, and the dark purple marks littering her neck in the mirror.

She stumbled into the glass shower stall and turned the dial all the way to cold, gasping as the freezing water hit her aching skin.

Twenty minutes later, wrapped in a thick terrycloth robe, she walked back into the bedroom and picked up her phone from the rug. Dozens of notifications lit up the screen, not a single one from her adoptive parents.

She let out a shaky breath, opened her contacts, and pressed her trembling thumb against the listing for Brewer Estate.

The cold, mechanical busy signal droned from the speaker until the call automatically disconnected. Danika's fingers went slack, and the phone slipped from her hand onto the wool rug, its dim screen lighting up her pale ankles.

She walked slowly over to the dining table by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring down at the Eggs Benedict and steaming milk the man had ordered. Her throat felt too tight to swallow food.

Pulling out a velvet chair, she sat down and wrapped both hands around the warm glass of milk, her mind drifting back to seven o'clock the previous evening.

It had been her twenty-second birthday. Wearing a cheap floral dress bought with wages from her part-time gallery job, she had stood outside an exclusive Manhattan private club in the biting wind for two full hours. Wealthy members walking past had looked at her like street trash, and the Brewer family's black Rolls-Royce never pulled up to the curb.

Every time she had dialed her adoptive mother, Devin Marshall, the woman's personal assistant had answered with the same robotic line: "Mrs. Brewer is attending an important gala. Do not disturb."

Shivering so hard her teeth chattered, Danika had ducked into a budget coffee shop next door and opened Instagram, where Alejandra Lee's newest post sat at the top of her feed.

In the photo, Alejandra wore a diamond-encrusted couture gown in front of a five-tier fondant cake, flanked by Mr. and Mrs. Brewer beaming with pride.

The caption read: "Thank you Mom and Dad for throwing my one-year homecoming anniversary party. Happiest night of my life." Danika had stared at the screen until her tears blurred the text. Her birthday happened to be the exact day their biological daughter had been found, meaning the substitute foster daughter didn't even get a phone call.

That suffocating wave of abandonment had driven her out of the coffee shop. She had used the last of her cash to buy a guest pass into the club, marched straight to the bar, and downed shot after shot of cheap tequila.

When the room started spinning and she stumbled toward the restroom, she had slammed straight into a wall of muscle smelling of cedar and smoke, grabbing the lapels of a stranger's custom suit as he looked down at her with sharp gray-blue eyes.

A loud clink snapped Danika out of the memory as she set the milk glass down hard on the marble tabletop.

She stood up, walked into the walk-in closet, and picked up her crumpled floral dress from the corner, the fabric reeking of stale liquor.

Slipping out of the robe, she pulled the stained dress back over her head and zipped it up, her skin crawling at how pathetic she looked.

She sat at the vanity and dabbed layer after layer of complimentary hotel concealer over the bruises on her neck until her skin looked chalky and pale.

After tying her messy hair into a low ponytail and forcing her lips into a flat line, she walked back to the bed, picked up her phone, and booked an Uber all the way out to the Brewer Estate in the Hamptons, wincing at the fare.

Ten minutes later, she pulled open the heavy suite door, walked down the quiet carpeted hallway, and rode the elevator down to the ground floor lobby.

She pushed through the revolving glass doors into the cold New York morning wind, hugging her arms around her chest as she hurried into the back seat of the waiting black sedan.

"To the Hamptons, please," she told the driver, leaning her temple against the cold window glass.

As the car merged onto the highway leading out of Manhattan and the skyscrapers gave way to Long Island greenery, her pulse began to race.

The phone on her lap buzzed violently with an incoming call from Delmus Oconnell, her adoptive younger brother and the only person in that house who treated her like a human being.

She swiped to answer, and Delmus's frantic voice immediately blasted through the speaker.

"Dani, where the hell are you? Mom and Dad are losing their minds right now, you need to get back here!"

Danika's stomach knotted, her knuckles turning white around the phone case.

"I'm in a car on the highway. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Alejandra told them last night that you blew off the family to go party at some sleazy nightclub," Delmus whispered urgently on the other end. "Brace yourself."

Danika ended the call and stared out the windshield as the Uber slowed down in front of the massive wrought-iron gates of the Brewer Estate.

The black Uber rolled to a stop outside the wrought-iron gates. Danika paid the driver, pushed the car door open, and stepped out into the salty Long Island wind that whipped through her thin floral dress.

Walking up the gravel driveway in her scuffed heels, she took a deep breath, pushed open the heavy oak double doors, and stepped into the Italian marble foyer.

The entrance hall was dead silent save for the ticking of the antique grandfather clock.

Before she could take a second step toward the stairs, her adoptive mother's shrill voice cut through the air from the main living room.

"So you finally decided to show your face? I thought you died in a gutter outside whatever trashy club you crawled into!"

Danika stopped and turned toward the archway. Devin Marshall sat on the velvet sofa in a tailored Chanel loungewear set, glaring at her like she was a cockroach on the rug.

Beside her, Mr. Brewer slammed his copy of The Wall Street Journal down onto the mahogany coffee table.

"You have completely disgraced the Brewer name!" he barked.

Danika bit the inside of her lip to stop her chin from trembling and walked into the room, keeping her back straight.

"Yesterday was my twenty-second birthday," she said quietly. "You were all in the city celebrating Alejandra."

Devin let out a harsh laugh and stood up, her eyes raking with disgust over Danika's wrinkled dress and the heavy concealer caked on her neck.

"And that's your excuse for staying out all night and whoring around in low-class bars?"

Danika opened her mouth to answer, but Mr. Brewer shot to his feet and pointed a thick finger in her face.

"You are an orphan who only survived because of our charity! What right do you have to complain under my roof?" He took a step closer, his face dark with fury. "Starting today, your share of the family trust fund is frozen. You won't see a single cent!"

The air rushed out of Danika's lungs. That trust fund was her only ticket to opening her own art studio and escaping this house.

"You can't do that," she said, her voice rising. "Grandfather left those shares to me in his will!"

Devin crossed her arms over her chest, her lips curling into a sneer.

"The old man was senile when he gave family assets to an outsider. As long as you live here, you follow our rules."

Danika's hands shook at her sides, her nails digging deep into her palms as her chest heaved for air.

Rapid footsteps pounded down the spiral staircase. Delmus, wearing a wrinkled Ivy League prep hoodie, took the steps three at a time and sprinted into the living room.

He threw himself directly in front of Danika, spreading his arms wide to shield her from their adoptive parents.

"What gives you the right to freeze Dani's trust?" Delmus panted, his chest heaving as he glared at the sofa. "You're the ones who ditched her outside that club on her birthday!"

Mr. Brewer scowled at his nineteen-year-old adoptive son.

"Delmus, stay out of this and get back upstairs to study for your SATs!"

Delmus jutted his chin out, his amber eyes blazing.

"If you're cutting off her trust fund, then cut mine off too! I don't want it!"

Devin's face twisted with rage as she pointed a manicured finger at the boy.

"You ungrateful little brat! We spent a fortune raising you, and this is how you repay us?"

Looking at the thin, stubborn back of her younger brother, Danika felt hot tears spill over her eyelashes. She reached out and tugged lightly on the hem of his hoodie.

"Delmus, stop," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Don't fight with them over me. It's not worth it."

Delmus reached back and squeezed her freezing fingers tight, glancing over his shoulder with a fierce look that said, I got your back, Dani.

He turned back to face Mr. and Mrs. Brewer like a wall.

"As long as I'm in this house, nobody touches my sister."

Mr. Brewer let out a cold, furious laugh and pointed toward the front doors.

"Fine! Since you two are so devoted to each other, you can both pack your bags and get out of my house right now!"

The threat hung heavy in the room. Danika's heart sank into her stomach; she knew her adoptive father would ruin Delmus's college applications without a second thought.

She pulled her hand out of Delmus's grip and stepped out from behind his shoulder to face the couple.

"Freeze my trust fund," Danika said, her voice trembling but loud. "Leave Delmus out of this. His college interviews are next month."

Devin opened her mouth to spit another insult, but a soft, startled gasp echoed from the second-floor landing.

Everyone looked up to see Alejandra leaning weakly against the carved wooden railing in a pure white silk nightgown, her eyes red and watery as she looked down at the room.