THE WRONG MAN'S BABY

Ariana's POV

The glass doors slam open so hard the hostess gasps, but I don't stop. I can't stop. My pulse is racing like I've just sprinted through traffic, but it's anger, not fear, that fuels me.

I spot him instantly.

Damian Cole.

He's impossible to miss. Broad shoulders under a perfectly tailored suit, head tipped back in laughter, a glass of red wine in hand. He looks every bit the untouchable billionaire the tabloids paint him to be.

And sitting beside him is her. Vanessa Moore. Blonde, polished, a woman who probably thinks she owns the air in this restaurant.

My stomach twists. I shouldn't be here. I know I shouldn't. But the image of that pregnancy test won't leave me. The two pink lines. The way my hands shook so badly I almost dropped it in the sink.

And now here he is-laughing like my life isn't in pieces.

"Damian!"

The word rips out of me before I can think.

Dozens of heads turn. Forks clink against plates and freeze. Music from the grand piano in the corner stutters as the pianist falters.

Damian lifts his gaze lazily, then frowns when he sees me storming across the restaurant.

He doesn't recognize me. The realization stings like salt in a wound.

Good. Let him feel the sting back.

I reach his table in seconds. My hand flies before my brain can catch up.

The sound of my palm smacking against his cheek ricochets through the room.

Gasps. Murmurs. Someone drops their spoon.

Damian jerks back, stunned, his hand going to his face. His eyes-icy blue, sharp enough to slice lock on mine. "What the hell......"

"You ruined my life!" My voice shakes, loud and raw. "You think you can sleep with me and pretend it never happened? I'm pregnant, you bastard!"

The whispers grow louder. I see a phone angled toward us. Someone else whispers, "Did she just say pregnant?"

Vanessa shoots up from her chair so fast her wine spills onto the tablecloth. Her lips curl, eyes blazing. "You....." She slaps Damian across the other cheek.

The crowd gasps again. This time, people stand to watch.

"You've been cheating on me?" Vanessa screams. "With her?" She jabs a manicured finger toward me, like I'm some insect she's pointing out to be crushed.

"I.....Vanessa, wait....." Damian begins, voice tight.

But Vanessa doesn't wait. She snatches her purse, flips her hair, and storms toward the exit, her heels hammering the marble floor like war drums.

Every pair of eyes in the restaurant snaps back to us.

Damian exhales sharply through his nose, like he's seconds from snapping. He straightens to his full height-towering, intimidating, every inch the man who thinks the world bends for him. "Who the hell are you?"

"Don't play dumb." My voice is trembling, but I refuse to back down. "You know exactly who I am."

He studies me, confusion flickering across his features, then settling into something harder. Cold. "No. I don't. I've never seen you before in my life."

My heart plummets, but I grit my teeth. "Don't you dare."

He tilts his head, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips. "If this is some stunt to get money out of me, you're wasting your time."

"Money?" My laugh is sharp, bitter. "You think I want your money? I want you to take responsibility."

"Responsibility for what?" His voice is quiet, dangerous. "For a child you claim is mine when I've never touched you?"

"You liar!" My throat burns as tears threaten, but I swallow them down. "I remember everything. The club. The drinks. The hotel. The tattoo."

His brow furrows. "What tattoo?"

"The one on your abs. Black snake. Curled right above your hip."

Something flickers in his eyes-something sharp, almost alarmed. He pulls his shirt from his waistband with slow, deliberate movements. Then, under the restaurant's crystal lights, he lifts it.

Gasps ripple again.

My breath catches.

His torso is sculpted perfection-hard abs, skin like golden marble. But there's no tattoo. Not a trace.

My body goes cold.

"No," I whisper, shaking my head. "No, it was there. I saw it."

Damian doesn't look smug. He looks calculating. Dangerous. He slips his phone from his pocket, swipes, then thrusts it in my face.

On the screen: a photo of him. And another man.

Identical.

"This," Damian says, voice flat, "is Adrian. My twin brother. He's the one you slept with. Not me."

The ground tilts beneath me. I grip the edge of the table for balance.

The whispers around us rise, a tide of scandal ready to crash.

My face burns with humiliation.

A twin. Of course. A twin he never mentioned. A twin who let me think.....

"You're lying," I breathe.

"I wish I were." His words slice clean. "But you stormed in here, humiliated me, destroyed my relationship, and dragged my name into your mess."

"My mess?" My voice cracks. "Your brother didn't tell me. He didn't warn me. I thought...."

"You thought wrong." His jaw tightens, his eyes flashing. "And now you've turned my life into a circus."

Tears blur my vision, but fury burns hotter. "Don't you dare make yourself the victim here. You knew what kind of man your brother is, didn't you? You let him do this to me."

His silence is answer enough.

The hostess hovers nervously at the edge of the scene, unsure if she should intervene. Phones are still out. Everyone is still watching.

I can't breathe.

I can't stay here another second.

"Fine," I say, my voice breaking. "I'll find Adrian. But you're not off the hook, Damian. You're his brother. And you'll pay for protecting him."

I spin on my heel and storm out.

The restaurant doors slam behind me.

Outside, the city air is cool, but my skin burns. My hands are trembling so badly I fumble my phone twice before finally clutching it to my chest.

The screen lights with a message from my best friend: Are you sure about this? You're walking into fire, Ari.

I close my eyes, swallowing hard.

Am I sure?

No. Not at all.

But one thing is certain.

I'm carrying Adrian Cole's baby.

And Damian Cole, the wrong man just became a part of my nightmare.

Ariana's POV

The city night presses against me the second I storm out of the restaurant. Neon signs blur with my tears, car horns blare from the street, and I'm moving so fast my heels clatter like gunfire against the pavement.

Humiliation still burns on my skin. Everyone in that restaurant saw me. Everyone heard me scream that I'm pregnant. Phones were recording. By tomorrow morning, I'll be a headline, a meme, a scandal splashed across gossip sites.

And for what?

Because I trusted the wrong man.

No. Not even the wrong man.

The wrong brother.

I stop under a streetlamp, chest heaving. My hand slides to my stomach, trembling as I press against the small swell that's not showing yet but feels so heavy it could crush me.

"You didn't deserve this," I whisper. My throat closes. "You didn't ask to be born into this mess."

"Wait."

That voice.

I whip around, and there he is. Damian Cole. Striding toward me like he owns the whole damn street, the city, the world. Even now, after everything, he looks composed. His tie loosened, his jacket open, but every step is controlled, precise.

"Stay back." My voice shakes, but I throw my hand up like a barrier. "Don't come near me."

He stops a few feet away, slipping his hands into his pockets. His eyes catch the streetlight-icy blue, sharp, unforgiving. "You shouldn't be walking around out here alone. It's late."

I laugh, harsh and bitter. "Oh, so now you're worried about my safety? Where was that concern when I was in there telling the world I'm pregnant with your brother's baby?"

His expression doesn't change. His voice drops, low and steady. "You humiliated me in there."

My stomach twists. "You think I enjoyed that? You think I liked standing in the middle of that circus, screaming something so personal it broke me to say it out loud?"

He doesn't answer. He just watches me, unreadable.

I take a shaky step forward. "You could've told me. You could've stopped me before I slapped you, before I made a fool of myself in front of everyone."

"You didn't give me the chance." His tone is flat, cutting. "You came in with your accusations, shouting, hitting. What was I supposed to do? Smile and let you wreck me?"

My voice cracks. "I didn't know. I didn't know you had a twin. He never said a word. Do you have any idea what that means?"

His jaw flexes. "It means my brother seduced you, lied to you, and left you with the fallout. And now you've dragged me into it."

Dragged. The word slices through me.

I whisper, raw, "You make it sound like I asked for this. Like I wanted to be here."

His silence is heavy.

"You know what's funny?" My laugh is hollow. "When I walked into that restaurant, I thought facing you was the hardest thing I'd ever do. But it turns out, you weren't even the man I was looking for. I was screaming at the wrong damn person."

Damian's gaze flickers, just briefly, down to my stomach. When his eyes lift back to mine, they're hard again. "By morning, it'll be everywhere. The story. The videos. My name tied to yours. My company dragged through the mud because of a mistake my brother made."

I blink at him. "That's what you care about? Your empire? Your clean reputation?"

"That reputation," he says, clipped, "is what keeps thousands of employees in jobs. It's what keeps the empire my family built standing."

I step closer, shaking with rage. "I don't care about your empire. I care about this baby. I care about not being humiliated and abandoned because your brother used me like I didn't matter."

For the first time, something cracks in his expression. A shadow. Maybe guilt. Maybe pity. But it's gone as fast as it came.

"Listen to me," he says quietly. "Adrian isn't going to step up. He never does. He'll deny everything, laugh at you, and walk away without looking back."

My throat tightens. "So what are you saying? That I should just accept it? Raise this child alone?"

He doesn't answer. His silence is louder than a shout.

I wrap my arms protectively around myself, fury bubbling hot. "I'll find him. I'll make him look me in the eye and take responsibility."

Damian shakes his head slowly. "You'll regret it."

"Maybe I will," I snap. "But at least I'll try. At least I won't just stand there, cool and detached, pretending none of this matters."

His voice sharpens, steel slicing through the night. "If you trust Adrian again, even for a second, he'll destroy you."

I lift my chin, glaring. "Then maybe I'm already destroyed."

We stand there, staring each other down, the night pressing heavy between us.

Finally, he exhales through his nose, controlled, deliberate. "What's your name?"

The question catches me off guard.

I square my shoulders. "Ariana Blake."

His gaze lingers on me like he's memorizing it. "Go home, Miss Blake. Get some rest. You'll need it."

My fists clench. "Don't you dare pretend you care. You don't."

His eyes flick down to my stomach again, softer this time, before he looks back at me. His voice is low, almost rough. "You're right. I don't."

The words slice through me like glass.

I turn away before he can see the tears spilling down my cheeks.

I don't look back. I can't.

Because if I do, I'm afraid I'll see something in Damian Cole's eyes that terrifies me more than Adrian ever could.

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.