CHAPTER ONE:
Nicole Blake hadn't cried in years Not when Julian forgot her birthday for the second year in a row or when she sold her inheritance diamond ring to cover the last mortgage payment on his studio.
Not even when his mother called her "the house help who lucked out."
But now, barefoot on the bathroom floor, in the same robe she wore the night he proposed, something inside her broke.
Her eyes were locked on the test in her hand.
The first line came quickly—bold and unmistakable. Then came the second.
At first, it was barely there, faint and uncertain. Then clear and real.
She was pregnant.
Not the kind of pregnancy you could blame on a faulty test or wishful thinking. The kind that rooted itself in your chest and wouldn't let go.
Her fingers tightened around the stick, her palm sweaty and numb.
Her mind scrambled for logic, but her heart raced ahead, already filling in blurry images—tiny hands, sleepy giggles, the sound of midnight cries in a house that didn't feel like home anymore.
Their baby.
Her bottom lip trembled, and the sob slipped out—raw, sudden, almost violent. It startled even her.
This was supposed to be the moment.
The one that brought them back from whatever this had become.
She'd planned it for weeks—quiet dinner, soft jazz humming in the background, a little white box on his plate holding a custom baby onesie that said, You're going to be a dad.
She had imagined it all: the way his eyes would soften, how he'd pull her in, whisper, "We're really doing this, huh?"
Instead, she was alone and shaking.
Nicole stood, slowly. One hand braced against the sink as she set the test down beside it. She looked up at her reflection.
Her silk robe—navy, monogrammed with her initials—still clung to her damp skin. A gift from Julian, back when his wins still felt like theirs. Her hair, wet from the shower, had mostly slipped out of the loose bun she'd tied. Her skin looked pale under the harsh bathroom light. Her lips were parted like she might speak—but no words came.
That bathroom had seen her cry once before, years ago. But this moment... This hurts more.
She tucked the test away, sliding it into the drawer beneath a stack of cotton pads. Just for now.The front door clicked open.
"Nic?" Julian's voice echoed down the hallway.
She rushed to the sink, splashed her face with cold water, then patted it dry.
Her fingers worked quickly, smoothing down her hair, tying the sash of her robe tighter. By the time she stepped out, her face was neutral, composed.
He was already in the hallway, fiddling with the cuff of his expensive watch.
Julian looked like a magazine spread—charcoal-gray suit, maroon tie, that fresh shave she used to love. And that scent... the same dark cologne she'd always bought him. It clung to him now in a way that made her stomach tighten.
"You're dressed up," she said, keeping her tone even.
He glanced at her, smiled faintly, then turned back toward the full-length mirror. "Board meeting in New York. Last-minute."
She blinked. "New York?"
"Yeah. Just overnight. Fly out tonight, pitch tomorrow, back by Wednesday."
"You were gone two nights ago."
His fingers stilled on his cuff, only for a beat—barely noticeable, unless you were paying attention.
"This one's different," he said casually. "Strategy session. They moved the timeline." She nodded, even though everything about it felt familiar.
The last-minute trips. The vague meetings. The new password on the second phone he never let out of his sight.
"You want me to pack something for you?" she asked, watching him closely. He finally turned to her. "No need. I'm traveling light."
He stepped closer and cupped her cheek. His hand was warm—too warm. His lips grazed her temple.
"You okay?"
She smiled, just barely. The kind of smile you wear when you've already decided not to fight. "I'm good. Just tired."
He kissed her forehead. "I'll call when I land, alright?" "Of course."
She wrapped her arms around him, but didn't hold on.
He smelled like fresh cologne—too fresh. Like he'd reapplied it before walking through the door. There was no laptop bag, no briefcase. Just a sleek carry-on resting by the door.
Julian lingered for a second, then stepped back.
"I'll be back before you even miss me," he said, grabbing his keys.
She nodded. "Safe flight."
He paused at the door, like he was about to say something. But instead, he just winked. "Don't wait up."
And with that, he was gone.
The door shut behind him with a soft click, and the silence that followed felt heavier than anything he'd said.Nicole stood there, unmoving,
Staring at the closed door. She was barely breathing.
She didn't know everything, not yet. But she knew enough.
She knew how long perfume lingered when it wasn't hers.
She knew that his phone's password had changed the same day he started locking the bathroom door.
She knew the scent of Chanel No. 5 on the collar of his coat.
And now... she knew something else.She was carrying his child.
She walked slowly back to the bathroom. Her bare feet whispered against the hardwood. She opened the drawer and pulled out the test again.
Her hands weren't shaking anymore.
This was real,
This fragile, powerful truth that belonged to her, no matter what else fell apart.She looked at herself in the mirror again.
She didn't see a woman unraveling.
She saw someone on the verge of choosing differently.
"I was going to tell you tonight," she whispered, "but now... I think I need to wait.