The silence in the hospital room was unnerving. I sat upright in bed, knees tucked to my chest, eyes fixed on the far wall like it held answers to questions I was too afraid to ask.
I was pregnant.
Three weeks along.
Carrying his child.
My fingers trembled as they rested on my lower stomach. The thought made me feel hollow and heavy all at once. A child. A part of Kendrick. Something I never asked for. Something I couldn't run from even if I tried.
Nurse Elise had left the room hours ago after breaking the news with soft eyes and hesitant words. She promised she wouldn't say anything until I was ready. She held my hand. She saw me cry.
But deep down, I knew something was coming. I felt it in the air...
I didn't have to wait long.
The door creaked open. My pulse jumped. And there he was.
Kendrick Hale.
Dressed in tailored black slacks and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up, forearms taut and exposed. His presence filled the space like smoke. His eyes, silver and piercing, locked onto mine instantly.
I tried to straighten up, wipe the vulnerability off my face, but it was too late.
He already knew.
"Kendrick," I breathed, my voice barely audible. "What are you doing here?"
He closed the door behind him without a word. Each step he took toward me made my skin crawl with anticipation and dread.
Then he said it.
"You're pregnant."
My heart stopped.
My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
"Elise told me." He said it flatly. No anger. No shock. Just fact. "Three weeks."
I swallowed hard. "She had no right"
"I had every right," he cut in sharply, stepping closer to the bed. "Don't talk to me about rights. You think you can carry my blood and keep it from me?"
My breath caught. "It wasn't planned. I didn't ask for this."
He studied me, his eyes scanning my body like he could already see the changes happening inside me. A small, bitter smile touched his lips. "Doesn't matter. It's mine."
"You act like that's something to be proud of," I whispered, shaking my head.
He moved fast.
In one blink, he was beside the bed, gripping my chin with firm fingers, forcing my gaze to his. "It is," he said, voice low, almost reverent. "You're carrying something I never thought I'd have. A legacy. A second chance."
I flinched. "A second chance? At what? You treat people like possessions. You hurt me. You used me."
He let go of my face, stepping back like my words stung more than he expected. For a moment, just a flicker of time, something in his eyes cracked. I saw it,the boy Elise spoke of. The one broken long before I came into the picture.
But then it vanished.
Replaced by the man who built walls from pain and wore power like armor.
"You think I wanted this?" he said, his voice quieter now. "I didn't. I never wanted children. Never wanted anyone close enough to ruin me."
I stared at him. "Then why do you look at me like that?"
His jaw clenched.
"Because you already have."
Silence swallowed us.
He sat on the edge of the bed, just inches from me. The mattress dipped, and the shift in weight made me tense. His hand reached out, slow, deliberate, and landed over mine ,warm, firm.
"I won't let you go," he murmured. "Not now. Not ever."
I yanked my hand away. "You don't get to make that decision for me."
"You think this is a choice?" he snapped, eyes flaring. "You carry my child, in my hospital, under my protection. You belong to me."
His words scorched. Branded.
I tried to stand, but he shoved me back onto the bed with a force that wasn't violent , just unyielding. "Don't," he said. "Don't fight me on this."
I stared up at him, chest heaving. "What do you want from me, Kendrick?"
His hand slid down the side of my face, cupping my cheek. "Everything."
His lips were on mine before I could protest.
Soft.
Then hungry.
He kissed like a man starved,not for sex, but for control, for connection. I froze, lips parted in stunned silence, but he didn't stop. His tongue brushed against mine, and something traitorous inside me sparked. The way he kissed me wasn't like before. It was slower. Possessive. Like he was claiming territory.
I hated that my body responded.
He pulled away slightly, his breath hot against my lips. "You feel that?" he whispered. "That pull? It's not just me. You hate me, but your body doesn't lie."
I slapped him.
The sound echoed in the room.
He didn't flinch.
He just smirked —and then, God help me, he leaned in again.
This time, his hand gripped my thigh through the thin hospital gown, sliding up slowly. My skin erupted in goosebumps. I pushed at his chest, but it was like trying to move a mountain.
"You think you can seduce me into submission?" I snapped.
"No," he murmured. "I don't need to. I already own you."
His fingers slipped under the hem of the gown, grazing the bare skin of my inner thigh. I gasped, not from fear, but from how violently my body betrayed me.
"You hate yourself for craving this," he said, eyes burning. "But this… us… it was always inevitable."
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know if he was wrong.
And that terrified me more than anything.
He lowered his mouth to my neck, kissing the spot that always made me shiver. "I'll take care of you now," he whispered. "You and the child. No more games."
"Why?" I choked out. "Why now?"
"Because," he said, lifting his head, eyes meeting mine with terrifying intensity, "if I lose you, I lose everything."