Adrian's expression was unreadable. But his hold on her was firm, grounding. The faint scent of his cologne; subtle, crisp and wrapped around her. Too familiar, too dangerous.
"Easy," he said lowly, his voice cutting through the ringing in her ears. "You're okay."
Someone called for water. Another voice mentioned calling a medic. But Adrian didn't let go. His hand remained steady against the small of her back. The other bracing her arm as though he feared she did crumble if he released her.
At this point, Maya wasn't ready to give the media a confirmation of their heavily circulating scandle of her.
She straightened immediately, tugging herself free though her legs still trembled. "I...I'm fine," she mumbled, forcing a smile toward Ms. Han, who was rushing over. "Just dizzy. Probably skipped lunch."
But Adrian wasn't convinced. His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her face. "You're pale. You're not fine."
Before she could protest, he was already giving quiet orders to his driver. "Bring the car around." Then to Ms. Han: "I'll make sure she's checked out. Cancel her remaining appearances for tonight."
Maya's heart stuttered. "That's not necessary. I said I'm fine!"
Adrian didn't respond. He just looked at her. Cool, composed, and terrifyingly decisive. Within moments, she was ushered through the back exit. Then into the black
The ride was suffocatingly silent.
Maya sat rigid in the backseat, eyes fixed on the passing city lights. Her hands trembled in her lap as she pressed them together tightly. Every nerve screamed at her to speak. To demand he take her home but the words caught in her throat.
Adrian, who was seated beside her, scrolled through his phone with a detached calm. But his gaze flicked toward her more often than he let on. When they finally stopped in front of a sleek, glass-walled building, she tensed.
"Where are we?" she asked, alarmed. As if she wasn't already aware of the situation at hand.
"My private clinic," he replied simply. "You're seeing a doctor."
Her pulse spiked. "No. Adrian, I don't need—"
"You fainted in public," he interrupted, his tone sharp. "At a high-profile event, in front of media. And now at your shoot. I'm not risking you collapsing again and making headlines for all the wrong reasons."
Her lips parted, then pressed shut. There was no winning against that reasoning. Atleast not here, not now. So she followed in silence as they entered the clinic, greeted immediately by a discreet nurse who seemed to know exactly who he was and why they were there.
Within minutes, she was guided into a private room while Adrian waited outside.
The nurse drew her blood, took her vitals, and asked the usual questions. Maya answered mechanically, her mind spinning faster than her heart rate.
She wasn't afraid of the diagnosis. She already knew. She was terrified of what would happen when he found out.
It didn't take long. Just about 20 minutes.
When she emerged, Adrian was still standing by the window, phone in hand, looking as though he had been carved from a stone. The doctor, an older man in an expensive suit rather than a white coat, was murmuring something beside him.
Their conversation stopped the second she stepped in.
"Maya," the doctor said with a polite nod, his tone careful. "You're fine overall. But…" He hesitated. "You're pregnant."
Her heart slammed against her ribs. The room seemed to fade, the walls pressing closer.
She forced a small laugh. "That can't be right—"
"It's confirmed," the doctor said gently. "Early stage, perhaps a few weeks."
Maya's throat went dry. She looked away, blinking rapidly as panic clawed its way up her spine. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not in front of him.
Silence stretched like a wire about to snap.
Adrian turned to her slowly, disbelief shadowing his face. "Pregnant?"
She didn't answer.
His eyes hardened. "Whose is it?"
The question hit like a slap. "That's none of your business."
His jaw clenched. "You're standing in my clinic, Maya. You fainted in my arms. And now I find out you're pregnant after—" He stopped himself, but the implication hung heavy between them.
Her breath hitched. "After what?" she challenged, though her voice trembled.
Their eyes locked. The night they had shared, the one she had been trying so hard to forget, flashed behind his gaze. She saw the recognition there, the calculation, the dangerous mix of confusion and realization.
"You think it might be your's?" she said softly, accusation and fear blending in her tone.
He didn't deny it.
Instead, he took a step closer, his voice low. "Tell me the truth. Is it mine?"
She flinched back. "You have no right to ask me that."
He exhaled, frustration cutting through his composure. "You disappeared that morning. No note. No name. Now, months later, you show up under my investor's agency,
fainted in front of me. And suddenly, you're pregnant? Tell me, Maya, how do you expect me to ignore that?"
Her chest rose and fell rapidly. "Because it's not your problem!" she snapped. "I don't need your concern, your doctor, or your interference. Just... let me go. It's none of your business."
"None of my—" He stopped himself, dragging a hand through his hair. For a man known for control, his restraint was cracking. "Maya, I'm not accusing you. I just need the truth."
"The truth," she whispered, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "The truth is that I made a mistake. One night. That's all. It has nothing to do with you."
He searched her face. Reading between every word, and every tremor in her voice. Something in his gaze softened briefly, almost wounded. Then hardened again.
He stared at her for a long, tense moment
Before finally stepping aside.
"Fine," he said with some sense of finality. "If that's how you want it."
She brushed past him, holding her head high though her vision blurred.
The night air hit her like a slap, the moment she stepped out. Her phone buzzed endlessly. Notifications, headlines, messages she couldn't bear to read. The world was already talking about the picture. About them.
She shut off her phone, grabbed her hoodie, and waved a cab to a stop.
Back in the clinic, Adrian remained by the window. His expression unreadable as he watched her leave.
He knew he should let it go. Chalk it up to coincidence, to a misunderstanding, to bad timing. But he couldn't.
Something about her. The way she looked away when he asked, the tremor in her voice. All felt like truth wrapped in denial.
Just at the sight of his assistant who had walked in, he walked of towards the exit. His assistant following closely from behind.
,
.
.
The night stretched on, longer than expected. Adrian stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse. City lights flickering beneath him. His reflection stared back— calm, calculating, and unreadable.
"Find out everything about her," he told his assistant over the phone. After what seem like a long, critical thinking.
"Everything, sir?"
"Yes," he said, his voice low. "Her background, her agency records, and her medical history if you can access it. Especially…" He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "The night of the charity gala six weeks ago. I want every detail."
He hung up and looked out over the skyline again.
Something about her words; It has nothing to do with you, echoed in his head like a dare.
If she thought he would walk away quietly, she didn't know him at all. He assured.