RYAN'S POV
I don't even realize I've stopped breathing until I hear the screech of the brakes.
One second, the road is clear.
The next, a girl stumbles right into my headlights and collapses like her legs give out beneath her.
For a moment, everything inside me goes still.
Then instinct kicks in.
I'm out of the car together with Thomas before the engine even settles, crossing the road in long strides.
"Hey-" Thomas's voice comes out rough. "Hey, can you hear me?"
She's shaking so badly her teeth are chattering. Her hair is everywhere, her clothes torn, her face blotched with tears and fear I can feel straight through my skin.
And then she whispers, voice barely there, "Please... don't let him take me back..."
I don't know who him is.
But I know what fear looks like.
What escape looks like.
Before I can ask anything, her eyes roll back and she goes limp in my arms.
We lift her easily. She's weightless, like a wounded thing trying to disappear, and carry her into my car. My pulse hasn't slowed since the moment she stepped into the road.
I don't even remember the drive to the hospital. I only remember the way she kept flinching in her sleep, like even the darkness was after her.
*****
Because of an emergency, Thomas leaves the hospital with me waiting alone.
The doctor finally comes out, pulling down his mask.
I stand instantly. "How is she?"
He hesitates, and my jaw tightens.
"There's something you should know," he says quietly. "She's pregnant."
The word hits harder than I expect. Pregnant.
This girl. This terrified, trembling girl was carrying a child?
Running for her life with a baby inside her?
The doctor continues, "The stress and the physical assault she experienced put the pregnancy in danger. We're monitoring her, but she needs specialized care."
I don't let him finish.
"Give her whatever she needs. Private suite, twenty-four-hour monitoring, specialists. Everything."
He nods. "There will be additional-"
"Do it," I cut him off. "Money isn't the problem. Just keep her safe."
And I mean it more than I know how to explain.
He hurries off, and when they move her to the luxury wing, I follow.
The room is quiet, warm, nothing like the night she came from. Machines blink around her, steady and soft. She looks... small. Too small for everything she's carrying.
I stand there for a long minute, watching her breathe, wondering who she is and what kind of world she comes from.
And why I couldn't just leave her there on that road.
I don't have answers.
But I know I can't stay.
Not with what I came here to do tonight.
I stand by her bedside, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the faint beep of the monitor filling the quiet room. She's still unconscious, the kind of still that makes your skin itch with worry. And yet, in this sterile silence, I feel a strange calm, as though being here is the only place I'm allowed to breathe.
My phone buzzes sharply in my pocket, breaking the spell. I pull it out and glance at the screen.
It's one of the company directors.
"Sir," the voice on the line is tense. "We just received notice. The investors... they're asking for confirmation on the new acquisitions tonight. They expect you to attend."
I frown. A frown that feels wrong in the middle of this hospital room. My hands tighten around the railing of the bed.
My father's empire doesn't wait for emergencies.
It doesn't care who's bleeding on the pavement.
It never will.
But something in me shifts. Something stubborn, like it refuses to let another moment slip without action.
Luciana.
I need her to say yes.
Not for the company.
Not for appearances.
For me.
"I'll handle it," I say sharply, ending the call.
I step back from the bed, take a long breath of antiseptic-tinged air, and let my gaze linger on her one last time.
Every line of her face is etched into my mind. Bruised lips, trembling hands, the faint glow of her eyelashes against her cheek.
I don't know her name.
I don't know her story.
But I know I can't leave this behind.
The hospital fades behind me as I get into the car. The city lights smear past, a blur of yellow and red. My pulse thumps against my ribs, urging me forward.
I drive without thinking, following instinct more than roads, until I find myself outside Luciana's building.
*****
Luciana opens her penthouse door wearing silk and that practiced smile she uses on cameras and people she needs.
"Ryan?" She steps back a little. "You look like you wrestled with a storm."
"I need to talk to you."
She raises a brow. "Serious?"
"Yes."
"Too serious."
I don't sit. I don't breathe. I just say it.
"Marry me."
Her expression freezes, then shifts into something unreadable.
"Ryan..."
"You wanted commitment," I remind her. "I'm giving it."
She presses her lips together and for a second, I almost think she'll say yes.
But she sighs, soft and controlled. I believe she immediately remembered the will.
"I can't."
Something cold settles in my chest. "Why not?"
"Because I can't get pregnant," she says simply. "Not now. My entire career depends on my body. My figure. My contracts. A pregnancy would ruin everything. And a child is what you need from what I heard the will read."
I stare at her, and something inside me... clicks out of place.
"But we can find alternatives," she adds quickly. "A surrogate. Or we wait and adopt. Or even... just have a marriage for image."
Image.
Career.
Body.
Not once does she say us.
Not once does she say love.
I take a slow breath. "I understand."
But I don't. Not really.
And I can't stay another second in a place where everything is so conditional.
I storm out angrily.
*****
Mother is waiting when I get home, elegant as always, a woman who carries control in her posture.
"I heard you went to Luciana's," she says.
"I did."
"And?"
"It won't work."
She isn't surprised. If anything, she looks vindicated.
"Of course not. That girl is unserious. And you..." she gives me a pointed look, "you are the soon-to-be chairman of Montenegro Holdings. Your partner must be someone who understands duty."
I rub a hand across my jaw, tired in a way I can't show.
She continues, "Since you clearly don't know how to choose, I've arranged something. A potential bride. Proper background. Proper upbringing. You will meet her tomorrow."
I stiffen. "Mother-"
"This isn't optional," she cuts in. "You're not a boy anymore. You don't get to play with your future. Or ours."
I breathe out slowly. "Fine. I'll go."
Her satisfaction is instant. "Good. And Ryan? Behave."
I don't respond. I just leave.
I should be thinking about tomorrow. About my mother's plans. About the expectations waiting for me.
But all I can see is the girl in the hospital bed.
Bruised. Exhausted. Pregnant. Alone.
And for reasons I can't explain even to myself, she stays in my mind long after I close my eyes.