Elena's POV
The penthouse was too quiet.
I'd been sitting on this bed for what felt like forever, my mind spinning with impossible truths. I was Elena Carter—the missing heiress. Mrs. Harris had been lying to me for five years. Owen had sold me to pay gambling debts. And now Owen was dead.
Everything I thought I knew was a lie.
My hand pressed against my stomach again, feeling that weird warmth that had been growing stronger all night. My breasts ached. My body felt different—heavier, fuller, like something was changing from the inside out.
No. I couldn't think about that. Not yet. Not until I was sure.
But I was sure. Deep down, I knew.
I was pregnant with Damien Cross's baby.
The lock clicked. I jumped, my heart hammering.
"It's me," Damien's voice said flatly. "Don't scream."
He entered the room, and I tracked his movement by sound. His footsteps were slower than before. Heavier. Like something inside him had broken.
"Your mother?" I asked softly.
Silence. Then: "Still alive. Barely."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," he snapped. "Sorry doesn't fix anything. Sorry doesn't stop death. Sorry is just a useless word people say when they can't help."
His anger felt like heat radiating across the room. But underneath it, I heard something else—something raw and bleeding.
He was terrified.
"You love her very much," I said quietly.
"Love?" Damien laughed bitterly. "Love is a weakness. A liability. Something people use against you."
"That's not what love is."
"Then what is it?" His voice was challenging. Harsh. "Tell me, Elena. What's love to someone who's blind? Can you even see love?"
His words were meant to hurt, but they didn't. Because I understood him now. He was lashing out because he was in pain.
"I see love better than most people," I answered. "I hear it in voices. Feel it in actions. Sense it in the air when someone cares. And you love your mother so much it's destroying you to watch her die."
Damien went completely still. For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
"How did you know?" he finally asked. His voice was softer now. Confused. "About my mother dying. I never told you that."
"I heard your phone call. Your voice changed when they told you she collapsed. You were scared—really scared. It was the first time you sounded human instead of cold."
"I'm not human," Damien said darkly. "I'm a monster who does terrible things to survive. Don't mistake one moment of weakness for humanity."
"Everyone's human," I insisted. "Even monsters. Especially monsters."
Damien moved closer. I heard his breathing—fast and unsteady. He was falling apart, and he didn't know how to stop it.
"My mother is the only good thing I ever had," he said quietly. "When I was a kid, we had nothing. No money. No food sometimes. She worked three jobs to keep us alive. And when she got sick—when she needed help—I couldn't save her. All my money, all my power, and I can't stop her from dying."
My chest ached. "You're with her now. That's what matters. You're not letting her die alone."
"It's not enough."
"It's everything," I whispered. "My parents died instantly in the crash. I never got to say goodbye. I never got to tell them I loved them one last time. You still have that chance. Don't waste it being angry."
Damien made a sound like a wounded animal. Then suddenly, he was sitting on the bed beside me. Close. Too close. I could feel the warmth of his body, smell his cologne mixed with hospital antiseptic.
"Why are you being kind to me?" he asked hoarsely. "I bought you. I locked you in here. I'm the reason your life is destroyed."
"Owen destroyed my life," I corrected. "You just... inherited the mess."
Damien laughed—a broken sound. "Inherited the mess. That's one way to put it."
We sat in silence for a moment. Strange silence. Not scary anymore. Just... heavy.
This was my chance. I had to tell him. Had to say the words before I lost my nerve.
"Damien," I started, my voice shaking. "There's something you need to know."
"What now?" He sounded exhausted. "More secrets? More lies?"
"I'm pregnant."
The words hung in the air like bombs waiting to explode.
Damien went so still I wasn't sure he was breathing anymore.
"What did you say?" His voice was deadly quiet.
"I'm pregnant," I repeated, my hands twisting together. "I can tell. My body feels different. The timing is right. And I just... I know."
"That's impossible." Damien stood up fast. "You were unconscious the whole time. The drug Owen gave you—"
"Had amnesia effects," I finished. "That's what Owen said. I don't remember what happened that night, but my body does. And now my body is telling me there's a baby growing inside me."
"No." Damien's voice was rising. "No, this can't be happening. Not now. Not when my mother—" He stopped. Swore viciously.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Stop apologizing!" He was pacing now—I could hear his footsteps going back and forth like a caged animal. "This isn't your fault. This is... this is..."
"A disaster?" I offered weakly.
"An understatement." Damien laughed without humor. "Do you understand what this means? If you're pregnant with my child, you're tied to me forever. You can't just disappear. You can't go back to whatever life you had before."
"I don't have a life to go back to," I said. "Owen's dead. Mrs. Harris is a liar and a thief. And apparently, I'm some rich heiress I didn't even know existed. I don't have anything, Damien. Except maybe this baby."
Damien's pacing stopped. "You want to keep it?"
The question caught me off guard. "I... I don't know. I just found out. I haven't thought about—"
"Because I can make this problem go away," Damien interrupted coldly. "Money solves everything. Including unwanted pregnancies."
His words stabbed through me. "Unwanted?"
"You were drugged and violated. Why would you want a baby from that?"
"Because it's mine!" I shouted, surprising myself. "Whatever happened that night, whatever you did or didn't do—this baby is mine. And I won't kill it just because the situation isn't perfect."
"Not perfect?" Damien's voice was harsh. "Elena, you're blind, broke—well, maybe not broke if you really are Elena Carter—and pregnant by a man you don't know. This isn't 'not perfect.' This is catastrophic."
Tears burned my eyes. "Then what do you want me to do?"
"I want—" Damien started, then stopped. "I don't know what I want. My mother is dying. Owen Harris is dead, which means someone else killed him—probably Marcus Steele sending me a message. You're a missing heiress who's now a target for every criminal in the city. And now you're pregnant with my child?"
He laughed—wild and slightly unhinged. "This is insane. This entire situation is completely insane."
"I know," I whispered.
"Do you?" Damien moved closer again. "Do you really understand? If you're pregnant, if Marcus finds out, he'll use you against me. He'll use that baby against me. You'll never be safe."
"Then protect me," I said quietly. "You said you're the most dangerous man in this city. Prove it."
"Why should I?"
"Because that baby is yours too." I lifted my chin, facing toward where I thought he was standing. "Whether you want it or not, you're going to be a father. And you get to decide right now what kind of father you'll be. The kind who runs away? Or the kind who fights?"
Damien was quiet for so long I thought maybe he'd left the room.
Then his phone rang. He answered, and his entire body went rigid.
"When?" he asked sharply.
A pause.
"I'm coming. Tell her—" His voice cracked. "Tell her I'm coming."
He hung up and moved toward the door fast.
"Damien?" I called out.
"My mother just woke up," he said, his voice strange. "She's asking for me. She wants to meet my wife before she dies."
"Your wife?" I was confused. "But you're not—"
"Married. I know." Damien stopped at the door. "But my mother's dying wish is to see me settled. Happy. With someone who loves me. And she just asked if she could meet the woman who finally captured my heart."
"What are you going to tell her?"
Damien turned, and even though I couldn't see him, I felt his eyes on me. Intense. Burning.
"That depends," he said slowly. "How good of an actress are you, Elena Carter?"
My stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, you're about to become my wife. At least, that's what my dying mother is going to believe." His voice was cold again. Controlled. "You'll play the role of the woman who loves me. You'll hold my hand, smile, and make her final days peaceful. And in return, I'll protect you from Marcus Steele, Mrs. Harris, and every other threat coming your way."
"You want me to lie to a dying woman?"
"I want you to give her peace," Damien corrected. "One small mercy before she goes. Can you do that? Or are you too moral to save yourself?"
I should have said no. Should have refused to be part of his sick plan.
But his mother was dying. And I knew—I knew—what it felt like to lose parents. If I could give her peace, even false peace...
"I'll do it," I whispered.
"Good." Damien's footsteps moved toward the door again. "Get dressed. We leave in ten minutes. And Elena?"
"Yes?"
"If you tell my mother the truth—if you break her heart before she dies—I will make you regret being born. Understood?"
I nodded, my whole body shaking.
The door closed. Locked.
And I sat there, realizing what I'd just agreed to.
I was going to pretend to be the wife of the most dangerous man in the city.
I was pregnant with his baby.
And his dying mother was about to believe that her monster son had finally found love.
What could possibly go wrong?