"I'm pregnant."
The words echoed in the whole room!!
They sounded wrong against glass walls, polished wood, and the quiet hum of a city far below.
Yet there they were spoken calmly, clearly landing squarely on EthanBlackwood's desk.
He looked up slowly.
The woman standing across from him didn't look dramatic. No shaking hands. No tears. No desperation.
She stood straight, coat still on, fingers loosely clasped in front of her as if she were delivering a report, not dismantling his life.
"I think you've mistaken me for someone else," Ethan said coolly.
His voice didn't rise. It didn't crack. Years of running companies had taught him how to sound unaffected even when something inside him shifted.
She didn't argue.
Instead, she reached into her bag and placed a thin envelope on the desk between them.
"I haven't," she said.
Ethan didn't touch it.
He leaned back in his chair, studying her now the way he studied hostile takeovers carefully, analytically. She was familiar. Not in a way that carried meaning, but in the way faces from careless nights sometimes were.
"That's a serious claim," he said. "You should be careful."
"I was," she replied. "Too late."
Silence stretched.
She didn't belong here.
"How far along?" he asked, surprising even himself.
Her lips pressed together for a moment. "Enough to be certain."
Ethan let out a quiet breath through his nose. "And you decided to walk into my office because…?"
"Because disappearing felt dishonest," she said. "And staying silent felt worse."
He stood then, towering over the desk, his presence sharp and intimidating by design.
"You could have asked for money," he said. "People usually do."
Her gaze hardened. "I didn't come for money."
"Then what do you want?"
She held his stare. "Nothing."
That answer unsettled him more than any demand could have.
"I'll raise the child on my own," she continued. "I won't use your name. I won't contact you again after this."
"Then why tell me at all?" he asked.
She hesitated for the first time.
"Because you deserve the truth," she said quietly. "And because one day, if you ever wonder what you left behind… you won't be wondering blindly."
Ethan felt something unfamiliar tighten in his chest.
He glanced at the envelope again. Test results. Dates. Facts.
Proof.
"You don't expect me to believe this without verification," he said.
"I don't expect anything," she replied. "Believe it or don't."
She turned toward the door.
"Wait," he said.
She stopped, hand on the handle, but didn't turn back.
"If it's mine," Ethan said slowly, "this changes things."
Her shoulders stiffened.
"Yes," she said. "That's what scares me."
She left.
The door closed softly behind her.
Ethan remained standing, staring at the space she'd occupied moments earlier.
For the first time in his life, a future he hadn't planned had just walked into his office
and refused to leave quietly.
Ethan quickly called his secretary - MARCUS and tell him everything..
Within few seconds he arrived there.
Marcus picked up the envelope from Ethan's desk despite the obvious don't-touch-that energy radiating from him.
"Wow," he said, flipping it over like it might explode. "You usually get love letters. This one comes with medical documentation."
"Put it down," Ethan snapped.
Marcus ignored him. "Let me guess she walked in, looked you dead in the eye, and said the magic word."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "She didn't shout. She didn't cry."
Marcus grinned. "Oh, that's worse. Calm women are dangerous."
"She wasn't dangerous," Ethan said automatically.
Marcus froze. Slowly turned. "You defended her. Already."
Ethan frowned. "I stated a fact."
"You never state facts about women you don't care about," Marcus said. "You categorize them. This one skipped categories."
Ethan leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "This is not happening."
Marcus pulled up a chair and sat far too comfortably. "On the bright side, congratulations."
"For what?" Ethan asked flatly.
"You're officially human."
Ethan shot him a glare. "If you say 'fatherhood looks good on you,' I'll fire you."
Marcus laughed. "Relax. I was going to say karma finally found your address."
Ethan exhaled sharply. "Do you have any idea how many people would love to hear this?"
"Oh, absolutely," Marcus said. "Board members, tabloids, exes this is premium entertainment."
"This stays between us," Ethan warned.
Marcus raised his hands. "Scout's honor. Though I will tease you privately for the rest of your life."
"Wonderful."
Marcus leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "So. Be honest. Were you… careful?"
Ethan stared at him.
Marcus winced. "That's a no."
"It was one night," Ethan said defensively. "I don't make a habit of—"
"—planning tomorrow," Marcus finished. "Yes, yes. I know your philosophy. Live fast, leave early."
Ethanglared. "You're enjoying this."
"I'm thriving," Marcus corrected. "I've watched you dodge commitment like it was contagious. Now look at you."
He gestured broadly. "Ambushed by biology."
Ethan's phone buzzed on the desk.
He ignored it.
Marcus smirked. "Is that her?"
"No."
"Shame. I wanted to see you panic again."
Ethan finally laughed short, humorless. "What am I supposed to do, Marcus?"
Marcus shrugged. "Step one: confirm it's yours."
"And step two?"
Marcus tilted his head. "Figure out whether you're the kind of man who runs… or stays."
Ethan went quiet.
Marcus noticed. He softened his tone just a bit. "You don't have to decide everything today."
"I don't even remember her name," Ethan muttered.
Marcus blinked. "You're joking."
"I'm not."
"Wow," Marcus said slowly. "This is either a tragedy or the beginning of personal growth. I hate both options for you."
Ethan snorted despite himself.
Marcus leaned back, folding his arms. "But listen if it's yours, you don't get to pretend it didn't happen."
"I never pretend," Ethan said.
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You literally pretended mornings didn't exist."
"Minor detail."
Marcus stood, clapping his hands once. "Alright. I'll handle security. Discretion. Background checks. And if anyone breathes a word of this"
"They won't," Ethan said.
Marcus smiled. "That's my job."
He paused at the door, then turned back. "For what it's worth?"
Ethan looked up.
"You don't look scared," Marcus said. "You look… shaken."
Ethan didn't respond.
Marcus nodded to himself. "Yeah. That tracks."
He opened the door, then added casually, "Also, if you need baby-name advice, don't ask me."
Ethan groaned. "Get out."
Marcus laughed, already halfway down the hall. "Welcome to tomorrow, Ethan Blackwood!"
The door closed.
Ethan sat alone in his office, staring at the city skyline.
Ethan stood so suddenly his chair rolled back and hit the glass wall behind him.
Marcus, who had just reached the door, stopped and turned. "—and there it is."
Ethan grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, shrugging it on with sharp, restless movements.
His keys followed snatched from the desk like they might disappear if he hesitated another second.
"I need to see her again," Ethan said.
Marcus blinked. "Wow. No denial phase? No dramatic pacing? No staring into the city pretending you don't care?"
"I don't have time," Ethan snapped, already moving toward the door.
Marcus stepped aside, eyes widening. "You're going to chase the woman who just told you she's pregnant?"
"I'm going to confirm the truth," Ethan said. "Now."
Marcus fell into step beside him as they walked briskly down the corridor. "You realize this is wildly out of character for you."
"Then stop commenting on it."
Marcus grinned. "I can't. This is historic."
The elevator doors slid open. They stepped inside.
"So," Marcus continued, undeterred, "what are you going to say? 'Hello, sorry I accused you of lying, please pee on this stick'?"
Ethan shot him a glare. "I'm asking for a DNA test. Professionally."
"Ah yes," Marcus said. "Nothing says romance like medical verification."
"This isn't romance."
Marcus raised his hands. "Just checking."
The elevator dinged. Doors opened. Ethan was already halfway out before Marcus finished speaking.
"Do you even know where she went?" Marcus called after him.
Ethan paused.
Then, quietly, "No."
Marcus laughed. "Of course you don't."
_____________________________________
Twenty minutes later, Ethan stood outside a small café two blocks from his office—the same place she'd mentioned in passing while turning away earlier. He didn't know why he'd remembered. He just had.
She was there.
Seated near the window, hands wrapped around a cup she wasn't drinking, gaze distant.
Ethan hesitated.
For the first time that day, doubt crept in not about the situation, but about himself. He didn't barge in. Didn't command the space the way he usually did.
He walked in like a man who needed answers.
She looked up as he approached, surprise flashing across her face then guarded calm.
"I thought you said you wouldn't contact me again," she said.
"I lied," Ethan replied honestly. "About that."
She sighed. "What do you want?"
"A DNA test," he said directly. "As soon as possible."
Her jaw tightened. "I knew this was coming."
"This isn't an accusation," he added quickly. "It's clarity. For both of us."
She studied him for a long moment, as if weighing something far heavier than his request.
Finally, she nodded. "Fine."
Ethan exhaled—something he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"But," she continued, meeting his eyes, "once the results are in, you don't get to pretend this didn't happen. Whatever the truth is."
Ethan didn't look away. "I won't."
She stood, grabbing her coat. "Then let's get it over with."
As they walked out together, Ethan felt it again that unfamiliar, unsettling sense that this wasn't just about proof.
This was the moment his life stopped being hypothetical.
And started becoming real.
The clinic was quieter than Ethan expected.
White walls. Soft lighting. The kind of calm that made everything feel heavier instead of lighter. He checked the name on the glass door twice to make sure this was really happening.
She stood a few steps away from him, arms crossed, eyes fixed on a poster about prenatal care like it held answers neither of them wanted yet.
"This didn't have to be today," she said without looking at him.
"Yes, it did," Ethan replied. "If we delay it, we'll just imagine worse things."
She glanced at him then. "You're very confident for someone who looks like he hasn't slept."
He ignored that.
The nurse called her name. She moved first, shoulders squared, walking in like this was something she'd already accepted.
Ethan followed, hands in his pockets, suddenly aware that no amount of money or authority worked here.
Inside, everything moved efficiently.
Forms were signed. Questions were asked. Neutral, professional, painfully ordinary questions that made the situation feel anything but.
The nurse smiled politely. "You can wait outside. Results will take some time."
"How much time?" Ethan asked.
"A few hours," she said. "We'll call."
A few hours.
She nodded once, already standing. Ethan followed her back into the waiting area, where they chose seats far enough apart to avoid touching, close enough to feel the tension anyway.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then she said, "You didn't have to come."
"I know."
"You still did."
"Yes."
She studied him quietly. "Why?"
Ethan leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "Because if it's mine, I need to know immediately. And if it's not—"
He stopped.
"If it's not?" she prompted.
"Then you deserve to walk away knowing the truth," he finished. "Not my doubts."
She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "That's… fair."
Silence returned.
A man across the room flipped through a magazine. A phone buzzed somewhere. Time crawled.
"This is the longest I've ever sat without checking my phone," Ethan muttered.
She almost smiled.
Almost.
"Whatever happens," she said quietly, "this doesn't change who I am."
Ethan turned to her. "And what's that?"
"Someone who won't disappear," she said. "With or without you."
For the first time since she'd walked into his office, Ethan had no clever response.
The nurse's desk phone rang.
Both of them looked up instantly.
But it wasn't for them.
Minutes stretched again.
Ethan checked the clock on the wall. Then checked it again, like the numbers might rearrange themselves if he stared hard enough.
This was worse than negotiations. Worse than hostile takeovers.
This was waiting.
Finally, his phone vibrated in his pocket.
Unknown number.
He didn't answer immediately.
Neither of them spoke as he stared at the screen, knowing that whatever was on the other end would change everything.
He stood slowly.
And that was where the chapter ended
with answers close enough to feel,
and the future hanging on a single call.