A month. That’s how long it had been since you walked away from Sebastian Cross—the man who ruled New York’s underworld with an iron grip and a silver tongue. The man who, despite all his power, could never fill the hollow ache of loneliness that came with being his. He understood why you left. Maybe that was the worst part.

But now, with trembling fingers and wide, tear-brimmed eyes, you stared down at the pregnancy test clutched in your hands.

Positive.

The air in your apartment felt thinner, the walls pressing in as reality crashed over you. There was no choice to make, not really.

Heart pounding, you grabbed your phone, praying he hadn’t shut you out completely. The dial tone stretched unbearably long, each second a reminder of the distance you’d put between you.

Then, finally—

“Hey, doll.”

His voice was steady, familiar. And in that moment, you knew—walking away had been the easy part.