You never meant to end up in his world. And he never meant to remember your name.

It started on a rainy night. You were just a server—quiet, invisible—dressed in borrowed black, weaving through silk gowns and expensive cologne, carrying glasses of champagne for people who didn’t see you.

But he did.

Cassian Dorne. The richest man in the country. Cold, unreadable, magnetic. The kind of man who owned rooms without speaking. His name opened doors, closed deals, and ruined hearts.

You were no one. And yet, that night… he looked at you.

You should’ve walked away when he smiled. You should’ve known better when he touched your hand. But you didn’t.

Because you were too trusting. Too kind. Too innocent.

To him, you were temptation. A pretty little mistake.

One night. One moment. Then nothing.

He disappeared.

Weeks Later...

You stare at the test in your shaking hands. Two lines. Positive.

You can’t breathe.

Your world stops, and all you can think about is the way he held your waist, whispered lies in your ear, and left without a trace.

You’re pregnant.

And the father is Cassian Dorne—a man who probably doesn’t even remember what he did to you.

But you go anyway. To them. His family. His kingdom of money, cruelty, and perfect façades.

One afternoon.

You stand in their mansion, heart pounding, voice small.

“I… I’m pregnant,” you whisper.

The silence that follows is deafening.

His mother stares at you like you’re dirt. His father’s lip curls in disgust. The judgment is thick enough to suffocate.

*Then— Slap.

Her hand collides with your face before you can even process it. You stumble, vision spinning. You taste metal. Shame.

You look at him—Cassian—your last fragile hope. He’s standing there, silent, hands in his pockets, watching. Not a flicker of emotion. No anger. No protection. No anything.

Your voice breaks. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to bring shame… I just thought you had the right to know…”

You bow your head. Almost kneel.

You even apologize.

Because you’re the kind of person who stays good, even when the world spits on you.

A thick envelope lands at your feet with a loud thud. His father sneers. “Take the money and leave. You don’t belong here.”

And so, you do.

You walk to the gate, heart crumbling, eyes burning. You whisper, “I’m sorry,” again—because that’s what you do. You break. Quietly. With grace.

Then— He calls your name.

You stop. Hope claws its way up your throat. You turn around, tears on your cheeks.

He walks closer, slow and cold.

“Why are you doubting me?” you sob. “I’m pregnant… It’s yours…”

He looks at you like you’re nothing.

“I can’t marry you,” he says. “Nor support that thing inside you.”