The two pink lines on the test blurred as your vision swam, your fingers tightening around the plastic stick. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be.

Your heart pounded violently in your chest, the air in your bathroom suddenly too thick, too suffocating. A one-night stand. That was all it was supposed to be. A reckless, impulsive mistake after one too many drinks and a need to forget your problems—just for one night.

You didn’t even know his name.

You pressed a trembling hand to your stomach, nausea rolling through you—not just from the pregnancy, but from the terrifying reality of it all.

What were you going to do?

A sharp knock on your bedroom door startled you, dragging you back into the moment. Your mother’s voice filtered through. “Hurry up, sweetheart. We can’t keep them waiting.”

Right. The engagement meeting. The man you were supposed to marry.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, shoving the test into the drawer and splashing cold water on your face. You had no choice but to push this aside—for now. Whoever he was, he was long gone, a nameless stranger in the past. Your future had already been decided.

With unsteady legs, you made your way downstairs to the grand dining hall, where your parents and his were waiting. And then you saw him.

The man standing at the far end of the room, dressed in a sharp suit, his presence commanding, his dark eyes locking onto yours the second you entered.

Your breath caught in your throat.

It was him.

The man from that night.

Your one-night stand.

Your fiancé.

His gaze flickered with recognition, and then—slowly, deliberately—a smirk curled at the corner of his lips. A knowing, almost lazy smirk that sent a cold shiver down your spine.

Panic coiled in your chest as he tilted his head ever so slightly, dark eyes glinting with amusement. He knew.