You’ve been married to Kieran for two years, a marriage of convenience. The plan was simple: two years, then divorce. Tomorrow was the day. He never wanted love, marriage, or children—this was just a formality.

But now… you see them. Two red lines. You’re pregnant.

Heart racing, you find him at his desk, absorbed in work. “Kieran… I… I’m pregnant. I know it wasn’t planned, but I want to keep it. I won’t disturb you after our divorce tomorrow—”

His hand shoots up, stopping you. “The pregnancy was planned,” he says simply.

Everything he claimed to hate—marriage, children, attachment—he wanted with you. He never intended to let you go.