The clinic doors swung shut behind us, and I still couldn't feel my legs. My body moved on autopilot while my mind raced through the implications of everything that had just happened.
Arnold Ashford's offer echoed in my head like a song I couldn't stop hearing.
The money. The marriage. The threat wrapped in silk and delivered with a smile. The eyewitnesses who unknowingly threw me into the sharks' mouths.
Brianna was the opposite of my silence.
"What did they say to you? What did that old bastard want? I swear to God, Kitty, if he threatened you, I will find a way to make his life miserable.”
She was loud, indignant, her voice rising with every step we took toward the parking lot.
“I don't care how much money he has—rich people bleed just like everyone else, and I know where to buy a knife."
"Bri."
"And Damon just stood there like a useless decoration! What kind of man lets his father barge into a medical facility and terrorize the woman carrying his child? A coward, that's who. A spineless, trust-fund coward who's never had to—"
"Brianna." I stopped walking, and she nearly crashed into me. "I need you to breathe."
She took a breath. It didn't help much. "I'm breathing. I'm also plotting. The two aren't mutually exclusive."
I was about to respond when I spotted him—Damon, leaning against a sleek black car in the parking lot, arms crossed, clearly waiting.
For me.
Brianna saw him at the same moment I did. She tensed immediately, positioning herself between us like a human shield, every line of her body screaming protective rage.
"Oh, hell no. He does not get to ambush you twice in one day. I'm not leaving you alone with him."
"I can handle it."
"Kitty…"
"Go." I softened my voice, just slightly. "I'll call you later. I promise."
She hesitated, throwing Damon a look that promised creative violence if he tried anything. He had the good sense to look uncomfortable.
Finally, reluctantly, she headed toward her car, glancing back twice before driving away with obvious reluctance.
I approached Damon with my armor firmly in place.
He looked different out here than he had in the clinic—less like his father's shadow and more like himself, which wasn't necessarily an improvement. His usual lazy confidence was nowhere to be found.
Whatever he was about to say, he wasn't happy about it.
I braced myself for round two of Ashford pressure tactics. Maybe he'd echo his father's demands in softer packaging, dress them up in charm and false concern.
Keep the baby. Accept the deal. Fall in line like a good girl.
Instead, he said, "Don't agree."
I blinked. "What?"
"Whatever my father offered you, whatever he said in there—don't agree to it."
His voice was urgent, almost desperate, stripped of the careless ease I was used to hearing.
"I'll find money to pay you myself. I'll help you leave the country if you have to, start over somewhere he can't reach. Just don't let him drag us both into this nightmare."
The words landed wrong. Everything about this landed wrong.
My temper flared, hot and immediate.
"Let me make sure I'm understanding this correctly—you're worried about being dragged into something? You? The guy who got me pregnant and got back to his comfortable life while I dealt with the consequences alone?"
"That's not—"
"So I'm the one dragging you in? Sorry, was it my sperm that got you pregnant, or the other way around?"
His jaw tightened, the mask of concern cracking to reveal frustration underneath.
"You asked me to do it! You literally told me not to worry about protection, that you were on birth control, that it was fine. I was just following your lead."
"And you had the good sense to refuse? Oh wait—you didn't, because you were thinking with something other than your brain."
"I was dead drunk!"
"So was I!" My voice rose to match his, the argument crackling between us like a live wire. "Are we done shifting blame now? Will you now leave me alone and let me figure out how to fix the mess we both made?"
We stood there in the parking lot, both breathing hard, the tension so thick I could taste it. Damon exhaled slowly, visibly forcing himself to calm down, though the strain showed in every line of his body.
"You have no idea what you'd be getting into if you accepted my father's offer." His voice was quieter now, but the urgency hadn't faded. "A forced marriage wouldn't be a business arrangement, it would be another chain around both our necks."
I listened. I heard every word.
And I felt nothing.
Nothing but the cold recognition of a pattern I'd seen a hundred times before—rich kids panicking when their cushioned existence faced the slightest disruption.
He wasn't worried about me. He wasn't thinking about what I was sacrificing, what I stood to lose, how I'd cope if everything fell apart. He was thinking about himself, the way people like him always did.
"Let me be clear."
My voice came out flat, clipped, offering no warmth.
"I don't want to be tied to you any more than you want to be tied to me. Marriage, contract, baby—none of it fits into the life I'm building. I have no intention of letting your family derail my plans."
"Good." He nodded, but something unreadable flickered across his face. "Then we're on the same page."
"Apparently so."
We stood there like two people negotiating a ceasefire rather than discussing a shared future. No common ground except mutual rejection, no bond except the accident that had brought us here.
Damon turned to leave, shoving his hands into his pockets. He took a few steps, then paused, throwing one last line over his shoulder. His voice was harder than before, stripped of desperation and filled with something colder.
"If you're stupid enough to accept my father's offer, I'll make you regret it."
Then he was gone, climbing into his expensive car and pulling away without looking back.
I watched him go, his words hanging in the air—a promise or a threat, I couldn't tell which. I should have felt reassured.
We were on the same page. Neither of us wanted this.
Instead, I just felt more alone than before. Caught between Arnold's pressure and Damon's warning. No clear path forward.
A decision I never wanted to make, and no good options left to choose from.