Dominic didn't speak.
He couldn't.
His breath felt like shards in his chest, cutting deeper with every second that passed.
The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city beyond Isabella's tiny apartment window. But inside his head, everything was roaring—memories, questions, fury.
He turned slowly to face her.
"How long?" he asked, voice low.
Isabella's arms were wrapped around herself like she could hold the truth in. But it was too late for that.
"Almost four months," she whispered.
His jaw clenched. "You've known all this time?"
She nodded once.
"You let me hire you. Sit in my office. Talk to me like a stranger—while carrying my child?"
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but her voice didn't waver. "I didn't come looking for you, Dominic. I got the job through a temp agency. I didn't know until it was too late."
"And then you decided to just… keep it secret?" His voice sharpened. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"I protected myself," she snapped, suddenly fierce. "You don't know what it was like for me after that night. You disappeared before I woke up. I didn't have your number, your address, anything. You used a fake name—do you even remember that?"
Dominic's stomach dropped.
He had.
It had been a drunken defense mechanism—just another way to keep intimacy at bay. One night, no strings, no real names.
He hadn't expected to ever see her again.
But now… now everything had changed.
"And when you found out you were pregnant?" he asked tightly. "You still didn't try to find me."
"I didn't think you'd want to know."
His expression turned to stone. "You don't get to make that decision for me."
She looked away, blinking fast.
"It wasn't just about you," she whispered. "I was scared, Dominic. Scared you'd take the baby. Scared you'd use your power to crush me like I was nothing."
He flinched.
Because the worst part?
She was right to be afraid.
Before tonight, that's exactly what he would have done.
But now… now there was a heartbeat in her belly that belonged to him.
A child.
His child.
Dominic backed away slowly, running a hand through his hair. "I need air."
Isabella watched him go, eyes wide with fear—but she didn't stop him.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Dominic stood in the cold night air, leaning against the brick of her building like it could hold him up.
His hands were shaking.
He couldn't remember the last time his hands had shaken.
His mind spun.
He was going to be a father.
It wasn't just the shock. It wasn't even the betrayal.
It was what it meant.
He'd grown up under the cold shadow of his own father—a man who saw children as legacies, not people. A man who'd demanded obedience but never given affection. Dominic had sworn he would never become like him.
And now, standing under the city lights, he realized he had no idea how to be anything else.
But when he closed his eyes, all he could see was Isabella's face—tired, afraid, but still standing.
Still fighting.
For their baby.
He couldn't walk away.
He wouldn't.
Dominic pushed off the wall and turned back toward the door.
Isabella was still on the couch when he returned.
She looked up, startled.
He walked to her slowly, his expression unreadable.
Then, to her shock, he dropped to one knee in front of her.
"I don't know how to do this," he said quietly. "I don't know how to be a father. But I'm going to try."
Her eyes filled again.
"I'm not asking you for anything, Dominic. I just want what's best for—"
"Our child," he interrupted. "Not just yours. Mine. Ours."
He hesitated.
"Let me be part of this."
Her voice was barely a whisper. "You don't even know me."
"I want to."
She stared at him.
And for the first time in months, her walls began to crack.
Not completely.
But enough to let him in.