Brooklyn didn't notice the camera flashes at first.
She'd just stepped out of the maternity clinic, hoodie pulled low, sunglasses on, and a mask covering half her face. The visit was meant to be quick — a routine checkup, in and out. No drama. No complications.
But the second she turned the corner toward the car Damien had sent for her, the shutters went off like fireworks.
"Mrs. Carter! Is it true you're pregnant?"
"Is the baby Damien's?"
"Why were you hiding at a women's clinic in Westwood?"
Brooklyn froze.
A dozen photographers swarmed her, blocking her path. The questions were shouted in rapid-fire chaos, and all she could do was keep walking, shielding her face with her purse. Her heart pounded.
How did they even know she was there?
Her driver shoved through the crowd, yanked the door open, and pulled her into the backseat just as a reporter lunged forward with a mic.
"Mrs. Carter, is this a scandal waiting to happen?"
The door slammed shut.
Brooklyn's hands trembled in her lap.
This couldn't be happening.
---
At the Penthouse – Thirty Minutes Later
Damien stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, phone in hand, jaw clenched.
Brooklyn sat on the edge of the couch, her coat still wrapped around her, trying to calm her breathing.
"They were everywhere," she whispered.
"I saw," Damien said flatly.
He turned the screen toward her.
A headline blared:
> "Billionaire's Wife Seen Exiting Maternity Clinic Alone — Is There Trouble in Paradise?"
And another:
> "Baby Scandal? Damien Carter's Wife Spotted at Private Women's Hospital. Who's the Father?"
Brooklyn felt sick.
"They followed me," she said quietly. "I was careful, but they must've—"
Damien cut her off. "They weren't following you. Someone tipped them off."
Brooklyn blinked. "What?"
He paced the room, phone now tossed onto the table.
"Someone sold your appointment time. Paparazzi don't camp outside clinics at random."
She wrapped her arms around herself. "Who would do that?"
"I have a few guesses," he muttered darkly.
Then his gaze softened just slightly. "Are you okay?"
"I… I don't know," she admitted.
He walked over and crouched in front of her, his voice low. "This is why I need you to trust me. If you'd told me where you were going, I could've protected you."
"I didn't want to cause drama."
"Brooklyn," he said firmly. "You married into drama. You are the drama now. But you don't have to fight it alone."
Her eyes stung with tears.
Not just because of the headlines, or the stress — but because of the way he looked at her just then.
Not with judgment.
With fierce protectiveness.
---
Later – Damien's Office
Vivienne, Damien's sleek and razor-sharp assistant, stood with her tablet in hand.
"We've already drafted two statements," she said. "One confirming your visit was medical, but denying pregnancy. Another option is to say you're assisting a friend."
Brooklyn stiffened. "You want me to lie?"
Vivienne glanced at Damien, then back at Brooklyn. "We want to protect the narrative."
Brooklyn folded her arms. "What if I don't want to pretend anymore?"
Vivienne raised an eyebrow.
Damien stepped in. "Brooklyn."
"No," she said, voice shaking. "I'm tired of being a secret. If we keep covering it up, they'll keep digging. And if they find out on their own—"
"They won't," Damien said, his voice like steel.
Brooklyn blinked. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because I've buried worse scandals," he replied. "And because I have more power than they do."
She stared at him.
That was the difference between them. He had control.
She had none.
---
That Night – Unexpected Visitor
The doorbell rang around 8 PM.
Brooklyn was curled up on the couch in sweats, exhausted and mentally drained. Damien was on a call upstairs.
She opened the door halfway, expecting a delivery.
Instead, she came face to face with a tall woman in a crimson dress, long legs and sharp cheekbones perfectly posed for trouble.
"Hi," the woman said sweetly. "You must be Brooklyn. I'm Simone."
Brooklyn's heart dropped.
She knew that name.
Simone Caldwell.
Damien's ex-fiancée. The one tabloids called "the only woman he ever truly loved."
"What… are you doing here?" Brooklyn asked warily.
Simone smiled. "We have a lot to talk about."
---
In the Living Room
Brooklyn offered no drink, no hospitality.
Simone made herself at home anyway, perching on the edge of the leather couch like she owned it.
"I'm not here to cause drama," she said, crossing one long leg over the other. "I just thought it was time we met—woman to woman."
Brooklyn folded her arms. "You mean wife to ex?"
Simone smirked. "Touché."
There was a pause.
Simone's eyes flicked toward Brooklyn's stomach. "So, how far along are you?"
Brooklyn didn't answer.
"Don't worry," Simone continued. "I'm not judging. Actually, I admire it. You played it well. Pregnant, struggling, and you land Damien Carter? Not bad, honestly."
Brooklyn felt her blood boil.
"I didn't trap him," she snapped. "And I didn't play anything."
Simone raised a brow. "Didn't you, though?"
Before Brooklyn could respond, Damien walked in.
He froze at the sight of Simone.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he growled.
Simone stood slowly, brushing invisible lint from her dress. "Relax, Damien. I just came to meet your charming new wife."
"You don't belong here."
"Neither does a woman who lies about doctor visits behind your back," Simone said lightly.
Damien stepped in front of Brooklyn protectively. "Leave."
Simone gave a mock-curtsy. "As you wish."
She turned, heels clicking on the marble as she walked away.
But before she reached the door, she looked over her shoulder.
"She's not ready for your world, Damien. And you know it."
Then she was gone.
---
After She Left
Brooklyn sat down slowly, her whole body tense.
"Who invited her?" she whispered.
Damien rubbed his jaw. "No one. She's grasping for relevance again."
Brooklyn looked up. "Is she right?"
Damien's brows furrowed. "About what?"
"That I don't belong in your world."
He crouched in front of her, just like he had earlier, voice low.
"You belong with me."
"But everything's spinning out of control. The press, the lies, your ex showing up like this is a soap opera…"
Damien gave a dry smile. "It kind of is."
Brooklyn let out a breathy laugh, then shook her head. "This wasn't part of the plan."
"Neither were feelings," he said quietly.
Their eyes met.
Brooklyn blinked. "What are we doing, Damien?"
He paused.
Then stood and walked away, his voice distant. "We're surviving."
But Brooklyn wasn't sure that was enough anymore.
---
Midnight – Bedroom
She couldn't sleep.
The media, Simone's words, the way Damien had defended her—it all twisted in her mind like vines she couldn't untangle.
She pulled out her phone.
A new headline had dropped.
> "Carter Marriage Crumbling? Ex-Fiancée Simone Caldwell Pays Sudden Visit to Billionaire's Wife"
Her breath caught.
Then she saw it — a blurred photo from outside the penthouse. Simone arriving. Brooklyn answering the door.
And underneath: Sources close to the couple suggest tensions are rising behind closed doors…
Her chest tightened.
This wasn't going to stop.
Unless she stopped hiding.