The city never really slept, but tonight, it felt like it was holding its breath.
Rain came down hard against the glass walls of the Cole Dynamics tower, blurring the skyline into streaks of silver and gold. Thirty floors above the street, Adrian Cole stood by his office window, staring at the reflection he'd grown to hate — the kind of man who looked like he had everything, yet felt nothing.
He was supposed to be celebrating.
Another investor deal closed.
Another zero added to his fortune.
Instead, he was alone, a glass of scotch untouched in his hand, listening to the city's heartbeat echo in the rain.
Two years ago, this same view had felt alive — when Lena Rivers would wrap her arms around him and talk about the future. Marriage. Family. A life beyond the numbers and contracts.
Now, those memories burned like old scars he couldn't scrub away.
He turned from the window.
Work. That's what kept the ghosts away.
But just as he reached for his phone, the security intercom buzzed.
> "Mr. Cole," his assistant's voice crackled through. "There's… someone here to see you."
Adrian frowned. "At this hour?"
> "She says it's urgent. She—uh—refused to give her name."
He almost told her to send the stranger away — until he caught the slight hesitation in her tone.
> "Sir… she looks like she's been through something."
A flicker of curiosity stirred — unwanted, but sharp.
"Send her up," he said finally.
Minutes later, the elevator chimed.
When the doors slid open, the world seemed to still.
She stood there — drenched in rain, hair clinging to her face, eyes wide and unsteady.
Lena.
Adrian froze. His chest tightened like a fist closing around his ribs.
He hadn't spoken her name out loud in two years, yet here she was, saying everything without a word.
"Adrian…" she whispered, her voice barely holding together.
He should have felt anger. Shock. Even hatred.
But all he felt was disbelief.
She looked thinner, paler. Her hands trembled as she brushed wet hair from her face. And then he saw it — the small but unmistakable curve beneath her coat.
His breath caught.
"Lena… what—"
She didn't let him finish.
"I didn't know where else to go."
Her voice cracked, raw and desperate.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Only the rain spoke — tapping softly against the glass like the city itself was listening.
Adrian stepped closer. "You shouldn't be here."
"I know." She bit her lip, trembling harder. "But I didn't have a choice."
His eyes flicked down again. "You're… pregnant."
Her silence was the only confirmation he needed.
Something inside him twisted painfully — confusion, anger, and a rush of old emotions he thought he'd buried.
"Who's the father?" he asked quietly.
Lena looked up at him then, and her eyes — God, those eyes — were full of a truth he didn't want to hear.
"You," she said. "It's yours."
The words hit harder than a bullet.
Adrian took a step back, his heartbeat roaring in his ears. "That's impossible. You disappeared. You left me without a word. You think you can just—"
"I didn't want to!" she snapped, her voice cracking under the weight of something broken. "You don't understand what they—"
She stopped herself, clamping a hand over her mouth.
"What they what?" Adrian pressed, his tone sharp.
Her gaze darted toward the elevator doors, as if expecting someone — or something — to follow her in.
"I can't talk here," she whispered. "Please. They'll find me."
"Who?"
Her answer came in a shiver. "Everyone."
Adrian stared at her, and for the first time in years, he felt something he couldn't control — fear.
Lena was terrified, and not just of him.
He took a slow breath, forcing himself to stay calm.
"Sit down," he said finally. "Start from the beginning."
But she didn't move.
Instead, she gripped his arm, eyes wide with panic. "No, Adrian. You don't get it. You're in danger too."
He froze.
"What are you talking about?"
Her voice lowered to a trembling whisper.
"It's about your father's company… about what they did before he died. And about why they want this baby."
Lightning flashed across the glass behind them, painting her face in white and shadow.
Before Adrian could respond, the lights flickered — once, twice — then steadied again.
Lena's breath hitched. "They're already watching."
Adrian turned toward the window. Far below, in the reflection of the glass, a black car idled near the curb — headlights on, unmoving, waiting.
When he looked back at her, she was crying.
"Please," she whispered. "Don't send me away this time."
And in that instant — against logic, anger, and reason — Adrian made the first mistake of his life.
He believed her.