Chapter Three

Diana's POV

I turn my face away and bite down on my lip, saying nothing.

He reaches out and grabs my chin, forcing me to turn back and meet his eyes. I can see the red creeping through the whites of his eyes, and his chest is heaving.

“Whose is it?”

“Why is that any of your business?” I slap his hand away. “Weston, let go of me! We’re in a hospital!”

“I’m asking you who that bastard is!” His voice suddenly jumps in volume, something close to madness spilling out of his eyes.

I flinch at the sound of his shout.

I’ve never seen Weston like this before. In my head, he’s always the one with everything under control, always the one smirking at me while I lose my temper. But right now, he looks like some animal that just got its rawest nerve touched, ready to tear the whole world apart.

Why is he this furious?

Because he thinks I have no shame? Or because he thinks his rival, the one he’s been quietly “looking out for” all this time, just got beaten to the punch by somebody else?

Pride sits in my throat like a wall, blocking every word. There is no way I’m telling him that bastard is him.

“What, Weston, you run everything else, now you want to run my personal life too?” I force my voice steady and let out a cold laugh. “I’m twenty-six. If I want to date somebody and get pregnant, is that a crime?”

“Date somebody?” Weston laughs, and it’s the furthest thing from real laughter, his fingers trembling slightly where they grip my chin. “You live in that lab. Who, one of your lab rats? Diana, which piece of garbage did this to you? He gets you pregnant and then what, he’s just gone? Why isn’t he here with you for the checkup?”

“He...” The words die in my throat.

Right then, a warm, easy voice comes from down the hall.

“Diana? You done with your checkup?”

I look over. It’s Marcus. My senior from college, and now a coworker too. He’s got two cups of hot milk in his hands, walking our way fast.

Marcus knows I’m pregnant. A few days ago the morning sickness got so bad I passed out in the lab, and he’s the one who got me to the hospital. But he has no idea who the father is.

The second I see him, some reckless idea flashes through my head.

“He’s here.” I look at Weston, take a deep breath, shove his hand off me, and stand up to meet Marcus.

I walk up to Marcus and loop my arm through his. “This is Marcus. My senior from college. And also... the father of the baby I’m carrying.”

Marcus goes rigid, the milk in his hands almost sloshing out. He stares at me, stunned, and I dig my fingers into his arm hard, begging him with my eyes to just play along.

Marcus has no clue what’s going on, but one look at Weston’s murderous face and he swallows hard and nods. “H... hey.”

Weston’s eyes drop to where my arm is looped through Marcus’s, and for a second, I swear I hear something inside him crack.

The temperature around him drops to freezing. It feels like his whole presence is pressing down on the entire hallway.

He stares Marcus down like he’s looking at a corpse.

“You?” Weston lets out a short laugh, and there’s nothing warm in it, just a cold that crawls under your skin. “A piece of garbage like you thinks he gets to touch her?”

“Weston, watch your mouth!” I plant myself in front of Marcus instantly.

Weston watches me shield somebody else, and the red in his eyes burns even darker.

“Fine. Good.” He nods, backing away one step at a time, his stare never leaving me for a second. “Diana. You’ve got some nerve.”

He turns and strides off down the hallway, fast and sharp.

I watch him disappear toward the elevator, and every bit of strength drains out of me. I let go of Marcus’s hand, lean against the wall, and try to catch my breath in ragged gulps.

“Diana, what is actually going on here?” Marcus looks at me, worried. “That was Weston Ambrose, from Crestline Capital, right? He’s the father?”

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this today.” I give him a bitter little smile, my hand resting on my still-flat stomach.

Marcus sighs. “Diana, from the way he acted, he doesn’t seem like the type to just walk away from something like this. I think you should sit down and actually talk to him.”

I shake my head. “He’s not going to want this baby.”

Three months ago, as the company’s lead researcher, I went with my boss to that gala to expand our partnerships.

It was the kind of event I usually hated, all forced smiles and business cards, but skipping it wasn’t an option for someone in my position.

I never expected to run into Weston there.

And I definitely never expected that somebody had drugged him that night.

I saw him from a distance, his steps unsteady as he headed for the exit. Without thinking, I went to check if he was okay, and the second I got close, he pulled me into his room.