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Christian smirked. "Stubborn as always."
His smirk faded as he studied me closer. "Are you okay?"
I hesitated. My fingers curled against my lap.Do I tell him?
Not yet.
I managed a small smile. "I will be."
Something flickered in his eyes, but he didn’t push. Instead, he reached across the table, taking my hand.
The warmth of his skin sent a shiver up my spine.
"We’ll get through this," he murmured.
I held his gaze. "I know."
His thumb brushed over my knuckles, and for a moment, the chaos of the night faded into the background.
I wasn’t just fighting for my restaurant.
I was fighting for us.
Later that night, after Christian had gone, I sat in my office, staring at the unopened pregnancy test in front of me.
I already knew the answer.
But seeing it in writing would make it real.
I took a shaky breath, then picked it up.
A few minutes later, the result appeared.
Positive.
Tears burned my eyes, a swirl of emotions crashing through me. Fear. Joy. Panic.
I placed a hand over my stomach, exhaling slowly.
Not yet, Christian. But soon.
Just as I was about to turn off the light, my phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
I frowned, swiping to read the message.
Step back, Scarlett. Or you’ll lose more than your restaurant.
My blood turned to ice.
I stared at the words, dread curling in my gut.
Whoever wanted me to fail wasn’t done with me.
And this time, they were making it personal.
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