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But then something slipped out and landed on the floor with a soft clink.
I frowned and crouched down, picking it up.
It was a small box.
I turned it over.
And froze.
Pregnancytest kit.
A rush of adrenaline shot through me as I stared at it, my mind blanking for a solid five seconds before logic kicked in.
Maybe it wasn’t hers. Maybe she had bought it for a friend.
But deep down, I knew.
Scarlett was pregnant.
And I had no damn idea how to feel about it.
14
CHRISTIAN
Scarlett’s pursesat on my desk like a silent accusation. The pregnancy test box I’d found inside felt heavier than it should, like the weight of an entire future compressed into a small, plastic-wrapped reality.
My pulse pounded in my ears as I sat there, staring at it, trying to process what this meant—what we meant now.
She was pregnant.
Scarlett was carrying my child.
And she hadn’t told me.
I clenched my jaw and exhaled slowly, forcing myself to think. This wasn’t something I could shove to the side, not something I could handle later. I needed to see her. Now.
I grabbed my phone, called her number. It rang. And rang.
Voicemail.
That only made my chest tighten further.
I wasn’t going to do this over the phone anyway.
Grabbing my keys, I stormed out of my office, heading straight for my car.
Scarlett had spent so long fighting for her business, for her reputation. She had pushed me away to protect all of it. But this? This wasn’t just about the restaurant anymore.
This was us.
And I wasn’t going to let her shut me out.
The moment she opened her apartment door, her brows furrowed in confusion.
“Christian? What are you?—”
I didn’t wait.