Cassie Lin had never felt this kind of silence before. Not the comforting kind she'd grown used to in quiet mornings with coffee and soft music, or the professional hush of her interior design studio. This silence was suffocating — tight around her ribs, loud in her ears, and impossible to escape.
She sat in the sleek, too-bright waiting room of the Manhattan Fertility Institute, her phone gripped tightly in one hand, her nails digging into the leather strap of her purse. Everything in the room was white. White walls. White chairs. White smiles on glossy posters showing perfect families with babies and soft pink blankets. One of them read: *"One step closer to your miracle."*
She wanted to laugh. Or cry.
Maybe both.
She'd gotten her miracle. A positive pregnancy test just this morning. Two blue lines that changed everything. She should've been celebrating with Nathan, her fiancé. Instead, she was here—summoned suddenly by the clinic without explanation, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Her phone buzzed again.
> **Nathan:** *Can't make it. Emergency with Thorne Group. You'll be fine without me, right?*
Cassie exhaled sharply through her nose. Typical. Nathan had always been good at making her feel supported from a distance—just far enough away to avoid being truly accountable.
She wanted to be angry, but she couldn't afford it. This wasn't about feelings. This was business. Strategy.
Her mother's will had made that brutally clear.
*"The Lin Estate shall pass only to a direct biological heir of Cassandra Lin."*
No child, no inheritance.
It wasn't about greed. Her mother's estate wasn't just money — it was her legacy. Her father's architecture firm. The brownstone on East 73rd. The art gallery her mother poured her soul into before cancer stole everything but her pride.
So Cassie and Nathan had agreed. IVF was clean. Legal. Controlled.
Until it wasn't.
A door opened. A nurse in pale blue scrubs called her name softly. "Miss Lin? Dr. Patel will see you now."
Cassie stood, legs feeling like rubber. She followed the nurse down a quiet hall into a private consultation room where Dr. Yvonne Patel sat waiting, her usually composed expression tight with unease.
"Thank you for coming in on such short notice," the doctor said.
Cassie forced a polite smile. "It sounded urgent."
"It is," Dr. Patel replied. "And I need you to remain calm."
That never meant good news.
Cassie sat slowly, her heart beginning to pound.
Dr. Patel folded her hands on the table. "Your recent IVF cycle was completed two weeks ago. We have confirmed early pregnancy, as expected."
Cassie nodded, holding her breath.
"However," the doctor continued carefully, "there has been an error. A serious one."
A strange ringing began in Cassie's ears.
"What kind of error?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
Dr. Patel's mouth tightened. "The sperm sample used in your procedure… was not from Mr. Nathan Graham."
Cassie blinked. The words didn't register.
"What?" she said blankly.
"We've verified it through multiple genetic markers. There was a labeling mishap in our cryogenic storage system. The sample used… belongs to Mr. Julian Thorne."
Everything inside Cassie went still.
Julian Thorne?
No. No, it couldn't be. That name was a nightmare. A living ghost that haunted both her personal pride and her professional reputation.
Julian Thorne — CEO of Thorne Global. Billionaire. Ruthless. Unapproachable. He was Nathan's biggest rival in business and the man who had once publicly eviscerated one of her designs during a corporate pitch, dismissing it as "superficial fluff with no soul." She had never forgiven him. She'd never even spoken to him.
And now she was carrying his child?
"That… that's impossible," she said, standing up so fast her chair scraped backward. "There must be a mistake."
"I wish there were," Dr. Patel said gently. "We're reviewing our protocols. But there's no doubt. The sample was his."
Cassie stared at the floor, her pulse roaring in her ears. Her whole body felt like it was shaking from the inside.
"Does he know?" she asked, her throat dry.
Dr. Patel hesitated.
Oh God.
"You told him," Cassie said, the dread rising like bile. "You already told him."
"We were legally obligated," Dr. Patel replied. "He has a right to know as the biological parent."
Cassie barely heard her. She grabbed her purse, pushing through the door without another word.
---
The chill outside hit her like a slap.
Wind tore through the city, catching the edges of her coat as she stumbled down the clinic's stone steps. Her hands were shaking. People passed her by — faces in coats, noses in phones — and none of them knew that her world had just split in two.
How could this be happening?
She'd made every decision carefully. Every step calculated. Nathan would never forgive this. Julian would never believe it was an accident. And the baby—her baby—
A sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb.
Her heart dropped into her stomach.
The back window slid down with a soft mechanical whir.
Julian Thorne.
Exactly as she remembered — tall, sharp-featured, magnetic in a dangerous way. He wore a charcoal suit and no tie, just an open collar and a gaze that could slice through steel. His pale blue eyes met hers with eerie calm.
"Miss Lin," he said coolly. "Get in."
Cassie took a step back. "Absolutely not."
"You're not thinking clearly."
"I'm thinking perfectly clearly," she snapped. "Stay away from me."
He opened the door and stepped out, unfazed by her hostility. On the sidewalk, under the glow of a streetlamp, he looked like he had walked out of a power fantasy: polished, poised, and completely unreadable.
"You're pregnant with my child," he said.
"I didn't plan this!" she fired back. "It was the clinic's fault."
"Convenient," he murmured. "A woman engaged to my competitor ends up pregnant with *my* child. I'm not easily fooled, Miss Lin."
Her hand rose before she realized it. She slapped him.
The sound cracked across the street like a gunshot.
He didn't flinch.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly. "I take it you're not a fan of coincidences either."
"You arrogant—"
"Enough." His voice dropped. "You're pregnant. I have a right to protect what's mine."
"I'm not yours," she said coldly.
"But the baby is."
Cassie's chest heaved.
Julian stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You want to keep the child?"
"Yes."
"Then we'll do this the clean way."
She stared at him. "What are you saying?"
"I'm offering you a contract. Legal. Controlled."
"You want custody?"
"No," he said. "I want *you.*"
She froze.
"What?"
"I want you to marry me," he said calmly. "We make it public. Control the narrative. You keep your inheritance. I protect the child from scandal, media, and any influence from Nathan Graham."
She laughed, short and bitter. "You're insane."
"Perhaps." He pulled a business card from his pocket and tucked it into her coat. "But I'm also very good at solving problems."
"This isn't a business deal."
"It is now."
He turned, stepping back into the car.
"You have forty-eight hours," he said as the door shut behind him. "Marry me, Miss Lin… or give me my child."
The Maybach disappeared into traffic, leaving only a gust of wind and the sharp scent of cologne in his wake.
Cassie stood frozen on the sidewalk, the card burning in her pocket, the weight of his words crashing over her like a tidal wave.
His child.
His terms.
Forty-eight hours to decide.