Chapter 1: The Night That Changed Everything
By Sudhanshu Thakur
The rain poured relentlessly outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning the city lights into blurred streaks of gold and silver.
I wasn't supposed to be here.
That was the first thought that entered my mind when I opened my eyes.
The ceiling above me was unfamiliar—smooth white marble detailing, a crystal chandelier hanging elegantly in the center. This wasn't my tiny apartment with peeling paint and flickering tube lights.
My head throbbed.
A dull ache pulsed behind my eyes as fragments of last night surfaced like broken glass.
Music.
Laughter.
Too many drinks.
And a pair of dark, unreadable eyes watching me from across the bar.
My breathing slowed.
There was warmth behind me.
Not just warmth.
A strong arm wrapped securely around my waist.
My heart skipped.
Carefully—slowly—I looked down.
Bare skin.
My skin.
The bedsheet barely covered me.
Panic crawled up my spine.
I turned my head.
And saw him.
Even asleep, he looked powerful.
Sharp jawline. Perfectly sculpted features. Dark hair falling slightly over his forehead. His chest rose and fell steadily, calm and controlled—like the storm outside didn't dare disturb him.
This wasn't just any man.
This was the kind of man who belonged to skyscrapers and boardrooms.
Not to girls like me.
Memories crashed into me.
I had lost my job yesterday.
My best friend dragged me to the bar, insisting I needed to "forget the world for one night."
He had approached me calmly.
Confidently.
"You look like someone who needs an escape," he had said.
His voice had been low. Controlled. Dangerous.
I should have walked away.
But I didn't.
I nodded.
God… I had nodded.
My stomach twisted.
This wasn't a dream.
This was real.
And I had made the biggest mistake of my life.
As if sensing my movement, his grip tightened slightly.
Then his eyes opened.
Dark.
Sharp.
Alert in a second.
No confusion.
No awkwardness.
Just quiet observation.
"Good morning."
His voice was deep. Smooth. Emotionless.
I swallowed hard. "I… I need to leave."
He studied me for a moment. His gaze wasn't gentle. It was calculating.
"You were certain last night," he said evenly.
Heat rushed to my face.
"I wasn't thinking clearly."
"That much is obvious."
There was no cruelty in his tone.
Just truth.
He released me and sat up, completely unbothered by his lack of clothing. He reached for his phone on the bedside table, already detached from what had happened.
Like it was routine.
Like I was routine.
"You can use the bathroom," he said. "Your dress is near the door."
No name.
No apology.
No emotional aftermath.
Just instructions.
I quickly wrapped the sheet around myself and rushed to the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
My reflection stared back.
Messy hair. Smudged mascara. A faint mark near my collarbone.
Tears filled my eyes.
I wasn't reckless.
I wasn't this girl.
But something inside me had broken last night.
And I had let a stranger hold the pieces.
I washed my face and dressed quickly.
When I stepped out, he was already in a perfectly tailored grey suit.
Immaculate.
Powerful.
Untouchable.
He looked like he owned the world.
He glanced at me briefly.
"Driver will drop you."
"That's not necessary," I replied quickly.
"It wasn't a suggestion."
His tone was calm—but final.
I forced myself to meet his gaze.
"Last night doesn't change anything. We don't know each other."
A pause.
"That's correct," he said.
Relief flickered inside me.
He stepped closer—close enough for me to feel his presence again.
"Which is why it will remain insignificant."
Insignificant.
The word echoed painfully in my chest.
I nodded.
"Yes."
That's what I wanted.
Right?
Without another word, he opened the door.
And I walked out.
Believing I would never see him again.
Three Weeks Later
The nausea started in the morning.
At first, I blamed stress.
Job rejections were piling up. Bills were overdue.
But when the dizziness didn't stop, fear slowly replaced denial.
I stood in the pharmacy aisle staring at a small white box.
Pregnancy Test.
This was ridiculous.
It had only been one night.
Back in my apartment, I locked the bathroom door.
My hands trembled as I followed the instructions.
Then I placed the test on the counter.
Thirty seconds.
Forty.
A full minute.
My heart pounded violently in my chest.
Then—
Two lines.
Bright.
Clear.
Unmistakable.
The world tilted.
"No…" I whispered.
This couldn't be happening.
Not now.
Not like this.
I slid down to the cold bathroom floor, staring at the test in disbelief.
That night.
That stranger.
That billionaire with eyes like steel.
I didn't even know his name.
Tears streamed silently down my cheeks.
One night.
One mistake.
And now…
I was carrying his child.