Julian's POV

I wasn’t sure what I expected when I stepped into Asher Blackwood’s house — maybe something extravagant and too much, the kind of luxury that emphasized on how rich he was.

Instead, the place was unusually quiet and…colourful. Expensive, yes — marble floors, high ceilings, an open living room framed by glass walls that overlooked the city skyline — but it didn’t feel like he was trying too hard to be seen. It felt intentional and welcoming….almost intimidating.

Just like him.

Asher didn’t say much after we walked in. He’d simply taken my suitcases from me, set them near the entryway, and gestured for me to follow him, the scent of cedarwood and something…familiar hanging around the atmosphere.

Don't think about it, Julian. Pretend like it's nothing.

I gasped as we finally reached where he was taking me to. This….this can't be where he wanted me to stay!

The guest room was bigger than my entire apartment before I moved in with Watt. A king-sized bed, plush white sheets, minimalist décor, floor-to-ceiling windows with motorized blinds.

“You can stay here,” he said simply, his hand still on the doorknob as if ready to close it between us at any second. “Don’t wander around the halls, or touch anything out here without permission, else….”

“Y-yes, thank—”

The door closed to my face, cutting me off instantly, leaving me alone with my thoughts…while my hands clenched the hem of my gown in anger and frustration.

As long as I keep my distance away from him, I guess I should be fine.

I'm sure I can get a good night's sleep here.

Wrong.

That night, I couldn't sleep at all.

My body felt heavy, my stomach kept twisting in knots in ways I couldn't understand. I told myself it was stress, the adrenaline crash from leaving Watt before tossing my face under the pillow to doze off, but by morning, the feeling had become even worse.

I couldn't even stand upright without feeling dizzy.

I was exhausted, falling asleep even when standing—which is something I'd never done before. My appetite was so weird — even the smell of my favourite coffee made me nauseous, and instead, I craved orange juice like my whole life suddenly depended on it.

Safe to say that I'd thrown up twice before noon.

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, my skin paler than usual, one hand resting on the sleek edge of the sink. “No,” I whispered to myself, shaking my head at the ridiculous possibility that creeped in. “It’s just stress. It’s nothing. It can't be that.”

It can't be….

But I need to be sure.

Guess avoiding Asher wasn't going to work out because the next minute, I dragged my feet towards where the brewing scent of coffee and toasts were coming from.

“You look like hell,” he said, not even bothering to sugarcoat his words.

Thanks, like I didn't already know that.

Ashed leaned casually against the counter as he sipped his coffee, dressed in a fitted black shirt and slacks like he’d just stepped out of a magazine spread. Typical millionaires.

His eyes moved to me instantly as I entered, scanning me with that watchful sharp gaze.

“I… I think I need to go to the hospital,” I admitted, my voice sounding weak and dry as I leaned against the wall for support, “Please, Asher. I know it's too much b-but…I feel like I'm about to pass out or something.”

He didn’t move at first, just watched me for some minutes as if trying to decide whether I was being dramatic or probably faking to take advantage. Then, without a word, he set his coffee cup down, grabbed his keys, and motioned toward the door.

The least he could do was help me get out.

********

The hospital was bright and sterile, the scent of antiseptic clinging to the air as nurses and patients moved around.

Asher stayed in the waiting area while a nurse led me into an exam room.

With a deep breath, I tried to focus on the questions she asked, the forms and files I had to sign, but my mind kept drifting in and out of reality — until the results came back.

“Congratulations,” the nurse said with a bright smile. “You’re pregnant.”

My heart dropped. “I’m sorry, what? That’s… that's not possible.” The words rolled out my lips before I could stop them. “The last time I—the last time I was with my ex-husband was two years ago.”

Hearing this, the nurse’s smile dropped, confusion spreading across her features as she checked the chart again. “Well… the bloodwork is clear. You’re definitely pregnant, and based on the gestational age, this would be recent. Very recent.”

I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense. I haven’t…” My voice trailed off, a memory sparking in my mind like a lightbulb that was suddenly switched on.

The hospital last year.

“The emergency heart surgery….” I said, but it sounded more like a question.

The blurred days afterward when I was in and out of consciousness. What…what on earth happened then?

After minutes of confused glances and reviews, the nurse hesitated, glancing at her colleague before lowering her voice to confess, “We umm, reviewed your records. There was… an error during a procedure you underwent after your surgery. You were scheduled for a routine check and recovery treatment, but a sample from another patient was mistakenly used during a procedure.”

I blinked at her. “What… procedure?”

“Intrauterine fertilization,” she said carefully. “We believe the sperm sample was mislabeled.”

My mouth went dry. “You’re telling me someone just—” I stopped, my voice shaking, “—put a baby in me by accident?!”

The nurse winced, immediately plastering a smile to calm me down. “It’s—it's rare. No, definitely unheard of! But yes,” She glanced at her clipboard. “We traced the donor. The sperm belongs to… Asher Blackwood.”

For a second, I forgot how to breathe. The sterile white walls seemed to tilt around me as I tried to assimilate the last words she just spilled.

No, no, no!

Noooo!

Of all the men in the world… it had to be him! A Blackwood! How on earth is this even possible? God, I'm so going to be dead.

When I stepped out of the exam room, Asher was leaning back in one of the waiting chairs, scrolling through his phone like he owned the place. His head lifted when he saw me, his expression unreadable.

“Well?”

I stood frozen for a moment, clutching the folder the nurses had given me, trying to find the words. My lips parted, but nothing came out except the truth I could barely process.

“It’s yours,” I whispered.

He arched a brow, blinking like he wasn't expecting such a response. “What’s mine?”

I swallowed hard, my grip tightening on the folder. “The hospital… after my surgery… they made a mistake. They… used your—” My cheeks burned as I whispered the words, “—s-semen sample.”

For a moment, his face didn’t change. Then, slowly, his mouth stretched into the kind of smile that didn't look kind or cruel either. The kind that said he was already calculating a dozen moves ahead. Hopefully, it wasn't a lawsuit.

He didn't look too happy with this news.

“That's enough nonsense, woman. You're leaving now.”