Ian's penthouse,lateevening.
Vivian stood in the living room like a tempest in heels—her crimson lipstick smudged from biting her lips in fury, her hands clenched at her sides.
"You stood there. On live television. And told the world you cheated on me." Her voice was shaking—not from sadness, but from rage. "You ruined our name. My name. For what? A fling with your assistant?"
Ian didn't flinch. "I told the truth. And she's not just my assistant."
Vivian's laugh was sharp, cold. "Of course. She's special, right? They always are. The ones you break everything for."
Ian met her gaze, calm despite the storm. "I'm in love with her."
Vivian stared at him like he'd slapped her. "Excuse me?"
"I want a divorce, Vivian," he said, voice firm.
"No." She shook her head with venom. "Over my dead body will you embarrass me again. You think I'll let you run into the arms of some... slutty little nobody and live happily ever after?"
Ian's jaw tensed. "Don't you dare talk about her like that. Bianca had no idea I was married, and you know it. You never wanted a child, Vivian. You didn't want me—you wanted the image."
"I am the image, Ian!" she snapped. "And I won't let some intern steal it from me."
She stormed out, slamming the door so hard the windows rattled.
Next morning – Bianca's apartment.
Bianca was curled up on the couch, her hand resting over her stomach. Becky bustled around the kitchen, pretending to be unbothered.
"So, Darren texted. Again," Becky said, handing her tea. "Says he wants to take you to that jazz bar again."
"I'm not in the mood for dating," Bianca murmured.
Becky plopped down beside her. "You were until the scandal exploded. You still like Ian."
Bianca said nothing. The silence stretched.
Then—BANG BANG BANG—the front door shook under someone's fist.
Becky rose cautiously. "Who the hell—?"
Vivian barged in the moment the door opened.
"You!" she hissed.
Bianca stood, stunned. "Vivian—what are you—?"
"You ruined my marriage. You homewrecking whore!"
"Vivian, calm down—!" Becky stepped between them. Pushing Becky aside, she lunged at Bianca and gave her a tight slap across the face.
She grabbed Bianca's hair and was pulling at it. Becky got up and stepped between them again, this time pushing Vivian away.
But Bianca was already gasping. Her knees buckled, her vision tunneled. Panic clutched her chest like a vice.
"Bianca?" Becky cried out.
Bianca clutched her stomach, crying out in pain. "Becky—I can't—breathe—"
Vivian stepped back, eyes wide.
"Oh my God," Becky whispered. "Bianca!"
Hospital – Two hours later
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Bianca lay still in her hospital bed, pale and unconscious, an IV dripping steadily beside her. Machines beeped in soft rhythm.
Ian burst into the room, disheveled and breathless.
"Where is she?" he demanded.
Becky stood, eyes red. "She collapsed after Vivian showed up screaming and hitting her. The stress was too much. The doctor said... the baby's okay—for now. But she's in a medically induced coma. They're giving her a few days."
Ian sat beside the bed and took Bianca's hand gently.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should've protected you. I should've told you the truth from the start."
Becky's eyes narrowed. "If you really care about her, Ian... then make sure she has peace. That's all she wants."
He nodded. "I will."
She left them alone.
Ian leaned in, pressing his forehead to Bianca's hand. "I love you, Bianca. I didn't know what it was at first—lust, maybe. But now? I'd burn my whole world down to keep you safe. Please come back to me."
The hospital room was quiet again. Too quiet.
After the fireworks—after my mother's hand collided with Ian's face, after Leni's dramatic gasp, and Linda threatening to call the press herself if Vivian ever showed her surgically enhanced face again—it all just... fell still.
Ian had left. My mother had sat with me in silence, brushing her fingers through my hair like I was five again, not twenty-one and recovering from a scandal that had the media practically camping outside.
She said she wasn't going back to London anytime soon. She wanted to stay until I was strong enough to stand on my own again.
But I already had been. That's what hurt most.
Becky came in an hour later, kicking off her heels and dramatically collapsing on the chair beside me. "I just saw Ian outside."
I didn't look up from the ceiling. "Good for him."
"He looked like hell," she said, peeking at me. "You sure you don't want to talk to him?"
"Positive," I said. "I meant what I said. I don't want him in my life."
"Well," Becky said with a smirk, "you better tell that to the baby who's doing backflips in your belly."
I rolled my eyes, but a ghost of a smile touched my lips. "I can't believe I'm having a baby."
"Your baby's going to be gorgeous," Becky said. "Rich. Powerful. Smart. Basically, you with more sleep."
I chuckled lightly. It felt good to laugh again. Even if just for a moment.
A soft knock on the door interrupted our brief bubble.
Leni popped her head in. "Hey, Bianca? Um... Dad's here."
Becky's expression instantly froze. Mine went numb.
"Now?" I asked.
"Now," Leni confirmed.
Hospital Waiting Area
My father stood like a marble statue in a sea of movement. He still wore his signature navy suit and silver cufflinks, a walking billboard for Rosewood Inc. pride. His face was unreadable—but his eyes, sharp and cold, betrayed a storm.
"Bianca," he said, and even that one word was enough to draw attention.
"I see you flew in on damage control duty," I said coolly, standing with my chin high despite the hospital gown and swollen feet.
"You've embarrassed this family," he snapped. "You've made us a global headline. Rosewood Heiress Knocked Up by Billionaire Boss."
I didn't flinch.
"You should've married James Whitmore like we planned. That marriage would've solidified our empire."
"That merger would've destroyed me," I hissed. "You think I'd spend my life in a prison of champagne and fake smiles just so two companies could share a bigger yacht?"
He stepped forward. "Do you have any idea the damage you've done?"
"I don't care."
That stung him. Good.
"I'm keeping this baby," I said firmly. "And I don't regret anything—except trusting you to care about me more than your damn image."
He stared, nostrils flaring. "You're being selfish."
"No. I'm finally being selfish. I'm choosing me. And I'm choosing this child. Even if I have to raise them alone."
The door behind me opened softly, and I saw my mother standing just behind it, quietly watching. She nodded once, approval in her eyes.
My father turned away without another word. Just like he had when I was thirteen.
Only this time, I didn't cry.
Later That Evening
The hospital window was open slightly, letting in the breeze. Becky was passed out on the couch. Leni and Linda had gone to get snacks.
I sat up slowly, cradling my stomach with one hand and sipping water with the other.
There was a bouquet of blue orchids on my table now. No name. Just a card:
I meant everything I said. I'll wait. — Ian
I didn't tear it up. I didn't throw it away.
But I also didn't smile.
Stone Residence
Ian sat at his piano, fingers hovering above the keys.
He hadn't played in years.
But tonight, the silence was unbearable.
Vivian hadn't come home. Or maybe she had, but the energy in the house was so cold it didn't matter. They were ghosts now. Sharing walls but not a life.
His phone buzzed. A message from Steve.
Heard about the press conference. Damn, bro. You really did it.
You sure she's worth it?
Ian stared at the screen.
Then typed.
She's everything.
And for once, he didn't regret saying it.