Fake Vows, Real Baby

Chapter 13: The Cold Walls Begin to Crumble

Lexi didn’t sleep much that night.

She lay curled under the sheets, facing the wide expanse of Alexander’s king-sized bed—but not him. He was there beside her, close enough that she could hear his slow, steady breathing. And yet, he felt miles away.

The truth was out.

Now came the consequences.

The next morning, she awoke to the scent of coffee and the soft clinking of porcelain. She walked into the kitchen to find Alexander in his usual suit, pouring her a cup.

He didn’t look at her when he said, “You need to eat. For the baby.”

Lexi stood in the doorway, unsure whether to thank him or cry.

He finally looked up, and their eyes met.

Something had shifted.

He wasn’t cold—not today. But he wasn’t warm either. He was... uncertain. Unsteady. And Alexander Knight didn’t do uncertain.

“I made a prenatal appointment,” he said after a pause. “With one of the best OBs in the city. You’re going.”

Lexi folded her arms. “You can’t control this like a business deal.”

“I’m not trying to control it,” he said, voice clipped. “I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“For the baby?”

His jaw flexed. “Yes.”

Lexi nodded slowly. “Then what about me?”

The doctor’s office was bright and sterile. Lexi sat on the exam table, fingers clenched tightly around the hem of her dress. Alexander sat beside her, unnervingly still.

When the monitor lit up and the faint, fast sound of the baby’s heartbeat filled the room, Lexi’s breath caught in her throat.

She glanced at Alexander.

He wasn’t breathing at all.

His eyes were fixed on the screen—wide, disbelieving, almost... vulnerable.

The doctor smiled and asked if they wanted to know the due date. Lexi nodded. Alexander didn’t speak.

Afterward, in the car, silence stretched between them. But it wasn’t sharp. It was... thick. With emotion. With possibility.

“You heard it,” Lexi whispered. “That was our baby.”

Alexander was staring out the window, his profile sharp and unreadable. “I’ve never heard anything like it.”

Then softer: “It sounded alive.”

That evening, Lexi found a small envelope slipped under her bedroom door.

Inside was a sonogram photo—and a note in Alexander’s handwriting:

I don’t know how to be a father. I don’t even know how to be myself around you. But I want to try.

—A

Lexi pressed the photo to her chest, heart thudding.

Maybe—just maybe—the cold-hearted billionaire had a heart after all.