SPECIE OF LOVE

*UNFORTUNATELY JUNIOR ISN'T YOURS*

*CHAPTER 19: UNFORTUNATELY JUNIOR ISN'T YOURS🔥

*AVA'S POV*

My heart is a war drum in my chest. Pounding. Pounding. Pounding.

And he doesn’t shift his gaze. Not once.

Damien Cole is staring straight into my soul like he owns the deed to it. Like he can read every secret I buried under my tongue. His eyes are dark, unblinking, patient. Dangerous.

_Hm. Hm. Hm._

I clear my throat. The sound is too loud in the sterile hospital room. Too fake.

“Yes, I’m pregnant.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. I tilt my chin, pretending to be nonchalant. Pretending my ribs aren’t caging a hurricane. “And unfortunately… not yours.”

For a second, silence.

Then he laughs.

It’s not a warm laugh. It’s mocking. Sharp. The kind that slices through dignity and leaves you bleeding on the floor.

“Ava, is Junior making you behave like a child now?” He leans back, one brow arched, mouth curved in that cruel, beautiful smirk. “So you think you can just cook up a lie and I’ll believe it, right?”

I flinch. I hate that I flinch.

“But no worries.” He shrugs, casual as if we’re discussing the weather. “A DNA test will be carried out after the child is born.”

He says it. Just like that. Clinical. Cold. Final. Then he sits near Marie, laughs again like this is some private joke, and dials a number on his phone.

Marie and I just watch him. Watch him display his intelligence like it’s a weapon. Like we’re an audience to his one-man show.

“Yes,” he says into the phone. His voice drops into that CEO command everyone obeys. “Tell Mrs. Bruno to prepare the room. And prepare dinner.”

He ends the call. Slides the phone into his pocket. Then his eyes find mine again.

“Ava, I’m taking you home as soon as you’re discharged.” He’s still smiling. That infuriating, confident smile.

I’m boiling. This man must be out of his senses.

“We would order a cab, right?” I say, directing my question to Marie. My voice is ice.

“I mean _my_ house,” he says plainly. No room for argument.

I’m sorry. Come again?

“What did you say?” I ask, anger bubbling up my throat, hot and bitter.

He notices. His countenance shifts. The smirk dies.

“I mean m…m…y…y… h..ou…s..e.” He stammers. Damien Cole. Stammers.

“You’re a joker,” I spit, almost throwing myself off the bed out of pure frustration.

Then Doctor Josh comes in.

“Hey, hey, Ava,” he says, hurrying over, hands gentle as he eases me back against the pillow. “You need special care. You need attention. Someone that would care for you.”

His concern is warm. Real.

“And MARIE?” I snap, my eyes narrowing like I could pop his eyeballs straight out of his glasses.

“It’s obvious Marie is still trying to heal,” he says convincingly, nodding to Marie as if she’d cast a spell on me or something.

Marie stands up. She comes to sit on the bed with me, her body fragile, her smile bigger than her pale face.

“Mama,” she says, her voice trembling. “Mama, you need care. And I obviously also need care. Please follow Damien. Don’t worry, I’ll call every time. And besides, I’ll also get admitted here.”

The word slams into me.

“Admitted? Why? When? How? What happened? Are you okay?” The questions tumble out, panic clawing at my throat.

“I’m fine, Mama.” She pats my hand, her fingers cold. “I just need to also be under surveillance.” She laughs, but it’s weak. “I’m still weak, Ava.”

And I immediately hug her. I breathe her in. She smells like hospital soap and courage.

Then I remember Mrs. Cole’s warning. It echoes in my head, venomous and clear: _STAY AWAY FROM DAMIEN._

I disengage from the hug like I’ve been burned.

“What about Mrs. Cole?” I ask, looking at the three of them. My eyes demand answers. Demand safety.

“Mrs. Cole never comes to my place. You’re safe.” Damien’s voice is steel now. “And if she ever beats our imagination… she won’t find you. And I promise, for the next nine months, I’ll do all in my power to protect you and see that you’re fine.”

There’s so much assurance in his face. So much joy. It terrifies me.

---

I check the ward wall clock. 5 PM.

“Hey, Marie, call me if he doesn’t treat you right,” I say, pointing towards Doctor Josh. My finger is a warning.

“Yes, ma,” she says and stretches her hands forward for a hug.

Damien carries my bag. He shakes hands and bids Doctor Josh goodbye. Professional. Civil. Fake.

“I’ll be waiting outside, Ava,” he says, and looks at me.

I only nod.

I look at Doctor Josh as if to remind him of something. Of _everything_.

He smiles and quickly lays Marie to sleep, tucking her in like she’s glass.

I hug him. Hard. My mouth goes to his ear.

“This is far from advice and close to threat. If anything happens to my momma… count yourself a walking dead.” My whisper is venom. “I repeat. A walking dead.”

I walk out, throwing kisses at Marie.

“DR JOSH REPORTING FOR DUTY!” I hear him shout at the top of his voice behind me.

---

In Damien’s car, I don’t say a word.

He keeps staring. His eyes flick to me at every red light. Every turn. Every breath.

I keep mute till we reach his house and I come down from the car.

“Welcome home, ma.” The staffs greet me with a bow. Synchronized. Practiced.

Their bodies have gotten used to this bow just as I got used to making coffee and rehearsing how to say _Good morning, Mr. Damien_ properly.

I sigh. I wave my hands at them and go in. He smiles and follows suit, without even knowing what I’m thinking.

We get to the living room and I just stand. Frozen.

He ushers me to the couch but I don’t move a bit.

He gestures for the staff to leave. Including the house manager. In seconds, it’s just us. Him. Me. And the ghosts of this house.

“You know, staying in this house just reminds me of how dumb and stupid I was when I came here that day for you to redo your wrongs,” I say, gesticulating with my hands. My anger needs motion. “And look at where that has gotten us. Hide and seek. I now have to hide my baby from his own grandmother just because she detests me.”

My voice cracks on the last word. I hate it.

He kneels down.

Damien Cole. On his knees.

“Ava, I’m sorry.” His voice is raw. Stripped of CEO. Stripped of pride. “I know no matter how much I say it, it can’t undo my stupid mistake. I’m sorry.”

He’s pleading. With his eyes. With his hands. With the broken boy hiding behind the billionaire.

I look at him and my heart betrays me for one second. Then I remember.

“Tell them to prepare the guest room. I can’t stay in the same room as you,” I say, my tone dripping with annoyance.

“No. I will sleep in the guest room,” he says, trying to be modest. Trying to be good.

But I take it the wrong way. Because pain translates everything into war.

“Oh, yah, Ava is dumb. She is stupid. You want me to go back to the room you used as a tool to destabilize my whole life? Huh, Damien? Answer me!” My voice rises. “God knows if there is no CCTV here too, playing me live to a stranger!”

“Where is the housekeeper? Let her come show me to the guest room this minute!” I thunder.

She rushes in alongside some maids. They collect my bag from the driver. They keep staring at me. Wide eyes. Pity. Curiosity.

I become so angry.

Damien notices it and hurriedly shouts, “The guest room upstairs. Take her there quickly!”

They immediately usher me upstairs. Away from him. Away from the memories.

---

I wake up the next morning feeling… great.

No alarms. No worries about the video. No work to rush to. Just new me. New day. At least for the next nine months.

I check the time. 8:30. I jump up.

And go to the kitchen. The chefs are already there, steel and steam and early morning efficiency.

“Ma’am, good morning. How can we be of help to you?” The head of the kitchen says, smiling.

“Good morning, Mrs. Tea.” I check her tag. That’s the name on it. I laugh out loud before I can stop myself. “Tea? Who names their child Tea? Is your husband named Tea?”

They all start laughing. The kitchen fills with sound. With normal.

Then Damien comes in.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, and gives them a look. One look.

They all run out. Silence returns.

“Why did you do that? I was enjoying their company,” I say without looking at his face. I just go to the mug to pour coffee for him and myself. Petty. Domestic. Dangerous.

“Well, good morning to you too,” he says.

I look up.

And I scream.

“Haaa!!! Why are you shirtless?” The words leave my mouth before my brain catches them. I’m filled with lust so sudden it dizzies me.

Because Damien Cole shirtless at 8:30 AM should be illegal.

His chest is a sculpture. Broad, defined, every muscle carved from discipline and sin. His pecs flex slightly as he breathes. A light dusting of hair trails down from his navel, disappearing into the low band of his grey sweatpants. His abs are ridges, shadows and power, the V of his Adonis belt cutting deep, pointing to places my eyes shouldn’t go but do anyway. His shoulders are wide, strong enough to carry the world, or me. A thin scar sits near his collarbone. Old. I want to trace it with my tongue. His skin is warm, golden, glowing under the kitchen lights. He smells like soap and sleep and man.

“Well, I just came down to drink coffee,” he says, and collects the coffee from me. His fingers brush mine. Electric.

He moves closer. My breathing stops. My heart stops. Everything stops.

I think he wants to kiss me. Stupid boy.

Instead, he goes straight to my ear. His breath is hot. His voice is a low, wicked drawl.

“You’re pregnant. You don’t get to enjoy the view.”

He says it. Then he flexes his muscles. Deliberate. Cruel. Beautiful. And majestically walks out with his hands in his pocket like he didn’t just ruin me.

“But why did you bring the view to me?” I say, and it sounds like a whisper because the view was too good to be true and too beautiful to even allow a word to come out.

I sigh and drink my coffee peacefully.

Peacefully. Right.

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*AUTHOR'S NOTE*

I love you 😘 TEAM DAMAVA and TEAM MARIEJ, I love you too ❤️ And as always, loviesss 😘 RIDE DINE AND READ ❤️

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