THE BABY HE'D NEVER CLAIM

CHAPTER ONE Four Years Ago “Take it off.” Ana froze. The words hit her before she’d even stepped fully into the suite. Her hands clutched the collar of her thrifted coat. Behind her, the elevator had already shut. In front of her stood the man she’d agreed to forget. Cassian Thorne. He didn’t turn. Didn’t look. Just stood facing the tall windows, arms loose at his sides, voice calm and absolute. New York blinked at him through the glass, unaware she was standing here like this—nervous, awkward, already regretting everything. “I just got here,” she managed. “You’re late.” “I’m—sorry. The train—” “Doesn’t matter.” He turned. “You’re here now. You know why. Take it off.” Her heart was thudding. She moved slowly, shutting the door, slipping off her old sneakers. Her coat stayed on. The black dress under it clung wrong—it was borrowed, faded, wrinkled. “I’ve never done this before,” she said softly. “I didn’t ask for a résumé.” He wasn’t staring. Just… watching. As if she were a task to complete. “You signed the NDA,” he added. “You agreed to the terms. I assume you need the money.” She nodded. “I do.” “Then finish what you came for.” She didn’t move. Cassian stepped forward, slow and deliberate. His shirt sleeves were rolled, collar undone. Hands in his pockets, tone flat. “You’re free to leave, you know. But if you stay, I expect you to follow through.” Ana swallowed. She wasn’t here for herself. She was here for Matthew. The memory pressed in before she could stop it— --- The hospital smelled like bleach and something worse. Ana had sat across from the doctor, clutching Matthew’s blood work, fingers cold. “If he doesn’t get the surgery,” the doctor had said without looking up, “his organs will begin to shut down. Medication can only hold off the worst of it for so long.” She hadn’t spoken. Just stared. “There’s a specialist out of state,” he said after a pause. “But I won’t lie to you. It’s expensive.” And then, that look. That quiet, pitiful look doctors gave when they already knew you couldn’t pay. It made her stomach twist. --- Ana stepped forward. Cassian didn’t say anything. He waited. She let the coat fall off her shoulders. The dress underneath was short, cheap, and didn’t fit right. She felt more exposed now than if she’d been naked. His voice dropped a little. “Bedroom’s this way.” She followed. The hallway smelled faintly of leather and something crisp—like rain on metal. The room they entered was pristine, grey-toned, hollow. No personal touches. No warmth. “No names. No questions. No attachment,” Cassian said. Ana gave a tiny nod. “And no lies.” She hesitated, then gave another nod. He stared at her for a second longer. “Dress.” Her hands were shaking. She reached down, tugging the hem upward. Cassian didn’t look away. The dress hit the floor. She was left in her underwear—plain and old, the kind you don’t wear to impress anyone. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, stepping forward. “I know.” “But I’m not here to make you feel better, either.” “I’m not asking you to.” His hand brushed her shoulder. It wasn’t tender. It wasn’t cruel either. Just... matter-of-fact. The rest happened without words. No kisses. No warmth. No slow undoing. He moved like this was routine—a business deal he was closing. He undressed her, lowered her, entered her, all without fanfare or hesitation. Ana didn’t cry. She didn’t speak. She stared at the ceiling and waited. When he finished, he rolled away, reached for his shirt. Not a glance back. Ana curled under the sheet, heart pounding like she’d run miles. “You can leave now,” he said, buttoning his cuffs. She sat up. “That’s it?” “The money’s already processing. Check your account on the way out.” He looked at her briefly. “You gave the correct routing, I assume.” She nodded, eyes on the floor. He picked up his watch. “You were clean. They screened you. I don’t expect issues.” “I’m not an issue,” she said too quickly. Cassian’s tone didn’t shift. “Then don’t become one.” Ana looked up at him. “You don’t have to be cruel.” “I’m not. I’m being efficient.” He walked out, leaving her in the cold grey light. Ana dressed without checking the mirror. She shoved her coat on, found her shoes, and left. The suite door clicked shut behind her. No one spoke in the hallway. The elevator was silent. She made it to the street before her phone buzzed. Matthew: Did you get the money? Are you coming home soon? Her hands trembled. Ana: Yes. I’m coming. She looked up. The sky was smudged with fog, the buildings too tall. She didn’t cry until she was home. And three weeks later, when the test turned positive— She didn’t cry at all.