Pregnant for my ex’s enemy

Aria’s POV

Every betrayal begins long before the truth comes to light. Mine began three years ago, though I didn’t realize it then. If someone had asked me that morning what my future looked like, I would have answered without hesitation.

I was twenty-six, engaged to one of London’s most successful young businessmen, and only hours away from celebrating the beginning of the rest of my life. By midnight, I would lose everything.

The Grand Astoria Hotel had been transformed into a masterpiece of gold and crystal. Chandeliers spilled warm light across polished marble floors, while a string quartet played softly in the background. Waiters moved gracefully through the ballroom with silver trays of champagne, and every corner buzzed with conversations between London’s wealthiest and most influential guests. Tonight wasn’t simply an engagement party—it was a declaration. The Vale family wanted the city to witness Adrian Vale’s next great milestone, and I was expected to smile beautifully beside him while cameras captured the perfect future they had carefully arranged.

“Miss Collins, congratulations.”

I turned toward another smiling guest and thanked him politely. It was the thirty-second congratulations I’d received that evening. I’d counted. Not because I wanted to, but because keeping track gave me something to do while Adrian disappeared from our own engagement party for the third time.

“You look beautiful.”

His familiar voice wrapped around me before his arms did. I smiled as Adrian slipped a hand around my waist.

“So do you,” I teased.

He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t one.”

“It never is with you.”

For a moment, everything felt normal, comfortable, safe—the way it had always felt whenever he looked at me with those calm gray eyes that made promises without saying a word. He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Nervous?”

“A little.”

“Don’t be.” He kissed my forehead gently. “Tonight is ours.”

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. But something had felt different for weeks. Late-night meetings, cancelled dinners, phone calls he always answered outside. When I asked if everything was okay, he smiled, kissed my forehead exactly like this, and told me he was working hard for our future. I never questioned him after that. Love has a dangerous way of making excuses for the people we trust most.

“I need to take one quick call,” Adrian said.

I laughed softly. “Another one?”

“The last one.”

“You said that thirty minutes ago.”

“This time I mean it.” He grinned, kissed my forehead again, and disappeared into the sea of guests before I could complain.

I watched him go, an uncomfortable feeling settling deep inside my chest. Not fear, not jealousy—just unease. The kind that whispers quietly before life changes forever.

“You’re doing it again.”

I turned to find Chloe holding two glasses of champagne.

“Doing what?”

“Thinking too much.” She handed me a glass before studying my face. “You’ve barely smiled all evening.”

“I’ve smiled plenty.”

“The fake smile doesn’t count.”

I rolled my eyes. “When did you become so observant?”

“When my best friend started pretending she was okay.”

I looked away. “I am okay.”

“Liar.” She said it with enough affection to make me laugh despite myself.

“You’ve been worried for weeks.”

I sighed. “Have you ever felt like something was wrong even though you couldn’t explain why?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she followed my gaze across the ballroom.

“What happened this time?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I know.”

Before either of us could say another word, a ripple of excitement spread through the room. People near the entrance began turning their heads. Conversations softened. Even the musicians seemed distracted. A woman had just entered the ballroom. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen—she didn’t need to be. She carried herself with the quiet confidence of someone who had never doubted her place in any room she entered. Her champagne-colored gown flowed elegantly behind her, and the diamond earrings she wore caught the light with every step.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

Chloe’s expression changed almost instantly. “Bianca Royce.”

The name sounded familiar. “The Royce family?”

She nodded. “The very same.”

One of London’s oldest and wealthiest families. Old money, old influence—the kind of power that didn’t need to announce itself. I watched Bianca greet a few guests politely before her attention shifted. Not toward the stage, not toward the cameras—toward someone standing across the ballroom. Curious, I followed her gaze. My heart skipped. She was looking at Adrian. And the moment their eyes met, his smile changed.

Bianca didn’t hesitate. She crossed the ballroom with the effortless grace of someone who belonged wherever she chose to stand. Conversations softened as she passed, smiles greeting her from every direction, yet she acknowledged them with nothing more than a polite nod. Her attention never left Adrian. Neither did his.

I waited for him to step forward with the professional smile he reserved for clients and investors, the one that always looked polished but never personal. Instead, his expression warmed. It wasn’t dramatic—most people wouldn’t have noticed the difference. But I did. After three years of loving him, I knew every version of Adrian’s smile. This wasn’t the one he wore for business. It wasn’t the one he wore for cameras. It was personal. The knot in my stomach tightened.

“Aria?” Chloe’s voice sounded distant, as though she were speaking through water. “You okay?”

“I…” My lips parted, but no words came. “I’m probably overthinking.”

She followed my gaze and frowned. “Maybe.”

Neither of us sounded convinced.

Bianca stopped in front of Adrian. They exchanged a few quiet words I couldn’t hear. He laughed—a genuine laugh. The sound hit me harder than I expected. When was the last time he’d laughed like that with me? Days? Weeks? I couldn’t remember. Without realizing it, I started walking toward them. One step, then another. The chatter around me faded into a blur until all I could hear was the pounding of my own heartbeat.

I was only a few feet away when Bianca reached up. At first, I thought she was brushing something off his jacket. Instead, her fingers adjusted his bow tie with practiced ease. The gesture was so natural, so intimate, that time seemed to hesitate. Adrian didn’t stop her. He simply looked at her with an expression I’d never seen directed at anyone else. A strange chill crept over my skin. There has to be an explanation, I told myself. There has to be.

Then Bianca smiled. She rose onto her toes and kissed him.

The champagne flute slipped from my hand. It shattered against the marble floor, the sharp crack echoing through the ballroom. Music stopped. Conversations died. Every head turned toward us. Bianca stepped back slowly. Adrian looked at me. Shock flashed across his face—not guilt, but shock, as though he hadn’t expected me to witness the moment.

“Aria…” My name sounded unfamiliar coming from him. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. I searched his face, desperate to find confusion, regret, anything that would tell me I’d misunderstood. Instead, I found silence. A terrible, crushing silence.

I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “Tell me I imagined that.”

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. The silence became my answer. A single tear escaped before I could stop it. I laughed softly—a broken sound that didn’t even resemble laughter. “Three years…” The words barely rose above a whisper. “Three years, Adrian.”

He finally took a step toward me. “Please… let me explain.”

I looked at him as though I were seeing him for the first time. “The only explanation I need…” My voice trembled despite my effort to steady it. “…is why you asked me to spend my life with you when your heart clearly belonged somewhere else.”

Adrian rubbed a hand over his face. “It isn’t that simple.”

“No?” I glanced at Bianca, who remained composed despite the dozens of eyes fixed on her. “It looked painfully simple from where I was standing.”

No one spoke. No one dared. Even the photographers had lowered their cameras, uncertain whether they were witnessing an engagement or its funeral. Slowly, I slipped the engagement ring from my finger. The diamond caught the light one last time.

“I loved you,” I said quietly.

“I know.”

“No.” I placed the ring in his palm. “You knew I trusted you.”

His fingers closed instinctively around the ring. For the first time that night, uncertainty crossed his face. But it came too late. I turned away before he could speak again. Behind me, I heard him call my name. Once. Then again. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

The grand ballroom that had seemed so beautiful only minutes earlier now felt suffocating. Every congratulation, every smile, every promise—they had all become part of the same cruel joke. I pushed through the doors into the cold London night, unaware that before sunrise I would meet the man destined to change everything.

The cold night air struck my face the moment I stepped onto the pavement. Only then did I realize I was crying—not the quiet tears I could hide with a smile, but the kind that stole every breath and made my chest ache. I kept walking. I didn’t know where I was going. I only knew I couldn’t stay there another second.

Behind me, the Grand Astoria Hotel still glittered beneath the city lights, as if nothing had happened. Inside, my engagement party continued. Outside, my life had fallen apart. London bustled around me—cars gliding past, couples laughing beneath glowing streetlamps, friends spilling out of restaurants wrapped in carefree conversations. No one noticed the woman whose future had just been shattered.

My heels clicked against the pavement until the sound became unbearable. I slipped them off and carried them in one hand. The cold stone beneath my feet hurt, but I welcomed it. Physical pain was easier to understand than betrayal. How long I walked, I couldn’t tell. Minutes, maybe an hour.

Eventually, music drifted toward me—soft jazz, low laughter, warm light spilling through the windows of an exclusive private lounge tucked away from the busy street. Without thinking, I pushed the door open. The rich scent of polished wood and expensive whiskey filled the room. Unlike the ballroom I’d left behind, no one here seemed interested in pretending. People talked quietly. A pianist played in the corner.

The bartender looked up as I approached. “What can I get you?”

“The strongest thing you have.”

He hesitated only a moment before pouring a glass. I emptied it in one swallow. “Another.” By the third glass, the sharp edges of my heartbreak had begun to blur. Not disappear—just blur. I rested my elbows on the bar and closed my eyes. Maybe tomorrow this would all feel less real. Maybe I’d wake up and discover tonight had been nothing more than a nightmare.

“Is that Damien Blackwell?” The whisper reached me through the haze. Another voice answered immediately. “It has to be. I’ve never seen him here before.”

Curiosity tugged at me despite myself. I glanced toward the entrance. A man had just walked inside. He wasn’t surrounded by security. He wasn’t trying to attract attention. Yet every conversation softened as he passed. He was tall, broad‑shouldered, dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that somehow made everyone else in the room seem underdressed. Confidence surrounded him without arrogance. Power without performance.

The bartender noticed where I was looking. “You know who that is?”

I shook my head.

“Damien Blackwell.”

The name sounded familiar. Before I could place it, two businessmen nearby continued their conversation. “Funny seeing him here.”

“I heard he turned down another partnership with Adrian Vale.”

One of them laughed. “Turned it down? He practically enjoys ruining Vale’s business.”

“They’ve been rivals for years.”

Rivals. Enemy. The words echoed through my tired mind. So this was the man Adrian hated.

As if sensing my thoughts, Damien lifted his gaze. Our eyes met. For a heartbeat, the room disappeared. He wasn’t staring—he was observing. Calmly. Carefully. As though he could see every crack I was trying to hide. I looked away first, embarrassed, humiliated, broken.

Footsteps approached. They stopped beside me. “You’ve had enough.”

His voice was deep and steady. I let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

I looked up at him. His expression remained unreadable, but there was no mockery in his eyes. No pity either. Only quiet certainty.

“You look like someone who’s trying to drown something that refuses to sink.”

The words caught me off guard. “I’m fine.”

“No.” He held my gaze. “You’re pretending to be.”

Something inside me cracked. Not because of what he said, but because he was right. For the first time that night, someone wasn’t offering empty sympathy or convenient excuses. He simply… saw me.

My vision suddenly blurred. The room tilted. I reached for the edge of the bar, but my hand found only air. Everything spun. The last thing I felt was a strong arm catching me before I hit the floor. A calm voice said quietly, “I’ve got you.”

Darkness swallowed everything.