CHAPTER 3: I'M NOT MOVING IN

“I’m not moving in with you and your fiancée,” Chloe snapped with her arms crossed tight over her chest as she stood in the middle of Damian’s penthouse living room. The overnight bag she’d brought sat untouched by the door. “This was supposed to be monitoring, not me playing house with the two of you.”

She had agreed to stay only after another round of tests convinced both her and the doctors that keeping her close during the first critical weeks was the safest option for the twins. It hadn't made walking into Damian King's penthouse any easier.

Damian set his laptop on the marble island and turned to face her fully. The doctor’s latest instructions still burned in his mind, frequent checks, reduced stress, no arguments that could spike her blood pressure. Easier said than done with this woman.

“You’re here for the twins’ sake,” he said evenly. “Vanessa is barely around. She travels most weeks, "The guest suite is yours End of discussion.”

Chloe’s eyes narrowed. She took two steps closer, her sneakers squeaking on the polished floor.

Her reflection flashed in the glass as she move. Years of being judged for her size made it instinctive to look away, but she kept her chin up.

“End of discussion? You love that line. I have a business to run, employees who count on me. I’m not hiding out in your tower like some kept surrogate.”

Before Damian could respond, Chloe’s hand flew to her side. Her face went pale and she grabbed the back of the couch, breath catching sharp. “Shit, something’s wrong.”

He moved without thinking, crossing the room in three strides and gripping her elbow to steady her. His other hand hovered near her shoulder, not quite touching. The unexpected tightness in his own chest annoyed him. She’s carrying my children. That’s all this is. “Sit. Now. I’m calling the doctor.”

“I’m fine,” she muttered, but she let him guide her to the couch. Her fingers stayed pressed against her belly, knuckles white. “It passed. Just a weird twinge. Don’t hover.”

Damian ignored her and pulled out his phone, The on-call obstetrician picked up on the first ring, While he relayed what happened, he watched Chloe’s breathing slowly even out. She leaned back against the cushions, eyes closed, one hand still resting protectively over the bump that had grown noticeably in the last weeks.

The doctor’s voice was calm but firm. “Monitor for another hour. If it happens again, bring her in. No caffeine, no stress.”

Damian ended the call and slid the phone into his pocket. “You heard him. Stress makes it worse, So stop fighting me on every single thing.”

Chloe opened her eyes and glared up at him. “Fighting you is the only way I stay in all this. You act like I’m a problem to manage.”

He sat on the coffee table across from her, elbows on his knees. For once he didn’t have a quick reply. The protectiveness that had surged through him a minute ago still lingered, unfamiliar and irritating. He wasn’t supposed to care this much about her comfort. This was a transaction.

Hours later, well past midnight, Damian came out of his home office for water and stopped short. Warm cookie smell filled the kitchen. Chloe stood at the island in an oversized shirt, mixing something in a bowl with more force than necessary. Flour dusted her forearms.

“You should be resting,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

She didn’t look up. “Couldn’t sleep. Baking helps me think. Want one when they’re done?”

He should have said no and gone back to work. Instead he walked over and pulled out a stool. “What are you making?”

“Chocolate chip with sea salt. My grandma’s recipe.” She scooped dough onto a tray with practiced flicks of the spoon. “Helps when everything feels out of control.”

Damian watched her hands move. Strong, capable hands that built a business from scratch. He thought about his own mother’s perfectly manicured fingers that had never baked anything in her life. “My family didn’t do this. No late-night kitchens. Just cold dinners where everyone reported their accomplishments and waited to be criticized.”

Chloe paused mid-scoop. “Sounds awful.”

“It was efficient.” He shrugged, but his jaw had tightened. “Emotions were weaknesses. My father made sure we learned that early. Vanessa understands that world. She fits.”

Chloe slid the tray into the oven and set the timer. She wiped her hands on a towel, then turned to face him directly. “And I don’t. Got it.”

“That’s not…” His phone rang, cutting him off. Vanessa’s name flashed on the screen.

He answered. “It’s late.”

Vanessa’s voice came through sharp enough for Chloe to hear. “I just saw the updated medical report. More monitoring? Damian, this is getting complicated, I’m at an event in Miami and people keep asking questions. Can’t you handle this without dragging me into every little detail?”

Damian stepped away from the island, lowering his voice. “She had a scare tonight, The twins need this. You suggested the surrogacy, remember?”

“I suggested it when it was simple,” Vanessa shot back. “Not when I’m fielding calls about your plus-size baker playing house in our penthouse. Fix the optics or I will.”

Chloe turned away and started washing the mixing bowl with loud splashes of water.

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” He hung up.

Chloe kept scrubbing. “She’s pissed I’m here.”

“She’ll get over it.”

Time passed in a blur of appointments, arguments, and uneasy truces. Chloe settled into the guest suite. The twins grew. Damian buried himself in work but found himself checking on her more than he planned.

Five months in, the penthouse door slammed open so hard it bounced off the wall.

Vanessa stormed in, designer heels clicking, phone in hand, face flushed with fury. Chloe sat on the couch with her rounded belly clearly visible under a loose sweater, a tablet on her lap.

“I’m done,” Vanessa announced, voice carrying through the entire space. “I met someone richer who doesn’t need a backup plan and a fat surrogate to produce an heir. I’m backing out. No more pretending this was ever my idea.”

Damian stepped out of his office, phone already buzzing with incoming notifications. “Vanessa, what the hell are you…”

“Check the tabloids,” she cut in, tossing her hair. “It’s already leaking., I’m not getting tied down to this mess, You handle your little arrangement. I’m out.”

Chloe’s hands froze on the tablet. Damian stared at Vanessa, the words sinking in as his phone exploded with alerts, scandal breaking, headlines already forming.

Vanessa turned on her heel. “Good luck with your backup family.” The door slammed behind her.