The First Sign

Chapter 11: The First Sign

Isla stood on the balcony long after Damien left. The cool night breeze brushed against her skin, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside her. Her mind spun with questions she couldn't answer.

Her father. Victoria. The hidden child.

And then there was Damien—a man who was supposed to be a stranger but was quickly becoming something else. Something dangerous.

She pressed a hand to her stomach, a strange flutter twisting inside her. For days now, she'd felt… off. Tired. Nauseous. But with everything happening around her, she hadn't let herself stop and think.

But now, the possibility felt impossible to ignore.

Could I be pregnant?

The thought made her stomach churn. If it was true, everything would change—again.

And she wasn't sure she could handle one more secret.

The next morning, Isla woke up feeling worse than before. Her head pounded, and a heavy wave of nausea rolled through her as she sat up in bed. She pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to push through the dizziness.

A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

"Come in," she called weakly.

The door opened, and Damien stepped inside. He wore a sharp black suit, his expression as controlled as ever. But when his eyes landed on her pale face, the cool mask cracked—just a little.

"You look sick," he said, his voice softer than usual.

"I'm fine," Isla lied, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. "Just tired."

He didn't buy it. She could tell by the way he crossed the room in three long strides, sitting on the edge of the bed. His sharp eyes studied her closely.

"You're not fine," he said quietly. "What's wrong?"

Isla hesitated. If she told him what she suspected, it would open a door she wasn't sure she could close.

But hiding it wouldn't make it any less real.

"I… I think I might be pregnant," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, Damien didn't move. Didn't speak. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken emotions.

"You think?" His voice was rough, edged with something she couldn't name.

"I'm not sure," she said, her hands twisting in the blanket. "But I've been feeling strange—tired, sick."

His jaw clenched as he stood up, pacing toward the window. She watched the tension coil through his body, making the air in the room feel heavier.

"When will you know for sure?" he asked, his tone cold again.

"I can take a test," Isla said quietly. "I'll know soon."

He turned back to her, his face unreadable. "If you are…" He trailed off, his voice softer when he added, "It changes everything."

Isla's heart pounded painfully in her chest. She didn't know if she was more afraid of being pregnant—or of what it would mean for them.

Later that day, Isla stood in the bathroom, staring at the pregnancy test in her trembling hands. Her heart raced as she forced herself to wait, the seconds crawling by.

When the result appeared, her breath caught.

Positive.

A cold weight settled in her stomach. This wasn't just a suspicion anymore. It was real.

Her legs felt weak as she sank onto the edge of the bathtub. How could this be happening?

And the hardest part? She didn't know if the baby was Damien's… or Julian's.

Tears burned in her eyes, but she blinked them away. Falling apart wouldn't help. She had to face this—even if it terrified her.

By the time Damien returned that evening, Isla had gathered herself together. She found him in his study, leaning over his desk with the intensity he always carried.

"I took the test," she said quietly, stepping inside.

He looked up sharply, his expression unreadable. "And?"

"I'm pregnant," she said, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.

For a long moment, he said nothing. His face gave nothing away, but the tension in his shoulders tightened.

"Is it mine?" His question cut through the air like a blade.

"I don't know," Isla admitted, her throat tightening. "It could be yours… or Julian's."

His face darkened, but when he spoke again, his voice was quiet—too quiet. "And what do you plan to do?"

Isla's heart pounded as she met his gaze. "I'm keeping it."

His expression shifted—something unreadable flickering behind his cold mask. "No matter whose it is?"

"Yes," she said softly.

For the first time, something in his eyes softened. Just for a second. But it was enough to steal her breath away.

"You're not doing this alone," he said finally. "If the baby is mine, I take responsibility. If it isn't… I still won't let anyone hurt you."

The raw promise in his voice made her heart ache. For all his coldness, Damien Calloway was not the kind of man who ran from a fight.

And for reasons she couldn't explain, that made her feel safe—even when nothing else did.

That night, Isla couldn't sleep. Her mind spun with possibilities, fears, and questions she had no answers to.

But the biggest question of all?

What happens now?

The next morning, Isla sat quietly in the living room, her hands resting on her stomach as she tried to process the truth.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," she called, expecting Damien.

But it wasn't him.

It was Julian.

Her heart lurched in her chest as he stepped inside, his face tight with concern.

"I had to see you," he said, closing the door softly behind him. "You haven't answered my calls."

Isla swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay calm. "You shouldn't be here."

"I don't care," Julian said, moving closer. "I know something's wrong. What is it, Isla?"

Tears burned in her eyes, but she blinked them back. "I'm pregnant, Julian."

His face paled. For a moment, he seemed frozen in place. "Is it… mine?"

"I don't know," Isla admitted, her voice shaking.

Julian's hands curled into fists at his sides. "And Damien knows?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Anger flashed in his eyes, but underneath it, she saw pain. "He's never going to let you go now," Julian said bitterly. "Is that what you want?"

"I didn't choose this," Isla said, her voice breaking. "But I have to live with it. And I need to figure things out—without you and Damien tearing each other apart."

For a long moment, Julian just stood there, staring at her. Then he took a step back.

"I'm not walking away," he said quietly. "No matter what happens, I won't let him win."

With that, he turned and left, the door clicking softly behind him.

Isla's heart pounded in her chest as his words echoed through her mind.

Two men. One secret.

And a truth that could destroy everything.