Chapter 6 - Fault Lines

Ian's POV

The moment we stepped into the penthouse, Vivian was a hurricane in heels.

"How long?" she shrieked, tossing her purse onto the floor. "How long have you been screwing her?!"

I didn't answer. I was too tired. Too empty.

"Ian Stone, I swear—if you don't open your goddamn mouth—"

"We slept together once."

Vivian froze. Her face twisted with disgust. "Once? Once? You think that makes it better?"

"She was drugged," I said. "So was I. It wasn't planned."

"And the baby? Was that part of your little unplanned fairytale too?"

I didn't flinch. "She's pregnant."

Vivian's hand curled into a fist. For a moment, I thought she might slap me.

Instead, she laughed. It was sharp. Cold. The kind of laugh that belongs in a padded room.

"And here I was, worried about stretch marks. But no. You went and knocked up the intern."

"She's my PA," I muttered, correcting her. Like that made anything better.

"I want her fired."

I looked her dead in the eye. "No."

Her mouth dropped open.

"I said no, Vivian. And if you try to go near her again, I'll drag your modeling contract through every legal loop until your pretty face is only seen in mugshots."

"You bastard."

"Maybe," I said, voice low. "But at least I didn't throw a tantrum in a hospital room in front of a pregnant woman."

She stormed upstairs. I stayed downstairs. Alone with my guilt. And the image of Bianca—eyes wet, lips trembling, begging me to leave.

Bianca's POV

Four weeks. Twenty-eight days of silence and tension so thick you could cut it with a paperclip.

I showed up to work every morning looking immaculate, head held high. Stone Enterprises hadn't seen this kind of grace under fire since… well, probably ever.

Ian stayed professional. He didn't push. Didn't corner me. He let the air between us freeze over—and somehow, that made it worse.

And Naomi? Fired. Not just from Stone Enterprises—he blacklisted her so hard she'd be lucky to find work as a barista in Queens.

Becky called it a power move.

I called it guilt in a suit.

But today... I'd had enough.

I walked into Ian's office unannounced. His eyes lifted from his laptop, and for a moment, the mask slipped—just long enough for me to see the man underneath. Tired. Hopeful. Desperate.

"I'm terminating the pregnancy," I said, flatly.

Silence.

His jaw clenched. "You… what?"

"I thought you should know. It's my body. My life. And I'm not bringing a baby into this mess."

He stood. Slowly. As if moving too fast might shatter the moment.

"Bianca, don't."

"Why not?" I snapped. "So you can play daddy when it's convenient? Between meetings and fights with your runway wife?"

He looked like I'd slapped him. Good.

"I won't force you," he said after a pause. "But I need you to know something."

"What?"

"I want this baby. I want you. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. About Vivian. About everything. But I'm here. Now. And if you walk into that clinic, it's not just a choice—it's a goodbye."

I stared at him.

Then turned and walked out.

Tears stung my eyes—but I didn't let them fall.

Not yet.

A Few Days Later

It had been a surprisingly sweet evening.

Darren took me to a rooftop bar in Williamsburg, string lights twinkling above us, Manhattan's skyline humming like a promise. He didn't push, didn't pry. Just… made me laugh. Something I hadn't done in what felt like weeks.

And God, it felt good to be seen as a woman—not as a scandal, not as a mistake. Just a woman. Sitting across from a man who wanted her there.

"I'm really glad you said yes," Darren said, his smile a little shy. "Honestly, I thought you were going to turn me down."

I smirked, sipping my drink. "You mean because I'm your boss's PA, or because my name's been dragged through every whisper and rumor in this office?"

He chuckled. "Both."

We clinked glasses.

And for a moment—just a moment—I let myself forget about Ian Stone and his complicated world.

But peace doesn't last long in mine.

Not when your life is trending.

The Next Morning

I woke up to Becky banging on my bedroom door like we were under siege.

"B, get up. Now."

"What?" I groaned.

"Vivian gave a press conference."

That snapped me upright.

I scrambled out of bed and rushed to the living room where Becky had it already playing on the TV.

Vivian, in full glam mode, face perfected by makeup and media training, was sitting before a sea of flashing cameras.

"My husband, Ian Stone, was drugged and taken advantage of by a woman in his company. This has been a painful time for our family, and we're choosing to heal privately. But I must speak out—for the women who've been betrayed, and the men who've been victimized."

My stomach dropped.

She was talking about me. And twisting everything.

"Jesus Christ," I whispered.

"She made you sound like a damn predator," Becky snapped. "This is slander."

It didn't matter.

Because ten minutes later, I opened my phone—and the internet had already chosen a side.

And it wasn't mine.

#Homewrecker #GoldDigger #DruggedTheBoss #StoneAffair

DMs full of hate. Tweets going viral. Reddit threads dissecting my life like a crime scene.

And work? No better.

People stopped whispering when I walked by. Some didn't even pretend. Naomi's old clique laughed openly. I heard someone call me a "professional mistress" in the elevator.

I was cracking.

But I still showed up.

Still typed the damn reports. Still brewed Ian's coffee like nothing had happened.

Until he stormed into my cubicle, nostrils flaring.

"We need to talk."

I stood, arms crossed. "About what? Your wife making me Public Enemy No. 1? Or your complete radio silence after it?"

He didn't blink. "About Darren."

"What?"

"You're dating him."

I gave a sarcastic laugh. "You're really gonna pretend that's what matters right now?"

"It's against company policy."

"You mean your policy? The one that didn't stop you from sleeping with me?"

His eyes darkened. "Don't test me, Bianca."

I stepped closer, close enough for him to smell the floral perfume I knew drove him insane. "Or what? You'll fire Darren?"

"Yes."

He wasn't bluffing.

I hated the way my heart skipped at that. Not because of power—but because he cared. Because it was killing him to see me with someone else.

But I wouldn't let him win this round.

"I'm not your property, Ian. You lost the right to care when you lied."

I brushed past him.

Let him simmer.

Let the gossip swirl.

Let the world burn.

Because I wasn't the scared, silent girl anymore.

I was Bianca fucking Rosewood.