"You're pregnant." I was halfway through a sip of water when the words hit. I nearly choked, my throat seizing as I forced myself to swallow and maintain a mask of icy composure. The only reason I didn't spit it out was because the doctor sitting across from me, looking clinical and professional in his white coat, was my ex-boyfriend. 1 "Ow, hey. Take it easy." I was lying on an exam bed in the ER, letting a certain someone poke and prod at my abdomen with more clinical detachment than I found strictly necessary. "How long has the pain been localized in the lower right quadrant? From what I can see, it’s not appendicitis." Silas West withdrew his hand—his long, elegant fingers that I once knew so well. He looked at me like I was a stranger off the street. If it weren't for that familiar, infuriatingly arrogant edge in his voice, I wouldn't have believed this was the man I’d shared a bed with for three years. "Since last night," I muttered, turning my face away. It had only been a month since the breakup. Apparently, thirty days was all it took for some people to become completely unfazed. Cold-hearted prick. "Have you been sexually active recently?" "..." He knew damn well we hadn’t been. Suddenly, a nurse burst in with two ultrasound reports. They were clearly mine. Silas took the sheets, and I watched his handsome face go from clinical neutral to a shade of dark, thunderous brooding. "You're pregnant," he repeated, his voice dropping an octave. I nearly died right there on the crinkly exam paper. "Excuse me?" "A ten-week-old fetus," he said, his eyes flashing with something that looked suspiciously like hurt masked by rage. Ten weeks ago, Silas and I were still very much together. But in the three years we’d dated, we had never actually... gone all the way. We’d been "intimate," but there was always a line he didn't cross, a ghost of someone else always lingering in the room. "Riley Miller," he growled, "Did you cheat on me?" As a woman who was, quite frankly, still a member of the V-club, I knew this was a massive clerical error. But seeing him this worked up? It felt too good to pass up. I wanted to burn his composure to the ground. "Well, since you’ve figured it out, I guess there’s no point in lying," I said, my voice dripping with fake nonchalance. I didn't just stop at the verbal jab; I sat up and crossed my legs with an air of sophisticated mystery. "I was actually surprised to see you here, Silas. Did you drive all the way from Seattle to Boise just to attend my wedding? I haven't sent out the invites yet." Honestly, seeing Silas at Boise Memorial was a shock. He was the golden boy of the University of Washington’s surgical department. Why would he sabotage a brilliant career to move to a mid-sized city in Idaho? As for me, I was only here because after our explosive breakup a month ago, I’d packed my life into a U-Haul and fled back to my parents' house. I couldn't stand the sight of the Seattle skyline if he was under it. "Riley!" He stepped closer, his breathing heavy. "I’m right here. No need to yell. I left the house in a rush today, so I don't have the save-the-date on me. I’ll be sure to mail you one, though. For old times' sake." I stood up, ready to make a grand exit. If I stayed another second, I was fairly certain Silas might actually bite me. The look in his eyes was feral. As I tried to brush past him, his foot "accidentally" caught mine. I tripped, and he pivoted instantly, blocking my path. I tumbled straight into his chest. To keep from eating the linoleum floor, my arms instinctively flew up and wrapped around his neck. The scent of his cologne—something crisp, like cedar and rain—hit me like a physical blow. Even through the layers of his shirt and white lab coat, I could feel the radiating heat of his body. "Already a 'married woman,' yet you’re still throwing yourself into my arms?" he whispered, his voice dangerously low. 2 Gaslighting. Incredible. "Don't flatter yourself," I hissed, trying to untangle myself. "My fiancé owns several properties here in Boise. My future mother-in-law adores me. She’s already talking about helping with the baby so I can focus on my career. With a setup like that, I don't need to throw myself at an ex." "Riley, you really are something else." A cold draft hit my back as the door swung open again. It was the same nurse from before, looking frantic. "I am so sorry! The charts got swapped at the desk. Dr. West, this is Ms. Miller’s report." I should have run when I had the chance. The silence in the room was deafening. Silas took the new report, read it, and then a slow, terrifyingly beautiful smirk spread across his face. "Well," he said, handing me the paper. "I can prescribe you some high-grade laxatives." "What?" "You aren't pregnant, Riley. Your 'abdominal pain' is just a severe case of being full of it. Literally. You're constipated." I wanted the earth to swallow me whole. I looked at the nurse, who was doing a heroic, if failing, job of not laughing. "Fix the filing system," Silas said to the nurse, his voice tight with suppressed amusement. "We can't have this happening twice." Just as he was about to tuck the report away, the nurse spoke up again. "This other one—the pregnancy report—it belongs to a Ms. Blake. She’s waiting in the lounge." My heart did a painful somersault. After the breakup, the name "Serena Blake" was a trigger. "Which Ms. Blake?" I asked, my voice suddenly small. "Serena?" The nurse nodded, surprised. I looked at Silas. So, that was it. Why would a top-tier surgeon move to a "flyover" city? Because his "White Moonlight"—the one who got away, the girl he’d never truly moved on from—lived here. He hadn't come for me. He’d come for her. Then the second realization hit me like a freight train. "That’s Serena’s pregnancy report?" The nurse, blissfully unaware of the emotional carnage she was causing, nodded again. "Dr. West has been her primary since she arrived. The girls at the desk were gossiping... they said since Dr. West and Ms. Blake are old friends, maybe the baby is—" "That’s enough," Silas snapped, cutting her off. The nurse scurried out, but the damage was done. Serena Blake was the reason Silas and I were over. She had spent the last six months of our relationship weaving herself back into his life, and now, here she was. Pregnant. 3 Two months ago. That was when she’d flown to Seattle to "reconnect" with him. "Riley, it’s not what it looks like—" Silas started. "We’re over, Silas." "I can explain the timeline—" "I don't care about your timeline. I’m not interested." I turned on my heel and slammed his office door so hard the glass rattled in the frame. He was on my heels instantly. As we reached the hallway, the noise must have drawn attention. Serena emerged from the waiting area, her hand instinctively resting on her stomach. We came face-to-face. I didn't give her the satisfaction of a glance. My only goal was to get out of this hospital and out of this town. I’d only taken a few steps when Serena let out a sharp gasp. She crumpled toward the floor, clutching her belly and whimpering in a way that screamed for attention. Silas, it hurts, her silence screamed. I saw him hesitate. Just for a second. That split-second of indecision was all I needed to know where I stood. He stayed. He went back to her. I walked out of the hospital doors alone, clutching my ultrasound report—the one that said I was just a girl with a stomach ache, not a woman with a future. Who was playing who? When I got home, my parents were staged in the living room like a firing squad. I knew that look. "Mom," I said, closing the door quietly, trying to maintain the peace. Neither of them looked at me. They sat stiff-backed, faces set in grim lines. I decided to just sit down and take whatever lecture was coming. "Don't you dare sit down!" my mother barked. "It's my house too, Mom." "You’re nearly thirty!" she shouted, ignoring me. "I set up three dates for you this week and you blew off every single one! Do you want to kill me? Even the neighbor’s golden retriever has a partner and two litters of puppies by now!" She shoved a stack of glossy papers into my hands. I looked down. In bold, horrific letters, it read: HUSBAND WANTED. My jaw dropped. "Mom, what is this? And why is my photo printed upside down?" It looked less like a dating profile and more like a 'Missing Person' flyer or a funeral notice. "I wanted to see if I could attract a man by making you look like a project," she snapped. "I’ve already coordinated with my friend Mrs. Higgins. You’re going on a blind date with her son tomorrow. If you blow this one off, I’ll have your father post these flyers on every telephone pole from here to downtown. Do you understand?" My mom was a lost cause when she was in a "Matchmaker" frenzy. I turned to my dad, hoping for a shred of fatherly solidarity. "Dad, come on. I’m your little girl. Don't you want me to stay home a few more years? Keep you company?" My dad stood up, took off his favorite cardigan, walked to the window, and threw it outside. "Go find a nice man to take care of you, Riley," he said solemnly. 4 I caved. The thought of my "funeral-notice" dating flyer plastered all over Boise was too much to bear. I followed my mother’s instructions and took an Uber to a high-end French bistro downtown. It was actually quite nice—dim lighting, velvet booths, very romantic. My mom had already scurried off to "meet the guests" at the door. I was sitting at the table, scrolling through my phone, when I saw them. Mrs. Higgins, my mom... and Silas West. The world is a cruel, tiny place. The seating arrangement was a nightmare: Me, my mom, Silas, and his mother. Silas sat directly across from me, looking like the picture of a perfect gentleman. He smiled at my mother, a sweet, charming expression that made my skin crawl. "It’s so good to see you again, Mrs. Miller." "Oh, Silas! Look at you! You’ve grown into such a handsome man," my mom gushed. She was already mentally picking out her dress for the wedding. I stabbed at my salad, glaring at Silas with enough venom to kill a cobra. "I don't know what happened with the last guy she was seeing," my mom sighed, leaning toward Silas’s mom. "Three years down the drain. He must have been a real loser." "Oh?" Silas leaned forward, his interest piqued. "What did she tell you about him?" A cold dread settled in my stomach. When I’d come home crying and angry, I hadn't told my mom the truth about the cheating or Serena. I’d told her something much more... emasculating. Something that wouldn't make her pity me, but would make her glad he was gone. "Well," my mom whispered, not very quietly. "Riley said the poor boy had... performance issues. Medical ones. You know, 'failure to launch.' Extremely premature." The sympathetic look Silas’s mother gave him was legendary. "Oh, bless his heart. It’s good she found out before marriage. That’s a lifetime of frustration." "Exactly," my mom agreed. I watched Silas’s face. His calm, "perfect gentleman" mask was beginning to twitch into something much darker. I buried my face in my wine glass, chugging the Chardonnay. I didn't dare look up. I could feel his gaze burning holes into my forehead. Needing an escape, I mumbled something about the restroom and bolted. I was halfway to the lounge when a hand gripped my wrist and pulled me into the shadows of the hallway near the coat check. "You," I gasped, backing up. Silas didn't say a word. He just kept stepping forward until my back hit the wall. "Premature?" he whispered, loosening his tie with one hand. "Performance issues? You seem to have a lot of opinions on my anatomy, Riley." The scent of cedar and rain enveloped me. He was so close I could feel the heat of his breath against my neck. It sent a traitorous shiver down my spine. "Riley," he murmured, his voice a low vibration. "How can you claim I'm 'inadequate' when you never even let me try?" My heart was hammering against my ribs. He was the one who cheated! Why was I the one feeling guilty? Just then, I heard the clicking of heels. Our mothers were coming toward the restrooms. If they saw us like this, my mother would have the priest on speed dial before dessert. "Let go! They’re coming!" I hissed. I tried to push him away, but he grabbed both my wrists with one hand, pinning them above my head, while his other hand cupped the back of my neck. He didn't hesitate. Silas kissed me—a deep, possessive, "I’m-going-to-prove-you-wrong" kiss that tasted like red wine and years of suppressed longing. He broke into my senses with practiced ease. By the time I could think to pull away, the two "Best Friends" were standing five feet away, clutching their pearls and grinning like they’d won the lottery. Game over. 5 "I’d love to get Riley’s new number," Silas said with a boyish grin. My mother didn't even wait for me to agree; she grabbed my phone, unlocked it, and pulled up my QR code. So much for blocking him. But Silas wasn't done. He was a shark in a tailored suit. "The only problem is," Silas sighed, looking at my mom with puppy-dog eyes, "I’m staying in my mom's guest suite, but it’s actually just a studio. I’ve been sleeping on a loveseat for a week. My back is killing me." His mother nudged him, looking confused, but my mom took the bait hook, line, and sinker. "Well, stay with us! We have plenty of room, and I haven’t seen your mother in ages. You can both move into the guest wing for a few days!" And just like that, the next morning, Silas arrived with three suitcases, looking like he planned to move in permanently. I had never met a more shameless human being. Over brunch, I learned the backstory I’d forgotten. Silas’s mom was a Boise native who had moved to Seattle after a messy divorce when Silas was six. Apparently, our families had been close back then. I’d met him when I was three, but I had zero memory of the scrawny boy who had apparently decided way back then that I was his. While my mom was busy fawning over him, Silas’s phone buzzed on the table. The notification read: Serena. I pretended to be intensely interested in my toast, but I was watching him like a hawk. Thanks for taking care of me. Dinner tonight? the message read. That little snake. Silas was literally in my house, and she was already trying to lure him away. Suddenly, a competitive fire ignited in my chest. I wasn't going to let her win. Not this time. I pulled up a local app and booked tickets for the most intense, multi-hour experience I could find. "I actually booked us something for tomorrow," I said, interrupting their conversation. "An escape room followed by a three-hour movie marathon. Silas, I hope you’re free?" Silas looked surprised, then his lips curled into a smirk. He checked his phone, saw Serena’s message, and typed back a single word: Busy.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "391266", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel