"Breathe… breathe…"
Something inside Isobel fizzed and churned, like shaken soda threatening to burst from the can.
Then she felt it—his hand, firm and warm on the small of her back. Her heart jolted. Her lashes fluttered shut for a second as she forced herself to stay composed.
She laced her fingers behind her back, resisting the habitual urge to shield her belly—a subconscious defense she'd developed ever since discovering the truth.
"Happy Birthday, Isobel," Alexander's voice rumbled low, playful and rough, slicing through the quiet hum of the evening.
She turned toward him, arching a brow. "What are you plotting, Alex?"
The words were skeptical, but her lips curved in a knowing smile. A teasing challenge.
Alexander's grin widened, his eyes narrowing into a gleam of mischief. Without a word, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her gently into his side as they stood inside the softly lit hangar.
"You'll see," he murmured, his breath brushing her ear.
A shiver ran down her spine.
Isobel's eyes grew wide as the sleek silhouette of a black helicopter loomed before them. Under the cold gleam of the hangar lights, its surface shimmered—sleek, modern, commanding.
"What's this, Alex?" she asked, her voice caught between awe and disbelief.
"A helicopter. For you," he said casually, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "Only the best for my girl."
A sudden rush of emotion surged through her chest, threatening to spill over. Butterflies fluttered violently in her stomach, although now she couldn't tell if it was excitement… or nausea.
"Alex, this is… this is so extravagant," she managed, breathless.
"It's your birthday," he said simply, leading her toward the helicopter. "You deserve it."
"I've never been on one of these before…" Her voice dropped to a nervous whisper, almost childlike.
He laughed, a warm, rich sound, and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Trust me. I'll keep you safe."
She nodded slowly, though the anxiety still prickled beneath her skin.
Something about tonight felt… off.
Or maybe it was just the secret swelling quietly inside her.
But she shook it off, choosing instead to stay present. Alexander had gone to such lengths to make this special—she wouldn't ruin it with her overthinking.
Inside the cockpit, he helped her with her seatbelt, adjusting the strap with gentle precision before settling into the pilot's chair.
When he rolled his sleeves to his elbows, Isobel couldn't help but watch him—his forearms flexing as he moved with ease over the controls. There was something primal in the way he owned the space. Confident. In control. Utterly irresistible.
God, he looked good.
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. She had to physically restrain herself from reaching out and touching him. He was so damn sexy, it wasn't fair.
"Comfortable?" he asked, casting her a quick glance.
"As comfortable as I can be," she replied, gripping the armrest like it was a lifeline.
"Relax," he said with a crooked smile. "You're going to love this."
The rotors spun to life, a deep thrumming filling the air, and slowly, they began to lift.
Isobel let out a soft gasp as the ground slipped away. Below them, the city unfurled like a bed of stars—lights scattered in every direction, glowing in the inky dusk like spilled glitter.
"It's beautiful," she breathed, eyes wide with wonder.
"Not as beautiful as you," Alexander murmured, voice low and thick.
Color rushed to her cheeks, soft and rosy. She turned toward the window, but a smile tugged at her lips, impossible
to hide.
This was it.
The moment.
Her heart pounded.
"Alexander," she said softly, turning to face him. "I have something to tell you."
Alexander's eyes flicked toward her, a flicker of curiosity forming in their depths.
"What is it?" he asked, the corners of his mouth still tugged up in a teasing grin.
Isobel pressed her fingers to her stomach, feeling the rapid hammering of her heart beneath her palm. "It's enormous," she whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.
"Bigger than this view?" he joked, sweeping his hand toward the dazzling skyline.
"Much bigger," she replied with a breathy laugh.
"Then spill the beans," he said lightly, raising a brow.
Her grip tightened on the armrest, her knuckles whitening as her nerves twisted inside her.
"First of all," she began, her voice trembling, "I want to say that I love you, Alex…"
"And I love you to death, Bel," he cut in without missing a beat.
She stilled. Her fingers picked at the edge of her seatbelt. There it was again—to death. Those words always hit differently. Too heavy. Too final.
"What do you mean?" she asked, forcing a smile, trying to mask the unease in her chest.
Alexander turned fully to her, his eyes—a piercing stormy blue—softened as they found hers.
"Nothing," he said, lips quirking into that familiar smirk that always made her knees weak. "You're too easy to tease, Bel."
She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks lifted with a reluctant smile. "Stop it, Alex."
The helicopter dipped gently as it climbed higher, and Isobel instinctively clutched her seatbelt. Flying still made her uneasy, no matter how smooth the ride.
But she didn't want to ruin the moment.
It's your birthday, she reminded herself. He did all this for you.
That was the upside of loving a slightly insane billionaire—he pulled out all the stops. And she did love him, deeply.
The interior was pure luxury—sleek black leather seats, polished chrome finishes, and a silver bucket beside her with a bottle of champagne resting on ice. Every detail glinted with care.
Outside, the city glittered like a sea of stars scattered across black velvet.
"You like it?" Alexander asked, watching her closely.
"It's incredible," she whispered, unable to tear her eyes from the view.
"You deserve the best," he said, reaching across the seat to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
Her heart swelled.
Moments like this made the doubts fade. The insecurities that crept in during lonely nights—Am I enough? Does he really mean it?—they all melted away when he looked at her like this.
Alexander Black, heir to an empire, had chosen her.
And now, she was about to tell him something that would change everything.
"Alex," she began, hesitant but steady.
He turned again, his expression soft but attentive. "What is it?"
She parted her lips—but nothing came out. Her throat tightened. Her hand drifted to the small gift box in her lap, where the ultrasound photo was tucked away.
She exhaled. "I… I just wanted to say thank you. For this. For everything."
Alexander's grin returned, wide and boyish. "I haven't even shown you the best part yet."
Her brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Just wait," he said, that mischievous glint flickering in his eyes.
The helicopter banked slightly, and Isobel gasped as the glowing cityscape gave way to endless, shimmering ocean.
"Are we going over the ocean?" she asked, nerves fluttering with excitement.
"Not just over," Alexander said, leaning in. "You'll see soon enough."
Her pulse raced. This is it, she thought again. Tell him.
"Alex, there's something I need to tell you," she said, her voice firmer this time.
He turned to face her fully now, his playful smirk gone, replaced with something softer. More serious.
"What is it?" he asked.
She opened her mouth—but just then, both of their phones buzzed simultaneously.
Alexander frowned. "Hold on," he said, already pulling his out. "It might be work…"
Isobel hesitated, her hand hovering over her own phone.
Why now? she wondered, a ripple of dread crawling up her spine.
"Stop being paranoid," she told herself. But the unease lingered.
Alexander's expression darkened as he stared at his screen. His jaw tightened, lips pressing into a line.
"What is it?" Isobel asked, her stomach twisting.
He didn't respond. Just stared. Then, with a sharp breath, he swiped at the screen.
Isobel's fingers trembled as she picked up her phone. Her eyes darted to the alert flashing across the top of the
screen.
Breaking News: "Billionaire Heir Caught in Scandalous Rendezvous. Who Is the Mystery Woman?"
Her blood ran cold.
Below the headline was a blurry photo. But there was no mistaking it—Alexander. Sitting at a bar. His arm around a
woman whose face was turned just enough to stay hidden. Her dress was low-cut, and the way she leaned into
him… it said everything.
Isobel's breath hitched, her chest rising in shallow, panicked gasps. "What… what is this?" she whispered, the
screen shaking in her hands.
"It's nothing," Alexander snapped quickly, his voice laced with frustration. "It's a lie."
"But it's you," she choked. "That's you, Alex! You said you were at a business meeting that day!"
"I know how it looks, but you have to believe me. I didn't—"
"Don't lie to me!" she cried, her voice cracking as the tears began to fall. The tiny box with the ultrasound sat
forgotten in her lap.
"How could you do this? On my birthday?"
"I didn't do anything!" he said again, more firmly this time. "This picture… it's fake. Or someone set me up. You know
how the media is, Bel."
She shook her head, her vision blurring with tears. Her chest heaved, torn between heartbreak and disbelief.
"Do I?" she whispered hoarsely. "Because right now… I don't know anything anymore."
He reached for her hand, desperation flashing in his eyes—but she flinched back, her entire body trembling.
"Isobel, please," he said, voice breaking. "I swear to you—this isn't what it looks like."