The anchor's voice poured from the tiny screen, calm but cruel, slicing through me with every word.
"In a shocking press conference earlier today, billionaire heir Alexander Stone and finance Victoria Blackwell addressed the rumors of an alleged affair and pregnancy. Stone strongly denied the claims, calling them, quote, a desperate attempt at financial extortion."
The clip rolled, and there he was again ,Alex. My Alex.
Only he wasn't mine anymore. Maybe he never had been.
She's lying. That's what his mouth said. His lips shaped the words with cold certainty.
But his eyes...
God help me, I knew his eyes. I'd traced every line of them that night on the balcony. They hadn't been cold then. They'd been searching, drowning, clinging to me like I was the first breath after years underwater.
And even now, with the cameras flashing, I saw it,the flicker of guilt, the quick dart away from the lens. He couldn't even look straight into the crowd when he called me a liar.
The room spun, and I sat down hard on the edge of my bed.
Zoe wasn't here. She had a late class, thank God. Because if she saw me like this ,shaking, pale, staring at the screen as my whole life went up in flames ,she'd never let me wallow in peace.
The segment ended, replaced by a panel of commentators picking apart every second.
"Notice how he avoided details," one said.
"Classic move," another added. "If she has no proof, this woman is finished. His word against hers? She'll lose."
"woman". He couldn't even say my name. But by tomorrow, everyone on campus would know it anyway.
The gossip blogs had already put my picture beside Alex's. My face caught in blurry elevator camera shots. My hand resting on my stomach in the clinic , My shame was out there for the world to see.
What would my professors think? My scholarship committee? Am in trouble,Would they believe him too? The billionaire with the perfect suit and diamond-ringed fiancée, or the broke scholarship girl who worked nights in a restaurant?
I buried my face in my hands, but the images burned behind my eyelids.
I thought of Mom. Of the small TV in her hospital room, the one she kept on for company when she couldn't sleep through the pain. Was she watching right now? Did she hear her daughter's name thrown around as a liar, a gold digger, a scandal?
What would I say to her when I visited tomorrow? Hi Mom, how are you feeling today? By the way, the father of my baby just told the entire world I don't exist.
And Jake sweet Jake. Fifteen, smart, still holding on to his innocence. How long before kids at school showed him the headlines? Before he had to defend me, defend us, from their jokes and whispers?
I pulled my knees to my chest, curling in on myself, as if I could shrink small enough to vanish.
"I should never have gone," I whispered into the empty room. "I should've stayed home, studied, worked another shift... anything but that night."
One night. One careless choice. One moment I let myself feel, let myself want, let myself be human.
Now it had cost me everything.
And yet... my hand went to my stomach. The faintest swell too small for anyone else to see, but real to me. Beneath my palm, a life beat. Mine and his. A piece of that night that couldn't be erased, no matter what he told the cameras.
Regret cut through me like a knife. Not for the baby ,never for the baby. But for trusting him. For believing the man who once listened to me on the balcony, who looked at me like I was more than a scholarship case, would stand by me now.
The panel kept talking.
"Westfield University is expected to investigate whether Miss Collins broke the student conduct code, considering her scholarship terms..."
My blood ran cold. Of course. They'd use this to strip me of the one thing I'd fought hardest for. Without that scholarship, I couldn't finish my degree. Without a degree, I couldn't support Mom and Jake.
My future was slipping away, all because I'd believed in a stranger on a balcony.
I pressed the power button on the remote, plunging the room into silence. But silence was worse , it left me alone with my thoughts, my shame, my fear.
I pulled open my laptop. Emails flooded in faster than I could delete them. Journalists, tabloids, strangers with opinions. Some called me a liar, some a whore, some offered me money for interviews.
I slammed the laptop shut and pressed my face into the pillow, smothering the scream that burned in my throat.
I couldn't break down. Not now. Not with Mom counting on me. Not with Jake needing me. Not with this tiny heartbeat inside me depending on me to be strong.
But God, it hurt.
For a moment, I let the tears out, endless, shaking my whole body. Sobs that left me gasping like I was drowning. Just like he once said he was. Maybe we were both drowning. Only he'd grabbed the lifeboat of lies and left me to go under.
When the sobs slowed, I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling.
Somewhere deep inside, under the grief, under the humiliation, a spark burned. Small, but there.
I couldn't match the Stones in money or power. But I had something else. The truth.
And the truth would have to be enough.
I wiped my eyes, pulled the blanket around me, and whispered to the life inside me, "I don't know how yet. But I will fight for us. Even if everyone says I'm lying."
Saying it made me steadier, even while my heart broke.
Tomorrow, I'd have to face Mom. Jake. My professors. Maybe even the university board.
Tomorrow, the real fight would start.
But tonight, I lay in the dark, hand resting on my stomach, and made my child a promise.
"They can take my name, my scholarship, my reputation. But they will never take you."
I closed my eyes, feeling the echo of Alex's denial still ringing in my ears.
And for the first time, I wondered if the night on the balcony had been a miracle or a curse.