His First Love Got My Heart - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

I'd been so desperate to surprise him.
That day, Chase had swept me into his arms like I weighed nothing, his smile lighting up the room. Pressing his forehead to mine, he'd whispered with heartbreaking tenderness, ", from now on, your only job is to lean on me and take care of our baby."
His eyes had been so earnest, so full of love—or so I'd believed. Tears blurred my vision as I remembered his proposal just twenty-four hours earlier, the way he'd slid that ring onto my finger like a promise. Now, those memories were poison. All I could see was the cold glint of his scalpel plunging into my chest.
The phantom pain flared again, sharp and unrelenting. My hands shook as I snatched up the pregnancy test, ripping it to pieces. The shreds fluttered to the floor like dead leaves. A murderer didn't deserve to be a father. Chase would never know about this child.
Then the cramp hit—a white-hot knife twisting in my gut. I glanced down and saw the stain, saffron-yellow against my dress. Panic clawed up my throat. I'd pushed myself too hard. My grief had cost me more than I realized. I fumbled for my phone, dialing 911 with trembling fingers. But the second the ambulance arrived, I knew I'd made a mistake.
Because standing in the doorway was Adam Reid—Chase's best friend.
When Chase and I bought our apartment, we'd chosen it for its proximity to his hospital. I'd never considered how that might come back to haunt me.
Adam was impossible to miss, even in a crowd. Towering and immaculate in his white coat, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his sharp features, he looked every inch the untouchable elite.
For a heartbeat, he froze, his gaze locking onto mine. Then, like flipping a switch, his expression iced over. "She's pregnant. Get her to the hospital—now," he snapped at the EMTs.
The ultrasound gel was cold against my skin as Adam moved the wand methodically over my abdomen. His voice was detached, clinical.
"Breathe in."
"Hold it."
"Breathe out."
But his fingertips were warm, brushing my hip just enough to send a shiver down my spine. The air between us crackled with something unspoken, though neither of us acknowledged it.
When he finished, Adam left without a word.
We'd never been close. Chase had always described him as a lone wolf—brilliant, but distant. Our interactions had been limited to polite nods in hallways, his responses curt at best.
When Adam returned, a damp lock of hair clung to his forehead. "The baby's fine," he said, his voice steady. "But you're high-risk. No stress. No overexertion."
I nodded weakly, but as he turned to leave, I grabbed his wrist. "Adam… please. Don't tell Chase."
A flicker of surprise crossed his face before his expression softened—just barely. "Stay overnight for observation. You'll discharge tomorrow." Then he was gone.
The next morning, Adam walked me out. I opened my mouth to thank him—then froze.
There, at the hospital entrance, stood Chase beside a sleek black Mercedes, his hand resting possessively on Grace's lower back. The way they leaned into each other wasn't just friendly—it was intimate. Familiar.
Before I could react, a pair of hands covered my eyes, yanking me back.
"Don't look," Adam murmured, his voice rough.
I stood rigid, listening to Chase's laughter carry across the parking lot. "You'll be back to normal soon, Grace," he said, their voices fading as they walked away.
My phone buzzed. A text from Chase—accompanied by a grinning selfie from his office, like nothing was wrong.
[Make me lunch, sweetheart. I'll be home soon.]
My stomach churned. Grace was nowhere in the photo, but I wasn't stupid.
He'd unblocked himself on my phone. Again.
We'd shared passwords when we started dating—"No secrets," he'd said. Back then, I'd thought it was romantic. Now, it just felt like another leash.