We Both Brought Secret Kids to Our Wedding

Sure, we can get married. But you're raising my kid.

After five years of playing hide-and-seek, my fianc shows up at our wedding.

He pushes forward a little girl who looks exactly like the woman he actually loves. His voice is colder than the champagne.

The room goes dead silent. Everyone is waiting for me to crumble.

Then, the impossible happens.

A tiny boy pops out from behind my massive white dress. He puts his hands on his hips and screams at the man.

"Hey! What about me? Are you gonna treat me like your own flesh and blood too, Stepdad?"

I look at Roman's face. It's warping with shock.

And I know right then.

This wedding? Totally worth it.

Chapter 1

Silence.

Absolute, heavy silence.

Roman looks paralyzed. His mouth is hanging open, mid-sentence, forming a weird O-shaped pout. His eyes are darting back and forth like he's watching a high-speed tennis match.

Me. The kid. Me. The kid.

The guests finally remember how to breathe.

Then the whispers start. A wildfire of gossip.

"When did Roman have a daughter? She's huge!"

"I didn't know Harper was hiding a secret baby."

"That kid looks nothing like Harper. Did Roman have a side piece in Europe?"

"The boy doesn't look like Roman either"

"Are they child actors? Those two hate each other. This has to be a prank."

"They're probably just pranking each other"

They aren't wrong.

Roman and I have been at each other's throats since we were in diapers.

But our grandfathers were war buddies with a bond thicker than blood, so we were doomed to this arranged marriage before we could even walk.

Who would want to marry a guy I can't stand? I want Lysander. The perfect, gentle, golden boy I grew up with.

Roman doesn't want me either. He's been obsessed with Celia his whole life.

He vanished five years ago. Rumor has it he ran off to Europe with her.

I had five years of freedom. Then he comes back and demands we stick to the contract.

But I have a secret weapon. A son.

Roman is too proud to raise another man's kid. I figured dropping this bomb would nuke the wedding instantly.

If Roman backs out, my parents can't cut off my credit cards. It's the perfect plan.

Except he brought a bomb too.

A little girl who is a carbon copy of Celia.

This wasn't part of the plan.

I look down at our parents. The four elders look like they're watching a train wreck.

Then, you can practically hear the gears turning in their heads. They exchange glances. They take deep breaths.

And then, they smile.

It's the fake, polite smile of people trying to save a billion-dollar merger.

"Oh, wow! So Roman has a daughter. She's adorable!"

"Yes! And who knew our Harper had such a spirited son?"

"Well, since they both come with baggage, it cancels out! Right? Very modern."

"Exactly! It's a buy-one-get-one-free deal. Instant family!"

"We aren't old-fashioned. They're young. They can always make their own legitimate heirs later."

"Precisely."

Chapter 2

I knew it.

These four elders are so obsessed with this union theyd probably arrange a ghost marriage if Roman and I dropped dead right now.

To them, two massive scandals dont cancel the wedding. They just cancel each other out.

I watch the crowd nodding along, accepting the "modern family" spin. My vision starts to go dark.

Suddenly, a hand clamps around my wrist.

Im yanked off the stage and dragged into the backstage dressing room. I look up into eyes burning with rage.

"Harper, what the hell is this game?"

Roman is gritting his teeth so hard I can hear them grind.

I instinctively kick backward, aiming for his groin. "I should be asking you that! Why did you bring the kid? You ruined my plan!"

"You brought one too!"

Roman glares past the curtain at Wilder, who is currently batting a balloon around the stage. He pauses, then lets out a cold, sharp laugh. "Impressive, Hick Harper. Five years, and you managed to create a pint-sized clone of Lysander."

"Give it a rest, Rusty Roman. Like you didn't just 3D-print a mini-Celia for yourself."

Whatever. Not the point.

I rub my temples. The headache is throbbing. Outside, our parents are chatting happily, probably planning the nursery.

"You don't want this marriage either, right?"

"Obviously. I can't let Colette be raised by a psychopath stepmother."

Roman rolls his eyes. "I was trying to provoke you. I thought you'd throw a fit and cancel the wedding. That way, my parents couldn't blame me. I didn't think youd be on the exact same wavelength."

I roll my eyes right back at him. "If you hadn't come back, we wouldn't be in this mess. You have the nerve to blame me?"

"You think I wanted to come back?" Romans shoulders slump. The arrogance cracks just a little. He turns away, muttering. "Grandpa caught me. He froze the company. He froze my cards."

He shoots a look at me. "And you? I heard your parents seized a dozen of your commercial properties to force you into the dress."

Oh. That.

I clear my throat. "Looks like were just two broke trust fund babies today."

Its a stalemate.

We cant back out. If we do, we starve.

We have to go through with this charade. Well just have to divorce later.

We walk back out to the altar like soldiers marching to the gallows.

The guests have fully bought the "blended family" narrative. Theyre cheering.

My bridesmaids and his groomsmen are tryingand failingto suppress their laughter. They look like theyre watching a sitcom.

I have a feeling Im going to be the punchline of every joke tonight.

Roman takes my hand to slide the ring on. His grip is firm, cool.

I lean in, keeping my voice low. "Let's skip the reception. We stay home tonight. Figure this mess out."

Roman snaps the ring into place. "Deal."

Chapter 3

Back at Romans estate, we power down our phones. The last thing we need is a notification for every meme being made about us right now.

I barely get my shoes off before four pairs of hands shove us from behind.

"You two worked hard! Go rest!"

"Don't worry about Wilder and Colette. We're on babysitting duty tonight!"

Two baskets overflowing with red envelopes are thrust into our arms.

Bang.

The bedroom door slams. The lock clicks.

Roman and I stare at each other. Then at the bed.

Its covered in red rose petals. It looks like a crime scene in a romance novel.

We sit down, resigned, and start counting the cash.

I look at his stony face. I have to ask. "Shouldn't you call Celia? You know, explain this is fake before she sees the news and spirals?"

Romans hands still. He doesn't look up. "Celia died. Right after she had Colette."

The air leaves the room.

"Oh."

He lifts his gaze. Its dark, unreadable. "What about your Lysander? Why didn't he storm the church? Isn't he supposed to be the hero?"

I drop a stack of bills. My throat tightens. "You were in Europe. You didn't hear."

"Hear what?"

"A fire. Years ago. Lysander his whole family. They didn't make it."

I look at the wall. "Wilder survived because he was at my house for a playdate."

Silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating.

Great.

A widower and a widow. It's a draw again.

Outside, our parents are singing drunken victory songs. Inside, there's only the swish-snap of counting money.

And my stomach growling.

They didn't even leave us dinner.

I spot a cup on the nightstand. Some kind of iced citrus coffee. Resentfully, I grab the straw and take a massive gulp.

Wait.

I look at Roman. Hes drinking one too.

"Why is there room service in here?" I ask.

Roman frowns. He keeps drinking, though. "I don't know. But it tastes vile. Like fermented oranges and moldy espresso beans."

He pauses. "And for an iced drink why is it heating me up?"

We both freeze.

The realization hits us at the exact same second.

We hurl the cups into the trash.

The Tonic.

It's not coffee. It's one of those "traditional herbal remedies" our parents swear by. The kind meant to ensure a honeymoon baby.

Ten seconds later.

Romans neck is flushed a deep, violent crimson. The color bleeds up to his ears.

His eyes, usually sharp and cold, go hazy. The pupils dilate, swallowing the iris. He blinks, trying to focus on me.

"Roman your face. It's red. Did it hit you too?"

His voice is lower. Rougher. Like gravel over velvet.

I touch my cheek. Its scorching.

My skin feels too tight for my body. A heavy, thrumming heat pools in my lower stomach.

I look at him.

And that's when the real problem starts.

Roman's facewhich usually annoys the hell out of mesuddenly looks unignorable.

Devastatingly good.

I watch his throat bob as he swallows. I fixate on the vein pulsing in his neck. His lips look softer.

No.

My brain screams danger, but my body is screaming yes.

I jump up.

I grab him by the earthough my fingers linger on the burning skinand drag him toward the bathroom. "Get in there! Cold water! Don't come out until you're shriveled!"

I shove him in and slam the door. I hear the shower blast on.

Head spinning, vision blurring at the edges, I stumble back to the main door.

I twist the handle.

Locked.

Solid.

Chapter 4

I bolt for the terrace.

Second floor? Please. Ive scaled rock walls twice this height without a rope. The AC unit is basically a staircase.

I slide the glass door open.

Laughter drifts from the balcony next door.

"Mommy?"

Wilder spots me first. He tilts his head. "Mommy, your face is super red. Is the heater broken?"

I glance at the layout. The guest room next door has a bathroom.

Perfect.

I step up onto the railing, judging the distance. "Scoot over, kiddos. Mommy needs to borrow your toilet."

Click.

The bedroom door behind the kids swings open.

"Wilder? Colette? Grandma cut some fruit for you!"

Damn it.

Florence is standing right there. The escape route is torched.

I wobble, trying to pull my leg back over the railing. But I lose my center of gravity.

Before I can slip, a heavy arm clamps around my waist.

Its solid. Unshakable. An iron band anchoring me to the safety of the floor.

Im hauled backward. My back slams against a chest that feels like a wet rock wall.

I look up. Roman is dripping wet. Water runs from his hair down to his jaw. His breathing is ragged, but his grip doesn't loosen for a second.

"Too dangerous," he growls. The vibration rumbles against my spine. "You go shower. I'll go down."

He doesn't wait for an answer.

He releases me and vaults over the railing in one fluid motion.

"Oh my god! Roman!"

His mothers scream pierces the air from the window directly below. "What are you doing?!"

The shriek startles him mid-air.

He misses the footing on the first-floor window ledge.

Gravity takes over.

Crack.

Thirty minutes later.

The living room echoes with Romans roar.

"Are you people insane? Drugging us?"

Hes sprawled on the couch, clutching an ankle that is rapidly swelling to the size of a melon. "Forced love never tastes sweet!"

He winces, his face pale, but he points a shaking finger at his parents. "And aside from the stupidity of it do you know how dangerous those herbs are? What if Harper had an allergic reaction? You could have put her in the hospital!"

The four elders look like scolded children. They don't dare make a sound.

Finally, my dad steps in, chuckling nervously. "Okay, okay, Archibald! We pushed too hard. It creates reverse psychology. We get it."

"Right! We'll just take the kids for a walk. Let Roman cool off."

Zoom.

The four of them grab the kids and vanish out the front door faster than smoke.

I look at Romans ankle. It looks like a glazed ham.

A laugh bubbles up in my throat. I can't stop it.

Roman glares at me. "What is so funny? If I hadn't grabbed you, the one with the pig's hoof would be you!"

"I'm not laughing at you." I wipe a tear from my eye, giving him a thumbs up. "I'm touched. Really. Roman, the Martyr of Love. Jumping off a building just to keep your virtue intact for Celia."

His face flushes. "You were about to jump too!"

I shrug. "Please. With my climbing skills? I would be down the street sipping a latte by now if you hadn't tackled me."

"You!"

Chapter 5

Roman grinds his teeth.

His hand shoots out, grabbing my collar. Its muscle memory from a thousand childhood brawls. He yanks me forward.

Our faces are inches apart.

The air between us suddenly feels too thin. Too hot.

We both freeze. A flush creeps up his neck and mirrors on my cheeks.

I shove him back. "Easy, tiger! I've been chugging water, but I wouldn't bet on my system being clean yet."

I smirk at him, smoothing my shirt. "You wouldn't want to accidentally break your vow of chastity to your dead girlfriend, would you?"

""

Roman looks like he wants to strangle me. Instead, he turns his head away, refusing to engage.

He finishes slathering the ointment on his ankle and tries to stand.

He wobbles.

My phone rings.

It's a voice message from my dad. The tone is frantic.

"Harper! Emergency!"

"Some maniac just tried to snatch Colette! We had the numbers, so he didn't get her, but"

"What?!" Roman hears it. The pain in his leg vanishes under a surge of adrenaline.

He lurches forward, snatching the phone from my hand. "Where are you? Is Colette okay?"

"We're at the community precinct filing a report"

"I'm coming."

Roman turns for the door.

He takes two steps. His ankle buckles.

He slams into the wall to keep from face-planting. His face goes gray with pain.

I sigh.

"Sit down, Roman. You're useless like that. I'll go see what's happening."

I grab my keys.

This estate is supposed to be a fortress. Three layers of security. How did a kidnapper just waltz in?

I pull up to the precinct.

I can hear the crying from the parking lot.

Colette is sobbing, her little shoulders shaking. But Wilder is right there. Hes patting her back, looking serious and capable.

"Don't cry, Colette. The bad man is gone."

"Harper! You're here!" My mom rushes over. "We didn't catch him. Your dad and the in-laws are giving statements inside."

She lowers her voice, looking around nervously. "The guy was dressed in all black. Mask, gloves. But he knew the layout of the park perfectly. He must have been stalking us."

"Thank god for Wilder. That boy has instincts! He threw a handful of sand right in the guy's eyes. That bought us enough time to grab Colette back."

I look at my son.

"Nice work, Wilder." I ruffle his hair. "A hero at five years old. I'm impressed."

"Yep!" Wilder puffs out his chest.

Then, he looks around and tugs on my hand. He pulls me down to his level and whispers loudly in my ear. "Mommy. When I pulled his mask down to throw the sand he looked kinda familiar."

He frowns, puzzled. "And he said something super weird. He yelled at Colette: 'I am your father!'"

Wilder scratches his head. "But isn't Roman her daddy?"

My blood runs cold.

Chapter 6