My Secret Baby Was Just Pasta
Language: en
My boyfriend just spent three months backpacking across Europe with the woman of his dreams—the one who got away. Now, he’s back, staring at my slightly rounded stomach with a look of pure, unadulterated rage. "Who the hell did you sleep with, Piper?" Harrison barked, his voice echoing through the penthouse. I didn’t answer. Instead, I let my gaze flicker toward his best friend, Hudson Wilde, who was standing by the bar, nursing a drink and watching the drama unfold. Harrison froze. Then, without a word, he swung. His fist connected with Hudson’s jaw, the sound sickeningly wet. Hudson, who…