**Chapter 1: The Positive Line**
Emma M stared at the little plastic stick in her hand, the two pink lines glaring back at her like a smug little secret. Pregnant. Her heart thudded in her chest, a mix of disbelief and raw panic. She, Emma, the queen of sneers, the high priestess of judgment, had always rolled her eyes at her friends’ sob stories of accidental pregnancies. ‘How could you be so careless?’ she’d scoffed over brunches, sipping mimosas while they cradled their bumps or wrangled sticky toddlers. And now, here she was, knocked up from a one-night stand with a guy whose last name she didn’t even know. What a bloody idiot she’d been. A broken condom, most likely—she could almost hear the latex snapping in her memory, a cruel little pop of fate.
She leaned against the bathroom sink, her reflection in the mirror looking back with a mix of horror and irony. All those years of laughing at her friends’ missteps—antibiotics messing with birth control, the infamous ‘pull and pray’ disasters, the missed pills due to chaotic schedules—now came crashing down on her like a karmic tsunami. She’d been so high and mighty, and for what? To end up here, with a positive test and no clue how to reach the man who’d left her in this mess.
With a shaky hand, she snapped a photo of the test and, against her better judgment, sent it to her WhatsApp group. The ‘Mom Squad,’ as they called themselves—seven women, all with kids, none of them conceived in the traditional ‘white picket fence’ way. She’d mocked their stories relentlessly over the years, and now she braced herself for the inevitable backlash. The messages started pinging almost instantly.
**Jess:** ‘Well, well, well, look who’s eating humble pie now! Karma’s a bitch, ain’t she, Em?’
**Tina:** ‘Broken condom, huh? Didn’t you once call me reckless for trusting a guy to pull out? How’s that high horse feel now?’
**Rachel:** ‘Oh, darling, welcome to the club! Should we start a betting pool on whether it’s a boy or girl?’
Emma’s cheeks burned as she scrolled through the taunts, each one a sharp jab at her past arrogance. She typed a quick reply, trying to salvage some dignity. ‘Laugh it up, ladies. I’m still hotter than all of you combined, pregnant or not.’
**Jess:** ‘Oh, please, Em. You’re gonna be waddling soon enough. Let’s see how hot you feel then.’
**Tina:** ‘Bet you’re already thinking about that night, huh? Was he at least worth the trouble?’
Emma bit her lip, her mind flashing back to that night. The stranger—tall, dark, with a smirk that could melt steel—had caught her eye across the bar. Their banter had been electric, each quip sharper than the last. ‘You think you can keep up with me?’ she’d teased, leaning in close, her breath hot against his ear. ‘I don’t play nice.’
He’d grinned, his hand brushing her thigh under the table. ‘Good. I like a woman who bites back. Let’s see how long you can keep that sass when I’ve got you pinned.’
The memory sent a shiver down her spine, even now, as she stood in her bathroom, pregnant and pissed off. They’d stumbled into his hotel room, clothes shedding like second skins. Her fingers had dug into his shoulders as he pressed her against the wall, his voice a low growl. ‘You’re trouble, aren’t you?’ he’d said, his lips trailing down her neck. ‘I’m gonna make you beg for it.’
‘Dream on,’ she’d shot back, her nails raking down his back. ‘I don’t beg for anyone.’ But oh, how close she’d come, her body arching into his, desperate and hungry. She could still feel the heat of him, the way he’d made her wet with just a look, her pussy aching for more even as she kept her sharp tongue in play.
Now, standing here with the test in hand, she felt a different kind of heat—embarrassment, yes, but also a lingering spark of that night. She didn’t know his name, didn’t have his number, but damn if she didn’t remember every second of how hard he’d been, how she’d been dripping for him before they even hit the bed. And now, this. A baby. Karma indeed.
She tossed the test onto the counter, her phone still buzzing with her friends’ relentless teasing. Fine. Let them laugh. Emma M didn’t do submissive, pregnant or not. She’d figure this out, track him down if she had to, and make him sweat just as much as she was now. But first, she needed a drink—non-alcoholic, damn it—and a plan. Because if that night was any indication, the explosion of passion between them was far from over. She could almost feel it building again, a storm waiting to break, and when it did, she’d be ready to ride it out, panting, horny, and in control.
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