💔 The Diagnosis: The Unbearable Truth

The sky over Los Angeles was a bruised purple, mirroring the atmosphere inside the private conference room at Forrester Creations. The space, normally reserved for high-stakes business deals, felt suffocating.

Will Spencer stood by the window, his back to the room, the skyline blurred by a fog of despair. He was still the handsome, charismatic heir to the Spencer fortune, but tonight, his posture was that of a man under siege.

Luna Nozawa sat on the sleek, leather sofa, her hands resting protectively over her barely visible baby bump. She was radiant, despite the recent trauma of the pregnancy scandal. She had believed the worst of the confusion was behind them, and now, all that mattered was the life growing inside her.

.

.

.

“Will, please,” Luna murmured, her voice laced with concern. “You’ve barely looked at me since you got back from the clinic. You went to get a routine check-up, didn’t you? Is it about the stress? The doctor said everything was fine with me, darling. We can handle whatever Silas and Remy throw at us, as long as we have each other.”

Luna’s certainty, her unwavering faith in them, felt like a physical knife twisting in Will’s gut. He finally turned around, and the look in his eyes was the darkest she had ever seen—it was the look of a condemned man.

“It wasn’t a routine check-up, Luna,” Will said, his voice flat, devoid of its usual Spencer confidence. He walked slowly toward her, holding a plain white envelope as if it weighed a ton of bricks. “I didn’t go for stress. I went for answers.”

Luna frowned, her hand instinctively moving to cover her heart. “Answers? Will, what are you talking about? What answers could you possibly need?”

Will dropped the envelope onto the glass coffee table between them. It landed with a soft, yet deafening, thud. He didn’t sit down. He couldn’t. He stood over her, his shadow enveloping her.

“A few years ago, when I was overseas—before I came back to L.A.—I got sick. Something I never told anyone about. A bad infection. It… it required a surgical procedure. The doctors were upfront about the risk, but I was focused on recovery, on getting back to work. I buried the warning.”

He paused, taking a breath that rattled in his chest. “But when the news broke about your pregnancy, and the dates started getting scrutinized, I started to remember that warning. The possibility. The dark cloud I swore was just paranoia.”

Luna’s eyes widened, a slow horror dawning in their depths. She reached for the envelope, her fingers tracing the sharp corners of the paper. She didn’t dare open it.

“What was the warning, Will?” she whispered, the color draining from her face.

Will swallowed hard, the word catching in his throat, carrying the weight of all their shattered dreams.

“I took the test this morning, Luna. It’s definitive. It’s conclusive. The infection… the procedure… it caused permanent damage. I’ve known for two hours, but I’ve been living with the risk for years.”

He met her gaze, his blue eyes swimming with agonizing despair.

“I am infertile, Luna. I cannot be a father. I cannot father your child.”

💔 The Echo of Despair

The air became instantly fragile. Luna’s face crumpled not with anger, but with overwhelming, physical grief. The paper in the envelope might as well have been the shattering of a priceless vase.

“No,” she choked out, shaking her head in denial. “No, Will, that’s not true. That can’t be true. We… we are having a baby. Our baby. You just need a second opinion. They make mistakes! You know how doctors are!”

She started to cry, silent, desperate tears that stained her cheeks. “This is a mistake! You’ve been so wonderful, Will! You stood by me through all the accusations, all the drama with Remy, all the fear of Silas… You said you were absolutely certain it was yours!”

Will fell to his knees beside the sofa, reaching for her hands. His own tears finally broke, a silent testament to his profound loss.

“I was certain, Luna! I was! That’s the most agonizing part. The doctor told me the chances were low, maybe 1% chance, but I clung to it. I looked at you, I saw your hope, and I chose to believe in the miracle. I chose the 1% over the overwhelming medical facts because I couldn’t bear to lose you, or the future we planned.”

He gently took her hand and placed it over his broken heart. “I wanted this baby more than I have ever wanted anything in my life. I was ready to be a father, Luna. And I kept the secret of my illness, of my incapacity, to protect myself, to protect us, from this precise moment.”

The denial melted away from Luna’s expression, replaced by a terrible clarity. The chaos of the past few weeks—Remy’s accusations, the DNA test rumors, the whispers about Silas Vance—suddenly coalesced around this heartbreaking, unmovable fact.

“The baby… is not yours,” Luna whispered, the reality piercing the last shield of her hope.

She pulled her hands away, not out of malice, but because she needed to feel the baby—the real, undeniable proof of her fertility—separate from his despair.

“Then who, Will?” Luna asked, her voice dangerously quiet. “If not you, then who?”

The question hung between them, a massive, unanswerable silence that pointed to the past drama. Luna looked away, her mind racing back over the tumultuous timeline, the dates, the frantic uncertainty that had defined the beginning of her pregnancy.

“It can’t be Silas,” she murmured, referring to the convicted felon who had been tied to her past. “The timing was impossible. But… there was someone else. Just before you and I… after Will left town that time.”

Will stared at her, the final, dreadful question hanging in the air. “Who, Luna? Who is the father?”

💥 The Ultimate Test

The weight of the new secret—the identity of the real father—was almost too much to bear, piling on top of Will’s tragic infertility.

Luna looked at the man she loved, the man who had offered her acceptance and stability despite the drama, now broken by a truth that transcended the current scandal.

“It doesn’t matter right now, Will,” Luna said, reaching out to cup his cheek, her hand surprisingly firm. Her grief had transformed into a fierce, protective determination—the strength of a mother. “The baby has a father, biologically. But this baby needs a life. This baby needs the man who was willing to stand up for it, regardless of the bloodline.”

Will shook his head, tears carving paths through his handsome face. “I can’t ask that of you, Luna. I can’t ask you to stay with a man who is incomplete. A man who can’t give you children.”

“You are not incomplete, Will Spencer!” Luna cried, her voice cracking. “You are the best man I have ever known! You didn’t run when the world called me a scandal. You fought for me! This infertility… it changes the past, but it doesn’t change what we feel right now.”

She dropped her head, resting her forehead against his. “We need to figure out who the biological father is, yes. We have to. But that man is just DNA. The man who will raise this child, the man who will love this child, is you. This is our test, Will. Will our love survive the ultimate truth, or will we let a medical diagnosis destroy the foundations we built?”

Will closed his eyes, pulling her into a desperate embrace. The envelope lay forgotten on the table, its devastating truth exposed. The stakes had never been higher. The foundations of their love had been shaken, but Luna, facing the ultimate betrayal of biology, was refusing to let go.

The question remained: Who was the real father, and would that person’s arrival finally be the shockwave that separates Luna and Will forever?