Accidentally Pregnant With The Billionaire Heir

The man I planned to spend my life with is currently stroking my sister's hair like she's the one who's been sleeping in a hospital chair for a month.

I stand in the shadows of the hospital door, my fingers curled in a fist. Julian looks different propped up against those white pillows. The rugged, athletic fiancé I knew has been replaced by a man who looks brittle. But his eyes are wide and focused on Chloe. She's leaning in so close that their foreheads touch.

"I was coming to see you that night," Julian whispers. "I was in the car because I couldn't wait another day to tell Emily that the wedding was a mistake. I was rushing to her to call it off, Chloe. The rain...I just didn't see the truck coming."

Chloe lets out a strangled sob, burying her face in the side of his mattress. "You almost died for us," she wails. "I've been so scared, Julian. Having to watch her play the grieving girlfriend when I'm the one who actually loves you."

The air in the hallway turns to ice. Every sacrifice I've made over the last four weeks comes to my mind. I think of the needles I stuck into my thighs for the IVF. I think of the crushing guilt I felt, believing he'd crashed that car because he was rushing home to me. I think of the child growing inside me, the child that belongs to a cold-eyed stranger named Alistair Wolfe, all because I wanted to give Julian's parents a piece of their son before he slipped away.

I push the door open and step into the room. The moment the light hits them, Chloe jerks away. Julian looks toward me, his eyes wide and glassy. He doesn't hold my gaze for a second before his cheeks flush pink and he looks away at the ceiling.

Before I can find my voice, a sound comes from behind me. I turn to see Julian's mother standing there with a cardboard tray of coffees. Her eyes are rimmed with red and she looks like she hasn't slept in a week.

"Emily, dear, you're white as a sheet," she says. She looks at my stomach with a hopeful, watery smile. "How did the appointment go? Is our little miracle holding on?"

I look at her, the woman who has treated me like a daughter for three years, then at Julian. The coward is still staring at the ceiling. The truth about Alistair Wolfe's baby sits like a mouthful of ash in my throat.

"It didn't work," I say. My voice is steady, devoid of grief in a way that surprises me. "The IVF failed. There is no baby."

The older woman's face seems to collapse. She reaches for the back of a plastic chair to steady herself. "Oh, Emily. No. Not after everything. I'm so sorry."

I watch Chloe out of the corner of my eye. She's staring at me, her mouth slightly open in a mock expression of shock. She brings a lace handkerchief to her eyes, dabbing at tears that aren't there.

"Oh, Emily, that's devastating," Chloe says. She stands up and moves toward me. She looks at the mother with a mournful expression before turning that gaze back to me. Her eyes don't look sad. If anything, they're bright. "I know how much you wanted this. We all did."

She stops a foot away from me. "But maybe," Chloe continues, her tone dropping into a whisper, "maybe it's probably for the best, isn't it? Everything is so complicated right now with Julian's recovery. Now you don't have that burden holding you back. You can focus on yourself for once."

The word burden rings in my ears like a bell.

A strange, freezing calm settles over me. The heat in the room seems to vanish, replaced by a clarity so clear it feels like a veil dropped from my eyes. I think of the hormones I pumped into my body. I think of the way I sat by Julian's bed, whispering to him about a child I thought would save his family's spirit.

The rage I feel is not something I've ever felt before. It just sits there, a blinding, white-hot stillness that dictates my next move.

Before I can even process, my hand goes up with a speed that catches her completely off guard. The sound of my palm hitting her cheek is loud in the small room.

Chloe's head snaps to the side and stumbles back, a red handprint blooming across her skin.

"Emily!" Julian shouts from the bed. He tries to sit up, his face contorting in pain as his monitors begin to beep a frantic, irregular rhythm. "What the hell are you doing?"

I don't answer him. I grab Chloe by the collar of her silk blouse, dragging her toward the side of the bed. She's screeching, her polished nails clawing at my wrists, but I don't feel a thing. I shove her toward Julian.

"You want to talk about burdens, Chloe?" I ask. "Let's talk about the burden of being a liar. Let's talk about what you two were doing while I was at the clinic trying to save a legacy that didn't even want to be saved."

Julian reaches out, his fingers trembling as he tries to pull my hand away from her collar. "Emily, stop. You're being hysterical."

I look at him then, and the man I thought I loved is gone. In his place is a stranger with a weak chin and a terrified expression. I let go of Chloe's shirt, but only so I can turn the full force of my attention on him.

I raise my hand and bring it down on his face. The first slap is for the three years I wasted. The second slap is for the guilt I carried, thinking I was the reason he was hurt. The third slap is for the farce. For the way they let me walk into a hospital and have a stranger's child implanted in me while they were planning their getaway.

"We're done," I say. "Don't call me. If I see either of you again, I'll make sure the rest of the world knows exactly what kind of people you are."

I turn and walk out, ignoring the muffled cries and the chaos erupting in the room. I don't stop until I'm in the empty stairwell three flights down. I lean against the cold concrete wall and finally, the air breaks. I sob until my lungs ache.

I am alone. I am pregnant with a billionaire's child. And I have nothing.

An hour later, I'm sitting in the waiting room of a low-cost women's clinic on the other side of town. I can't keep Alistair Wolfe's child, not when it was conceived under the umbrella of a lie.

The doctor is a woman in her sixties with tired eyes. She looks at my charts, then back at me. "I have to be honest with you. Your records show a history of severe endometriosis and a very thin lining. This pregnancy is essentially a medical fluke. If we proceed with the termination, the scarring will be permanent. You'll likely never conceive again."

I leave that clinic and go to another. And another. I spend the entire afternoon driving through the city, hearing the same sentence repeated in different accents and different offices. Permanent infertility.

By the time I pull into the driveway of the Vance estate, the sun is already setting. I head toward the study to find my father, but I stop when I hear voices coming from the cracked door of the sitting room.

At this point, I should know not to listen to voices from cracked doors.

"I don't know about this, Lydia," my father's voice says.

"The firm is underwater," a voice replies. It's Lydia, my stepmother. "And this deal with Silas Reed is the only thing that can save us now. He's been asking about Emily for months. He won't care about the fact that the engagement fell apart. He's willing to pay off the primary debt the moment the marriage certificate is signed."

"But the rumors about him," my father says weakly. "The way his last wife ended up... and he's nearly twenty years older than her."

"He's wealthy, Thomas," Lydia snaps. "After the news we got from the hospital, we know that Emily needs to be handled. Silas will keep her on a short leash. "

I lean against the hallway wall, my stomach churning. Silas Reed. He's a predator who is known for his cruelty. My own family is selling me to a monster to save a failing business.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and read the words on the screen with blurry vision. .

Have you reached a decision, Emily? - Alistair Wolfe.

I look at the door to the sitting room, where my father and stepmother are negotiating my life like a piece of livestock. Then I look at the text. I have no husband. I have no family. And if I lose this baby, I have no future.

I hit the call button on the unknown number. It rings once before he picks up.

"I didn't expect your call," the voice says.

"I'll do it," I say. I stand up straight, my hand resting on my stomach. "I'll carry the child. I'll give you your heir."

There's a brief silence on the other end. "A wise choice, Emily. I'll have the papers drawn up for the trust."

"No," I say, my voice hardening. "I don't want the hundred million. I want something else."

"Name it."

I take a deep breath. "You have to marry me, Alistair."