I'm Pregnant, And It Isn't My Husband's

Olivia Pearson had always known men like Sebastian Blackwood existed, but she never thought she'd be sitting across from one, watching him slide a marriage contract across a desk. "Sign here, initial here, and finally, your full signature on the last page." She stared at the heavy cream parchment before her, her father had already signed his portion. James Pearson had signed away not just their company, but her future. "I want to read it first," she said quietly, surprised by the steadiness in her voice when everything inside her was screaming. Sebastian Blackwood leaned back in his chair, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "By all means," he replied. "I admire thoroughness." Olivia forced herself to focus on the document instead of the man. At thirty-eight, Sebastian Blackwood had built an empire that struck fear into the hearts of businessmen across the globe. The "Shark of Wall Street," they called him-a man who didn't just acquire companies but devoured them whole, leaving nothing but bones. The contract was clinical in its brutality. In exchange for saving Pearson Innovations from bankruptcy and keeping her father out of federal prison, she would become Sebastian Blackwood's wife in every sense of the word. The document detailed everything-from mandatory public appearances to private obligations that made her skin flush with equal parts rage and humiliation. "Section 8 is particularly interesting," Sebastian offered casually, watching her expression with those piercing blue eyes that reminded her of arctic ice. "You might want to pay special attention." Her fingers trembled slightly as she turned to the section. Sexual obligations of the wife. Each line was more explicit than the last, detailing not just frequency but specific acts that would be required of her. Heat rushed to her face-not embarrassment, but pure, molten fury. "This is medieval," she hissed, slamming the contract down with enough force. "I won't be your glorified prostitute." Sebastian immediately reached for his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. "Then your father goes to prison tomorrow. The FBI has enough evidence to put him away for twenty years." His voice was matter-of-fact. "At his age, that's essentially a life sentence. The choice is simple, Ms. Pearson." The air rushed from her lungs as though she'd been punched. Her father was many things-distant, cold, obsessed with his legacy-but he was all she had left. She thought of him in a prison cell, gray-haired and broken, and something inside her crumbled. "Why me?" The question burst from her before she could stop it. "There must be a hundred women in New York who would jump at the chance to be Mrs. Blackwood. You could have anyone." Something shifted in those ice-blue eyes-a darkness, an obsession that sent a chill down her spine. "Because," he said, leaning forward, "you're the only one who looked at me with defiance instead of fear or greed. Because when we met at that charity gala last year, you told me exactly what you thought of my business practices, then walked away." His voice dropped to a near-whisper. "No one walks away from me, Olivia." She remembered now-the brief, heated exchange at the Metropolitan Museum fundraiser. She'd called him a corporate vampire. He'd looked at her like she was a puzzle he intended to solve, then destroy. "You're insane," she whispered, suddenly understanding the depth of his fixation. "I'm thorough." He pushed the Mont Blanc pen toward her. "Now sign, or I make the call that ends your father's freedom." Olivia stared at the pen. It gleamed like a knife in the afternoon light. "And if I sign? What guarantee do I have that you'll keep your word?" Sebastian smiled, more like a devil waiting to draw blood. "I never break contracts, Ms. Pearson. It's bad for business." As Olivia reached for the pen, the door opened without warning. A man stepped in-tall, with sandy-blond hair and a face that shared enough features with Sebastian to mark them as brothers, yet somehow held a warmth that Sebastian's lacked entirely. "Sorry to interrupt," the newcomer said, though his tone suggested he wasn't sorry at all. His eyes found Olivia's, and something like concern flashed across his face when he saw the contract before her. "Ethan," Sebastian's voice went cold enough to freeze the air between them. "We're in a meeting." "So I see." Ethan's gaze dropped to the contract, then back to Olivia. "Making another life-altering decision for someone else, Sebastian?" The tension between the brothers crackled like electricity. Olivia sensed a history there-deep, painful, unresolved. Her fingers tightened around the pen as she watched them, suddenly feeling like she'd stepped into a battlefield where the terrain was unknown to her. "Ms. Pearson," Ethan said softly, addressing her directly now. "Whatever he's offering, it's not worth the price." Sebastian's laugh was sharp and without humor. "And what would you know about worth, little brother? You threw away your birthright for..." "Principles?" Ethan suggested, crossing his arms. "Something you wouldn't recognize if they bit you on your Armani-clad ass." In that moment, something sparked inside Olivia-a dangerous hope. The Blackwood brothers clearly despised each other. And in their mutual hatred, she might find leverage. She stood, smoothing her skirt, buying time to think. "Perhaps I should give you two a moment to resolve your... family dispute." "Sit down," Sebastian commanded, his eyes never leaving his brother. "This doesn't concern him." "Doesn't it?" Ethan walked further into the room, his movements fluid and controlled-military precision, Olivia realized. "Because it looks like you're about to ruin another life for your collection." Sebastian rose slowly, his height matching Ethan's, though his build was leaner, more predatory. "You forfeited any right to opinions about my business when you walked away from Blackwood Industries." "I walked away from corruption," Ethan countered. "From what you and Father turned it into." The air between them felt combustible. Olivia watched, fascinated despite herself, as years of resentment played out in glacial stares and rigid postures. "Ms. Pearson," Ethan said without breaking eye contact with his brother, "did Sebastian tell you about the women who came before you? The ones he broke?" Sebastian moved with startling speed, grabbing Ethan by the collar. "Get out," he snarled. "Now." For a heartbeat, Olivia thought they might come to blows. Then Ethan stepped back, a bitter smile on his face. "Think about what you're signing," he told Olivia, his eyes finding hers over Sebastian's shoulder. "Some chains can never be broken." As he turned to leave, he placed something on the edge of the desk-a business card with a handwritten number on the back. "If you need help," he said quietly, "day or night." The door closed behind him, marking his exist. Sebastian turned to her, his composure restored with frightening speed. "My brother is a sentimental fool. It's why he failed in business and crawled back to the military." He gestured to the contract still open before her. "Your decision, Ms. Pearson. Your father's freedom or yours." Olivia looked from the contract to the business card, then back to Sebastian's cold, calculating eyes. There was no choice-not really. Not when her father's life hung in the balance. She picked up the pen and signed.