Pregnant With The Alpha CEO's Secret Heir

Johanna POV:

One month ago, I slept with my boss.

For a whole month, I kept telling myself: this matter must be kept to myself, kept completely hidden, as if it never happened.

Then, on an ordinary Tuesday morning, in front of the entire thirty-fifth floor, my body called me a liar.

One moment, I was staring at the quarterly expense report, the numbers blurring into a meaningless gray haze. The next, my stomach churned violently, a bitter wave of acid climbing up my throat.

I made it to the ladies' room by inches.

I crashed into the first stall and retched until there was nothing left—until my eyes streamed, my legs shook, and my knuckles ached white against the porcelain. And through every brutal heave, one thought kept circling like a shark:

I took the pill.

I swallowed it the very next morning. I did everything right. So this could not be what it looked like.

The gray-faced woman in the mirror over the sink didn't look convinced.

By the time I slid back into my chair, my hands had almost stopped trembling. Almost.

"Okay, that's the third time this week." Chloe Hayes leaned over the partition from the adjacent cubicle, her brow furrowed with genuine concern—but her eyes held the familiar glint of office gossip. "And it's always in the morning. Jo, you look like death."

I forced a smile, my lips feeling stiff.

"I'm fine." I lied, my voice tight. "Maybe just something I ate for breakfast."

My hand trembled as I reached for my water bottle. I needed to wash the acrid taste out of my mouth before my stomach staged a second coup.

Chloe's eyes narrowed playfully. "Morning sickness? Are you pregnant?"

The plastic bottle nearly slipped from my grasp.

Cold dread went through me like a dropped elevator.

"No! Of course not!" I snapped, louder than I intended. "Don't be ridiculous."

But my thoughts had already pulled me back to that night, without even asking for my permission first.

He kissed me in the hotel elevator, his breath smelling of whiskey, one arm around my waist. I remember his weight. He was hot, like he had a fever, his temperature much higher than normal. The deep sounds he made against my skin still linger in my memory.

Then dawn broke. Julian Montgomery lay on the disheveled sheets, a heavy arm pressing down on me, rendering me unable to move even in my unconscious state. I carefully and slowly freed myself from beneath him, holding my breath, and then ran out.

I remember fleeing in a panic the next morning, my cheeks burning with shame as I hurried down the street.

And I remembered the corner pharmacy. The small white box. The pill I swallowed right there on the sidewalk, washed down with lukewarm coffee because my hands were shaking too hard to wait.

I took precautions.

It was impossible.

I had made sure it was impossible.

Chloe raised her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Just a thought." She shrugged and turned back to her monitor, though I could feel her curiosity still lingering in the air between us.

I took a slow, careful breath and forced my eyes back to the spreadsheet. The numbers swam. The nausea hadn't left—it had just curled up low in my belly, a stubborn knot, waiting.

Just then, the internal line on my desk phone buzzed. It was Maria, one of the executive assistants from the top floor.

"Johanna, an urgent encrypted report needs to get to Mr. Montgomery immediately," she said, her voice rushed. "Lucas and I are swamped. I heard Mr. Montgomery is out for a meeting this afternoon. Could you just take it up and leave it on his desk?"

A wave of relief washed over me, so potent it almost made me dizzy.

He was out.

This was perfect. A chance to fulfill a high-priority task without the risk of actually seeing him.

"Of course," I said, my voice steady for the first time all morning. "I'll take it up right away."

I could just slip in, drop the file, and slip out. A ghost. He would never even know I was there.

I retrieved the heavy, sealed folder from the secure filing cabinet. The weight of it in my hands felt grounding. This was just a task. A simple delivery.

I walked towards the elevator bank, my steps feeling lighter than they had all day.

Inside the elevator, the polished steel walls reflected my pale, drawn face. I smoothed down my blouse, trying to compose myself. I could do this. It was nothing.

The elevator chimed softly, the doors sliding open onto the top floor.

The corridor was silent, carpeted in a plush gray that muffled my footsteps. The air here was different-cooler, stiller, smelling faintly of expensive leather and something else... something that reminded me of pine and cold winter air. It was his scent.

I walked quickly towards the imposing double doors of the CEO's office, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs. Just drop it and go.

I reached the door, my hand outstretched, ready to push it open.

At that exact moment, the doors of his private elevator, set flush against the wall beside his office, slid open without a sound.

Julian Montgomery stepped out.

He had returned from his meeting early.

We froze, locking eyes in the silent hallway.

The world tilted on its axis. The folder slipped from my numb fingers, hitting the plush carpet with a soft thud. The blood drained from my face, leaving my skin cold and clammy.

Every carefully constructed wall of avoidance I had built for the past month crumbled into dust.

His blue eyes, which I had only seen in my nightmares for weeks, narrowed slightly. They were sharp, piercing, missing nothing.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was a low rumble, deep and commanding, echoing in the cavernous silence.

It wasn't a question. It was an accusation.

I felt like a prey animal caught in the unblinking stare of a predator.

I fumbled to pick up the folder, my fingers clumsy. "The... the encrypted report," I stammered, holding it up like a shield. "They said you were out."