The CEO Fell for His Dead Wife
Chapter 8
Regina woke to silence.
Not the peaceful kind—the heavy, pressing kind that sat on her chest and refused to move. Morning light filtered through her curtains, pale and unforgiving. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. Then reality rushed back in.
Her room.
Her bed.
Her life.
And the night she wasn’t supposed to remember.
She sat up abruptly, her heart pounding. The scent of unfamiliar cologne still lingered on her skin, faint but undeniable. Regina pressed her fingers to her lips, as if she could erase the memory that way.
*It was a mistake*, she told herself.
*A single night. Nothing more.*
Yet her body betrayed her calm. Her chest felt tight, her thoughts scattered. She moved through her morning routine on autopilot—shower, uniform, bag—each action precise, controlled. She needed control now more than ever.
At breakfast, Sasha was already there.
“You’re late,” she remarked lightly, sipping her tea.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Regina replied, keeping her eyes down.
Their mother glanced at her. “You look tired. Don’t let personal distractions interfere with your responsibilities.”
Personal distractions.
Regina nodded. “Yes, Mama.”
She didn’t trust her voice beyond that.
---
At medical school, the world felt slightly tilted. The corridors were louder. The lights too bright. Every laugh felt directed at her, every whisper a potential accusation.
She sat through lectures without absorbing a word.
*What if someone saw me?*
*What if he looks for me?*
*What if I ruined everything?*
Her stomach churned.
By midday, nausea hit her hard and fast. Regina barely made it to the restroom before gripping the sink, breathing shallowly as the wave passed.
“Pull yourself together,” she whispered to her reflection.
Her face looked pale. Different.
She dismissed it as nerves. Stress. Lack of sleep.
She had no idea how wrong she was.
---
Days passed.
The nausea returned.
Then the dizziness.
Then the exhaustion that sleep couldn’t fix.
Regina stopped counting the days.
She stopped sleeping properly.
She stopped feeling like herself.
One evening, she stood in a pharmacy aisle, staring at a shelf she swore she would never look at. Her hands trembled as she picked up the box and shoved it into her bag like contraband.
Her heart pounded all the way home.
She locked her door.
She waited.
Two lines.
The room spun.
“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no…”
Her knees buckled, and she slid to the floor, clutching the test to her chest as if that might change the result. Tears came silently—hot, relentless.
Pregnant.
By a man she didn’t know.
By a mistake she wasn’t allowed to make.
By someone who could destroy what little life she had left—without even trying.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from her mother.
*The Harrisons are finalizing the announcement. Prepare yourself.*
Regina laughed then—soft, broken.
*Prepare yourself*, they said.
For what?
For ruin?
---
She told no one.
Not Sasha.
Not her parents.
Not Harris.
She moved through life like a ghost, hiding the truth inside her like a ticking bomb. She avoided mirrors. Avoided food. Avoided people.
Until she couldn’t anymore.
The Harrisons cancelled the contract.
It happened quietly at first.
Then violently.
Her father stormed into her room one evening, his face dark with fury. “What have you done?”
Regina stood frozen. “I don’t understand.”
“They withdrew,” he snapped. “Without explanation. Do you know what that means?”
Her mother followed, eyes cold. “It means you embarrassed us.”
“I didn’t—” Regina’s voice cracked. “I followed every rule.”
Her father laughed bitterly. “Rules don’t matter if trust is gone.”
Trust.
She felt sick.
---
The article broke the next morning.
**GRAY DAUGHTER INVOLVED IN SCANDAL — CONTRACT MARRIAGE TERMINATED**
There was no name.
But everyone knew.
Medical school summoned her by noon.
The board didn’t ask questions. They didn’t need to.
“Given the circumstances,” the dean said stiffly, “your enrollment is hereby suspended pending investigation.”
Suspended.
Regina walked out numb.
Outside, her phone exploded with messages. Unknown numbers. Accusations. Insults.
She went home to find her suitcase by the door.
“You’re no longer welcome here,” her mother said calmly. “You’ve disgraced us.”
Sasha stood behind her, arms crossed, eyes unreadable.
Regina turned to her, desperate. “You know this isn’t what it looks like.”
Sasha tilted her head. “Isn’t it?”
That was when Regina understood.
This wasn’t an accident.
This was orchestration.
And she had lost.
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