The Billionaire’s Secret Obsession

I’m pregnant with my boss’s baby. And he’s engaged to a woman who would rather see me dead than holding his child. I clutch the positive test in my purse like it’s a loaded gun. My hand keeps brushing against it as I dig for my office badge, every touch a reminder that I’ve screwed up in the most irreversible way. My heels echo too loudly on the marble floor of Blackwell Enterprises. I’m five minutes late. Not enough to be noticeable—unless your boss is Gabriel Blackwell. Which mine is. He doesn’t tolerate mistakes. Or lateness. Or—God help me—secrets like this one. I swipe my badge and step into the elevator, trying to breathe. My reflection in the steel doors looks like someone else. Same brown hair, same cheap mascara smudged from a sleepless night. But the panic in my eyes? That’s new. It’s been two weeks since the night I lost my mind. Two weeks since I stood outside that charity gala, soaked in rain, waiting for a cab that never came. And then Gabriel pulled up. And I got in. And I let him touch me. One night. One reckless, blistering night. No protection. No excuses. No plan. The elevator opens directly onto the top floor—his floor. I step out and walk the long hallway to my desk outside his office. My pulse thrums in my ears. I feel like I’m walking into a trap I set for myself. I settle into my seat and try to breathe like a normal person. The inbox is already flooded. I scan for urgent messages, pretending not to notice that his door is open just a crack. Pretending not to hear footsteps behind me. Then his voice cuts through. “Emma.” I freeze. Then turn. Gabriel Blackwell stands in the doorway, dark suit tailored to perfection, black hair slightly tousled like he ran a frustrated hand through it. His expression is unreadable. But his eyes? They pin me in place. “Inside. Now.” I follow him in, every step heavy with dread and something darker—something I can’t name. The door clicks shut behind me, sealing us into the room that started it all. He doesn’t sit. Just leans against the edge of his desk and folds his arms across his chest. “I asked you a question in the conference room yesterday.” His voice is low, controlled. I nod. “You did.” “You didn’t answer.” My mouth is dry. “Gabriel—” “Are you pregnant?” There’s no escape. His tone isn’t gentle, and it sure as hell isn’t curious. It’s sharp. Accusing. But underneath… is that fear? I swallow. “Yes.” The silence stretches until I think I might choke on it. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. His jaw tightens. “How far along?” “Five weeks.” His eyes flicker—calculating. Tracking time. He knows it lines up with *that* night. No doubt. He looks away for a moment. And when he looks back, the man I see is not my boss. Not the billionaire in suits and silence. He’s the man who touched me like I was fire. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Because I was scared. Because you belong to someone else. Because I thought I could pretend this never happened. Because I didn’t think you’d care. I say none of those things. “I didn’t know how.” That earns me a bitter laugh. “She can’t find out,” he says finally. And there it is. Not Are you okay? Not What do you need? Not I want to be there. Just panic. Just Camilla. His fiancée. The woman who walks into rooms like she owns them and looks at me like I’m the dirt under her thousand-dollar heels. “I’m not going to cause problems,” I say quickly. “I’m not asking for anything.” “Doesn’t matter what you’re asking.” His voice drops. “You already did.” His words cut, but what stings more is how fast he said them. Like he’d rehearsed. Like he knew this was coming. I want to cry. Scream. Apologize. Slap him. But I do none of those things. I nod. Then I leave his office without another word—before I break in front of him. Back at my desk, I pull open the drawer and stuff my bag inside, hands trembling. I can’t do this. I can’t sit here all day while he pretends I’m invisible. While his perfect life continues like I never mattered. I start to stand— But stop cold. Because Camilla Rothschild is walking toward me in heels that cost more than my rent, her icy gaze locked on mine. She’s early. And behind her? Gabriel. Still in the same suit. Still with that look on his face that says everything’s about to get worse.