Pregnant with the Billionaire’s Stolen Heir

Chapter one Emily’s Pov The church looked beautiful, white roses lining every pew, sunlight through stained glass scattering color across the marble floor. It was exactly the wedding I’d spent eighteen months planning with the man I believed I’d spend the rest of my life with. I stood in the bridal suite staring at my reflection, fingers trembling around a bouquet of white lilies. My dress fit perfectly, every lace detail chosen after months of saving from my salary. “You look beautiful.” I turned to find my younger brother leaning against the doorway. Ethan, nineteen now, had somehow gotten taller than me over the past year, tugging awkwardly at the collar of his rented tuxedo. “You don’t have to lie,” I laughed softly. “I’m serious. You really look happy.” I walked over and fixed his crooked bow tie. “I am happy.” And I meant it. After our parents died in a car accident seven years ago, I’d given up graduate school to raise him — two jobs, skipped meals, nights I cried after he fell asleep so he’d never know how bad things got. It wasn’t perfect, but we survived. Then I met Daniel Foster. He wasn’t wealthy or powerful, just kind — or so I thought. He’d promised me a better life, promised I’d never carry every burden alone again. Today was supposed to be the start of that. “You deserve this,” Ethan said. “So do you,” I told him, squeezing his shoulder. “When Daniel and I get married, you won’t have to worry about tuition anymore.” “I already told you I want to work part-time, help out—” “I know. I’m not letting you throw away your education because life’s been unfair to us.” “I’ll graduate,” he muttered. “I’ll get a good job. I’ll take care of you for once.” “I’ll believe it when I see it,” I laughed. A knock interrupted us, the coordinator. “Five minutes.” My heart skipped as I followed her toward the sanctuary. The music began. The guests stood. My eyes went straight to the altar, searching for Daniel. The space beside the officiant was empty. Maybe he’d stepped away. Maybe there was a delay. The music kept playing while whispers spread through the church and the officiant checked his watch. I looked at Daniel’s parents in the front row, his mother confused, his father already dialing his phone. Neither looked worried yet. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. The guests sat back down. The musicians stopped. I looked at Ethan, who forced a smile. “I’m sure he’s stuck in traffic.” I nodded. Traffic. Daniel wasn’t irresponsible. He wouldn’t leave me standing here. Another fifteen minutes crawled by before the coordinator hurried over. “We’ve been trying to reach your fiancé. His phone is off.” Daniel’s phone was never off. I called, straight to voicemail. Again. Again. Nothing. Guests started leaving. I heard whispers, did he get cold feet, I heard they’ve been arguing, poor girl,each one another knife. An hour passed. Then another, until the church emptied and even Daniel’s parents were gone, no explanation, no apology. I sat alone in the front pew in my wedding dress, holding flowers that had begun to wilt, telling myself maybe there’d been an accident, maybe he was hurt, until my phone buzzed. A text from Daniel. Relief flooded through me and vanished the instant I opened it. Emily, by the time you read this, I’ll already be gone. Don’t bother looking for me. I met someone who can give me the life I’ve always wanted,wealthy, connected, beautiful. Unlike you, she doesn’t come with endless financial problems. I deserve more than struggling forever. You should move on. I already have. Daniel. I read it three times before the words blurred together. My knees gave out. The phone slipped to the floor. He’d left me, for another woman, for her money, after everything we’d survived, after every promise. A sob broke loose, then another, and I couldn’t stop them. Ethan’s hand landed on my shoulder, his voice shaking with rage. “I’m going to find him and make him explain….” “No,” I said, barely recognizing my own voice. “It won’t change anything. If someone can leave like this, he already left a long time ago.” Before either of us could say more, the church doors opened. Police officers filed in, followed by two men in dark suits carrying briefcases. One officer scanned the room and stopped me. “Emily Carter?” “Yes.” “We need to speak with you regarding Daniel Foster.” Hope flickered despite everything. “You found him?” “No.” One of the suited men stepped forward. “I’m Michael Reeves, Dominion National Bank.” The other named a second institution. “Why are bankers here?” He opened a thick file. “Miss Carter, did you recently co-sign several commercial loans with Mr. Foster?” “No.” “Our records show you signed agreements totaling nearly five million dollars.” He slid documents toward me, my signature on every page. My blood ran cold. “That’s impossible. I never signed these.” “Our investigation indicates your fiancé may have forged your signature,” the officer said gently. “He used the funds over several months. The money is gone. We believe he’s already left the country.” Everything spun. “There must be another explanation.” “Legally, until forgery is proven in court, you remain jointly responsible,” the banker said, closing the folder. “Your assets have been frozen. Your accounts, your apartment, repossessed under the emergency order. Your salary too.” “I’m sorry,” the officer added, and the word felt meaningless. In a single afternoon I’d lost my fiancé, my home, my savings, my future, and I hadn’t done anything wrong. It got worse by evening. Social media called me Daniel’s accomplice, our wedding an elaborate scam. Coworkers stopped answering. Friends vanished. When I went to Daniel’s parents’ house, his mother pointed a finger at me. “If you hadn’t pressured him into marriage, none of this would’ve happened.” “He forged my signature.” “You must have known.” “I didn’t.” “You expect us to believe our son would do that unless you pushed him?” his father said, arms folded. “Stay away from our family.” The door shut in my face, and I didn’t even have the strength left to cry. By the time we reached the motel room Ethan had rented with his savings, exhaustion had settled into my bones. Our apartment was sealed. We sat on opposite beds in silence until Ethan spoke. “I’ll quit school.” “No.” “I mean it. I can work full-time.,,,” “No. You are not sacrificing your future because of Daniel.” “But we have nothing.” “We still have each other.” “That’s not enough,” he said, eyes filling. “It has to be.” After he fell asleep, I sat by the window with unpaid bills spread across the bed, rent, insurance, tuition, legal notices, running the numbers again and again, each time worse than the last. Four weeks before everything left in my name could be seized. I reached for my phone to distract myself from the panic. An ad appeared between two news articles: Elite Genesis Fertility Center, healthy women twenty-one to thirty invited to apply for a confidential surrogacy program. Compensation: up to $5,000,000. I stared at the number, certain I’d misread it. My thumb hovered over the screen, my heart pounding. For the first time since my world collapsed, one impossible thought entered my mind. Could this be the answer? yh yh yh