The Billionaire’s Hidden Heir

The Search

Ava

The internet is a dangerous place when you’re pregnant and spiraling.

I started with a simple Google search:

“New York rooftop tech party + April 22 + billionaire attendee list.”

Pathetic, I know.

But somewhere between nausea, back pain, and the silence of my empty apartment, I convinced myself that maybe just maybe in could figure out who he was. Not to beg. Not even for money. Just… to know.

To tell him.

To give him the chance to say “no” to my face.

Tasha thought I was insane.

“You want to go chasing some rich ghost?” she asked, cradling a smoothie like it was her emotional support animal.

“I’m not chasing him,” I said. “I just don’t want my child to grow up not knowing half of who they are.”

She sighed. “Girl, if he didn’t even bother to leave his name, maybe he already made that choice.”

Maybe.

But I wasn’t ready to close a door I hadn’t even knocked on yet.

The breakthrough came on i********:.

A tagged photo from that same night. A blurry shot of the rooftop with champagne flutes and string lights and a familiar jawline in the background. He wasn’t posing. Just… existing. In the corner. In control.

I clicked the tag:

@ethancross_official

Verified. 4.7 million followers. CEO, CrossTech.

And suddenly, the stranger had a name.

Ethan Cross.

I wish I could say I messaged him immediately. I didn’t.

I sat on the couch for two hours, stalking every corner of his online life. His company. His scandals. His Forbes cover. His ex-fiancée, Veronica Vale, looked like a human sculpture. His charity appearances. His expressionless face beside headlines like “Ethan Cross: The Billionaire Who Hates Being Famous.”

The more I read, the more the puzzle fit together. He wasn’t just some rich guy. He was the kind of rich that controlled conversations. The kind of untouchable that made women disappear once they were done being useful.

And I had slept with him. Without a name. Without protection.

Idiot.

Three Days Later

I stood outside CrossTech headquarters with a hand on my belly and a folder clutched to my chest.

I don’t know what I expected—security to recognize me? For the receptionist to say, “Oh, the mystery one-night stand? Right this way”?

Instead, I got a laminated visitor tag and a polite, skeptical look from the assistant who escorted me to the 39th floor.

“Wait here,” she said. “He doesn’t usually accept walk-ins.”

“I’m not a walk-in,” I replied, holding back the tremble in my voice. “He knows me.”

Lie. Maybe.

But five minutes later, I was standing in a penthouse office staring into the same stormy grey eyes that haunted my sleep.

He didn’t smile.

Didn’t stand.

Just leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, gaze sharp.

“Should I know you?”

I swallowed.

“I’m pregnant,” I said. “It’s yours.”

Silence.

No gasp. No denial. No reaching for me or the baby I’d barely begun to show.

Just a quiet, calculated sigh.

“You need to leave,” he said, finally.

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not the first to say that. You won’t be the last.”

I took a step forward, heat rising in my throat. “This isn’t a trap. I don’t want your money. I just thought—”

“That I’d be excited?”

“No,” I said, shaking. “I thought you might want to know.”

He stood then. Slowly. Intimidating in a tailored charcoal suit, towering over me like I was some minor inconvenience on his billion-dollar to-do list.

“I’ve been through this before,” he said, voice cold. “Fake pregnancies. Women are hoping for a payout. I don’t do second chances, and I don’t do family.”

Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him.

“So that’s it?” I asked. “You sleep with strangers and pretend they don’t exist?”

“I didn’t force you into my bed.”

“No,” I whispered, “but you left me in it.”

Diary Entry – That Night

Dear Lana,

Yes, I already named you. I’m sorry. I know it’s early.

Today I met your father. He looked at me like I was a mistake. I wish I could say he was kind. That he took my hand or showed some hint of who he was under all that steel. But he didn’t.

And I walked away. For you. For me.

But part of me wonders… is that the end?

Ava