Married to the Cold Billionaire

Catherine slumped onto the edge of her bed, her head spinning. She closed her eyes, waiting for the room to stop tilting. This wasn't the first time. At first, she’d blamed the late nights and stress, but as the dizziness became a daily occurrence, a cold dread had settled in her chest. She had gone to the hospital expecting bad news, perhaps a serious illness. But the results were far more life-altering. She wasn’t sick. She was four weeks pregnant. A baby was supposed to be a blessing, but for Catherine, it was a looming catastrophe. If her family found out who the father was, her life as she knew it would end. The father was Travis Ashford—the formidable young billionaire and CEO of Ashford Airlines. And he wasn't her boyfriend. He was her cousin Lianne’s fiancé. The incident between them had been a blur of alcohol and poor decisions. They had both been drunk, waking up the next morning in the same bed, naked and horrified. The marks on her skin and the ache in her body left no room for doubt about what had happened. Travis had been her first. Catherine had dated before, but she had always maintained her boundaries, saving herself for someone she truly loved. And in a cruel twist of fate, she did love Travis. She had loved him secretly from the moment they met, watching from the sidelines as he fell for her cousin. She had agreed to Travis’s plea to keep the night a secret. He didn't want to lose Lianne. He didn't want to break her heart. Catherine, trapped by her own guilt and her love for both of them, had promised to stay silent. She never imagined that one night would leave her with a permanent reminder. She hadn't told anyone yet. Her plan was simple: run away. She would find a quiet place far from the city, use her savings to start a small business, and raise the child alone. It was the only way to protect Lianne’s happiness and her own family’s reputation. She took a deep breath, pushing the nausea down. She needed to eat for the sake of the baby. She stood up, steadied herself, and made her way downstairs to the dining area. But as she rounded the corner, her heart plummeted. Seated at the table with her parents were Lianne and Travis. Lianne had been staying with them while her own parents were abroad, and Travis was a frequent guest. Catherine’s instinct was to bolt, to turn around before they saw her. She couldn't look at Lianne without the weight of her betrayal crushing her. But before she could retreat, her mother spotted her. "Oh, Catherine! Come join us," Cathleya called out. "We thought you were still sleeping, so we started without you." Lianne turned with a bright, genuine smile. "Come sit, Cath!" Travis remained still, his gaze fixed on the table. His expression was a stony mask, but Catherine could see the tension in his jaw. Trapped, Catherine walked toward the table. But as she got closer, a pungent, overwhelming scent hit her nostrils. "Something smells... horrible," she blurted out, covering her nose and recoiling. Her mother frowned. "What are you talking about? Nothing smells bad." She turned to Lianne. "Lianne, do you smell anything?" Lianne shook her head, looking puzzled. "No, Auntie. Everything smells delicious." Catherine lowered her hand to test the air again, but the moment she inhaled, her stomach did a violent somersault. Shit. She didn't even have time to apologize. She sprinted to the kitchen sink and began to heave. There was nothing to come up but bile, but the waves of nausea were relentless. She gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles white, waiting for the world to stop spinning. When she finally managed to rinse her mouth and turn around, the dining room was deathly silent. Every eye was on her. She walked back to the table with shaky legs and sat down across from Lianne. She reached for a piece of toast, hoping they’d just ignore the outburst, but her mother’s voice cut through the silence like a knife. "Are you pregnant, Catherine?" Cathleya asked, her brow furrowed into a single, sharp line. Catherine’s breath hitched. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Before she could find a lie, her father’s voice boomed from the head of the table. "Who is the father?" James demanded, his tone cold and terrifyingly serious. Panic seized her. In her desperation, her eyes instinctively darted to Travis. He was glaring at her, his face dark with a mix of fury and fear. Catherine saw Lianne’s gaze follow hers, moving from Catherine to Travis and back again. The clatter of silverware hitting the floor echoed like a gunshot. Lianne had dropped her fork, her face turning a ghostly shade of white as the pieces of the puzzle finally clicked into place.