The Billionaire’s Runaway Babymama

The sheets were still tangled around my legs when Lucien reached for his shirt. I watched him in silence from the king-sized bed, my fingers tightening around the blanket as he buttoned the crisp black fabric over skin I had memorised far too well in six months. Six months of secret hotel rooms, midnight calls, cold rules and kisses that felt dangerously close to love. Lucien Arden never stayed after sunrise. He had never kissed me twice in public and never promised me anything beyond the next night. Yet somehow, I had started waiting for him. Waiting for his texts, waiting for the sound of his voice and for the rare moments his cold expression softened only for me. That was my first mistake. “You’re staring again,” he said calmly, adjusting the silver cuff on his wrist. I looked away immediately. “You’re imagining things.” His lips almost curved into a smile, but not quite. God, even that tiny reaction made my chest ache. I hated how badly I wanted him to come back to bed. Or how I wanted to jump out of bed, wrap my arms around his waist, and beg him to stay. I was falling for him…hard. He didn't even look back. He just reached for his Rolex. "Lucien?" I whispered, my voice thick. "Do you have to go so soon? It’s only 6:00 AM." "I have a meeting," he said, his voice as cold as a winter morning in New York. He didn't turn around. He never did after the act was over. Suddenly, his phone buzzed. He checked it, and his entire posture shifted. His jaw tightened so hard I thought it might crack. My own phone chimed on the nightstand a second later. I picked it up, expecting a message from my father. Instead, my breath left my lungs. [Bank Alert: $5,000,000.00 has been deposited into your account.] The room started to spin. Our arrangement was simple. I was his secret companion for one year, and in exchange, he would give me the funds to escape my father’s house and start my jewelry business. But it had only been six months. "Lucien..." My voice trembled as I held up the phone. "The money. Why is it all here? Is this... is this for the bags I asked for yesterday? Or designer shoes? But you’ve already sent me money for that. Have you forgotten?” He finally turned. His green eyes, usually burning with passion in the dark, were now flat and lifeless. "Consider it a severance package, Abigail," he said. My heart stopped. "What?" "I’m getting engaged," Lucien stated, as calmly as if he were discussing the weather. "The affair is over. We’re cutting the contract short. I need you out of this hotel in an hour, and I expect total silence. From this second on, I don't know you, and you don't know me." The pain was so sharp I couldn't even scream. I forced a mask of indifference onto my face, mirroring his coldness. “I see,” I whispered, my voice cracking despite my effort to sound calm. Slowly, I slipped out of the bed and walked toward him stark naked, ignoring the cold air against my skin. Lucien’s eyes followed me silently as I stopped in front of him and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. A goodbye kiss. One he didn’t even realise was the last. I pulled back with a faint smile that hurt to hold together. “Well,” I said quietly, “five million dollars is a lot more than six months of work is worth.” My fingers curled slightly at my sides. “I guess I should thank you for the bonus.” He didn't blink. "Goodbye, Abigail." The door clicked shut. I stayed in that bed for exactly two hours, sobbing until my throat burned. Then, I wiped my eyes, put on my armor, and drove to the one place I hated most…the Laurent Mansion. The moment I walked into the foyer, a heavy hand slammed across my face. Smack! The force sent me stumbling into a marble vase. I tasted blood. My father, Richard Laurent, stood over me, his face twisted in disgust. "Where the hell have you been, you disgraceful girl?" he roared. "Staying out all night like a common street walker? Do you have any idea what today is?" I stood up, holding my throbbing cheek, staring at him with eyes full of hate. "I'm twenty-four, Father. Not a child." Vivian Hale stood beside him in silk pajamas, watching with satisfaction hidden behind fake concern. “Richard, calm down,” she murmured softly. “She’s still grieving.” Liar. My mother had barely been dead a year before Vivian moved into this house wearing her diamonds. “I don’t care where you’ve been,” my father snapped at me. “Tonight, Clara’s fiancé is coming over. Try not to embarrass this family for once.” I froze for only half a second. Clara descended the staircase with a bright smile, her arm already linked with Vivian’s. “Daddy, don’t be too harsh on her,” she said sweetly. “Not everyone can behave properly.” I walked past them without a word. If they noticed the pain in my face, they ignored it. Just like always. By 7:00 PM, I was forced downstairs in a conservative lace dress. Clara, my stepsister, was glowing. She wore a sapphire pendant which was my mother's pendant around her neck. "Oh, Abby," Clara smirked, adjusted her hair. "Try to look happy for me. My fiancé is the most powerful man in the city. You could never dream of a man like him." The doorbell rang. My father hurried to open it. "Ah, Lucien! Welcome!" The world went white. Standing there, tall and imposing in a black suit, was Lucien Arden. He didn't even glance at me. He walked straight to Clara, took her hand, and kissed her knuckles. "You look lovely, Clara." I felt like I was going to vomit. This was the man who had whispered my name in the dark just hours ago. Now, he was holding the hand of the girl who made my life a living hell. During dinner, the silence between us was deafening. After the meal, while my father and Vivian were in the kitchen, Lucien cornered me in the hallway. He gripped my arm, his fingers digging into my skin. “What are you doing here, Abigail?” Lucien hissed the second the hallway emptied, his hand suddenly wrapping tightly around my wrist. “Are you stalking me? I told you we were done.” I stared at him in disbelief. Even now, standing inside my father’s mansion with his fiancée downstairs waiting for him, he still looked at me like I belonged to him. Rage burned through my chest. I tried pulling away, but his grip only tightened. “Let go of me.” “Answer me first.” His green eyes searched my face furiously. “Why are you here?” A bitter laugh escaped me. “You really don’t know anything about me, do you?” His jaw flexed impatiently. “Abigail—” “I live here, you arrogant prick,” I snapped, finally ripping my hand from his grasp. “Clara is my stepsister.” Lucien’s expression changed instantly. The colour drained from his face while realisation slowly settled into his eyes. “You’re a Laurent?” he asked quietly. I folded my arms tightly across my chest, trying to hold myself together while humiliation clawed through me. Not once in six months had he cared enough to ask about my family. My life. Anything real about me. To him, I had only been a beautiful secret hidden between hotel sheets. “Not that you ever cared enough to know,” I said coldly. Lucien took a step toward me. “Abigail, wait—” “No.” I stepped back immediately. But he moved closer again. And suddenly his hand was against the wall beside my head, trapping me between him and the cold marble surface. My breathing hitched traitorously. God, I hated this. I hated that my body still remembered him even while my heart was breaking apart. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice lower now. I looked up at him sharply. “Would it have changed anything?” He didn’t answer. On hearing Clara approaching I uttered, “Brother-in-law, why not go back downstairs to your lovely fiancée instead of cornering me in hallways like some psychopath.” Lucien’s expression darkened at the word fiancée. “Clara means nothing to me.” I laughed bitterly. “That’s funny, because she seems to mean enough for you to marry her.” I shoved past him before the tears in my eyes could fall. “Go to hell, Lucien.” “Abigail—” Then I ran. I ran down the hallway, into my room, and slammed the door shut before locking it immediately. I woke up and barely made it to the toilet before I was retching. My head was spinning. I snuck out to a clinic, my heart in my throat. "Congratulations, Ms. Laurent," the doctor said, handing me a slip of paper. "You’re three months pregnant." I walked home in a daze. Pregnant. With the baby of the man who was marrying my enemy. When I entered the house, it wasn't a celebration. My father and Vivian were waiting. "You think you're clever, don't you?" My father grabbed me by the hair, throwing me to the floor. He began to kick me, his heavy shoes hitting my ribs. "You are trying to upstage Clara? Trying to ruin this merger?" He beat me until I couldn't breathe. When he and Vivian finally left, Clara stepped into the room. She looked down at me, a cruel smile on her lips while I found it hard to breathe hoping my baby was fine. "Dad just signed the papers, Abby," she whispered. "And guess what? Your shares in the company are gone and you are now penniless. You’re nothing." She leaned down. "You keep asking why your mother died in that car crash. Maybe you should ask why the brakes failed right after she found out about my mother. Accidents happen to people who get in our way." I looked at her, then at my stomach. I realised then that if I stayed, they wouldn't just kill me. They would kill my baby. And Lucien on the other hand had made it known that he wanted nothing to do with me. There was no way I was letting him know of this. He had chosen them and he was getting married soon. I looked at my phone. The headlines were everywhere: Arden and Laurent Wedding Set for Next Month. I didn't pack a bag. I grabbed my passport and the five million dollars Lucien had used to throw me away. “You want me to be a stranger, Lucien?” I thought, tears streaming down my face as I boarded the plane. Fine. You will never know our child exists.”