The Billionaire's Contract Bride

Ours

Two weeks later.

The apartment smelled like cheap ginger tea and bleach. My third day of nausea.

Damian thought it was the smoke from Chapter 15. Made me sleep by the window. Bought me crackers. Rubbed my back at 3am when I ran to the bathroom.

“You’re sick because of Isabella,” he muttered last night. Jaw tight. “I’ll sue her for every lungful you breathed.”

I didn’t correct him. Not yet.

This morning I snuck out while he was on the scaffold. Bought a test from the corner store. $3.99.

Hid it in my bag.

Tonight, he came home early. Blisters worse. But he smiled when he saw me. “Got off early. Boss said I work like a man with something to lose.”

He does. Me.

Dinner was ramen again. Always ramen. He’d gotten good at it.

Halfway through, I stood. Walked to the bathroom. Didn’t lock the door.

3 minutes later: two pink lines.

My hands shook. Not from nausea. From truth.

No contract made this. No Clause 8.3. No $50M penalty.

Just us. Broke. Choosing each other. And now… this.

I walked out. Held the test behind my back.

Damian looked up. Saw my face. Dropped his chopsticks.

“What,” he said. Not a question. A prayer.

I held out the test. “I think… I think it’s ours, Damian.”

The apartment went silent. Even the fridge stopped humming.

He stared at the plastic stick like it was written in a language he’d forgotten. Then at me. Then back.

Slowly, he stood. Walked to me. Didn’t touch the test. Touched my stomach instead. One hand. Big. Calloused from cement bags.

His whole body went still.

“Ava,” his voice cracked. “Say it again.”

“It’s ours,” I whispered. Tears hot. “No contract. No deal. Just… us. A baby.”

Damian Black. The man who bought companies without blinking. Who walked through fire for me. Who tore up divorce papers worth billions.

He sank to his knees. Right there on the linoleum. Forehead pressed to my stomach.

And he broke.

Not CEO broken. Not broke barista broken.

Man broken. Open. Shaking.

“I don’t deserve this,” he whispered. Voice muffled against my shirt. “I burned my life down for you. I thought that was the sacrifice. But this… this is a gift.”

I knelt too. Cupped his face. “You deserve this. You deserve everything. Especially this.”

He looked up. Grey eyes wet. Terrified. In awe. “I don’t know how to be a father. I don’t even know how to be a husband without money. What if I fail you both?”

I kissed his knuckles. The ones with new scars from construction. “Then we fail together. And we learn together. Like we did with ramen. Like we did with $9 rings.”

He pulled me into his lap. Both of us on the floor. My head on his chest. His hand still on my stomach.

For a long time, neither of us spoke.

Then he murmured, “What do you want to name it?”

“If it’s a girl,” I said, “Ava Black. After her mom who chose a broke man.”

“If it’s a boy,” he said, voice rough, “Damian Black Jr. After his dad who chose her.”

He kissed my hair. “I spent 30 years building an empire. I’d burn it again for 30 seconds of this.”

The buzzer screamed.

We both ignored it.

Then pounding. Isabella’s voice: “Open up! I know you’re in there, Ava! The doctor called me. Said you bought a pregnancy test. Don’t be stupid. I’ll pay for termination. I’ll give you $5M. Just leave him!”

Damian went dead quiet. The soft father-look vanished. CEO-cold returned in a second.

He stood. Set me down gentle on the couch. Covered me with a blanket.

Then walked to the door. Unlocked it. Didn’t open it all the way.

“Isabella,” he said. Calm. Deadly. “If you ever speak about my child again, I won’t burn a company for you. I’ll burn the world.”

He slammed the door. Locked it. Turned back to me.

The CEO was gone. Just Damian. Hands shaking as he knelt by me again.

He pressed his ear to my stomach. Listened to nothing. Smiled like he heard everything.

“Hi,” he whispered to my belly. “I’m your dad. I’m broke. I’m tired. But I’d move mountains for you and your mom. Starting tomorrow.”

I cried into his hair. “Damian, we have no money. No insurance. No plan.”

He pulled back. Kissed my tears. Then kissed my stomach.

“We have us,” he said. “And that’s more than Black Corp ever was. That’s more than I ever was before you.”

He stood. Pulled me up with him.

“Come on, Mrs. Black. Let’s go tell the landlord we need the bigger unit. Because we’re building something now.”

“Building what?” I asked, hand in his.

He looked at me. Then at my stomach.

“A family,” he said. “Our empire.”