Pregnant for my sterile billionaire

A silvery crescent moon sank toward the silent Hawaiian shore, turning the waves to silver on this particular night. The waves hummed in a melodious soothing serenade as Carter and Kimberly began their maiden night as man and wife. The whole town was abuzz with their lavishly conducted wedding that included people of the richest and most powerful family of California. Now, bathed in the golden light of the honeymoon suite, Kimberly giggled softly, oblivious to the chaos brewing inside her new husband's skull. Carter watched her from across the room, his heart heavy with a guilt he had been unable to get rid of. She looked lovely in her white silk, the red blush over her cheekbones a legacy from the wine they shared at dinner. Her innocence, her trust-it was like a knife twisted into his chest. He had no option but to go ahead now. The plan had been set too far in advance to turn back from when they said, "I do." "Another glass of champagne?" Carter asked, forcing a smile and holding up the bottle. Kimberly giggled, swirling the golden liquid in her glass. “I think you’re trying to get me drunk, Mr. Myles.” “Drunk on love,” he replied, his voice tight as he poured her another glass. She laughed again, and to his ears, the sound was music. But Carter's hands shook as he reached inside the pocket of his coat to that vial-the minut bottle cold against his palm, a cruel reminder of what he was to do. He wavered, and his conscience shrieked at him to stop, but a fear of losing her, her walking away as soon as she found out he was sterile pushed him further, and this was the only way. The thought of Kimberly leaving him, looking at him with pity or, worse, disappointment, was something he could not stand. As she turned to look out at the view of the ocean, he emptied the contents of the vial into her glass. The liquid was instantly gone into the clear liquid and left no trace. When she turned back to him, her smile was as bright as ever. "To us," she said, raising her glass. "To us," Carter repeated, his throat tight. She had downed the champagne in one graceful gulp, never dreaming of the storm brewing beneath Carter's calm facade. In minutes, Kimberly's eyelids drooped, and she swayed slightly in her seat. "I think…I think I need to lie down," she slurred. Carter caught her before she fell and guided her gently toward the bedroom. His heart clenched as she leaned into him, trusting him implicitly. "Let me help you," he whispered above the sound of the sea. He led her to the bed and helped her lie down. Kimberly smiled up at him, her eyes half-closed. “You’re the best husband,” she whispered, her words slurred but filled with warmth. Carter swallowed hard, unable to respond. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment as guilt clawed at his insides. “I’ll be right back,” he said, his voice breaking. In the hallway, Griffin leaned back against the wall, his features unreadable. His dark eyes met Carter's, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. "Are you sure about this?" Griffin asked in a low voice. Carter nodded, though his belly churned with doubt. “Just do your part, I made sure she won't remember anything." Griffin raised a brow. "And if she does?" "She won't," Carter spat loud, his voice sharper than he'd intended. "Just do it." Griffin smiled, a curl of his lips that put Daniel's teeth on edge. "Fine. But you owe me for this." He handed Griffin a keycard, and Griffin slipped it into his pocket. Without a word, Griffin walked past Carter into the bedroom. Carter didn't budge an inch, and the muffled sounds that filtered through only quickened the rapid beat of his heart, fisting his hands all over as his whole being screamed at him to make it stop. Then he heard it-the murmur of Kimberly's soft moans, her voice calling out in ecstasy a name, his name. Carter was crushingly aware of his back against the wall, and his head tilted up towards the ceiling; a new wave of tears welled within his eyes. He'd done it for her, for them, he had no choice. Or so he soothed his conscience into saying. An hour afterwards, Griffin emerged from the room in a wracked shirt and a smirk perpetually on his face. "It's done," said he, holding his hand up in expectation. Carter's face screwed up in a scowl as he forced a fat envelope full of money into Carter's hand. "You never speak of this again. To anyone. Especially Kimberly, She must never find out about this." Griffin laughed and stuffed the envelope into his jacket. "Don't sweat it, bro, your secret is safe with me." Griffin turned and walked away as Carter was shaking, his hand laid on the handle of the door. He slowly creaked it open and stepped into the dark room. Kimberly lay on the bed, her hair splayed across the pillow, soft, even breathing escaping her lips. She was at peace; it was as if nothing had happened to her. Carter sat next to her, brushing a strand of hair off her face. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “Carter?” she murmured, her voice groggy. “I’m here,” he said, forcing a smile. She leaned for his hand, her fingers curling into his. "That was amazing," she whispered, her eyes slipping shut again. Carter's heart shattered into a million pieces. She thought it was him. She believed they shared a night of passion together. He leaned back against the headboard staring up to the ceiling as guilt and sorrow consumed him. His mind was filled with the same thoughts he had told himself a thousand times, that this is for the best. For the best, but deep inside, he wasn't that convinced to live with what he did.