Unbroken bond

*Bella:* "Ryan... I won't be able to mother a child ever again!" She throws herself into my arms like we're in the final scene of some tragic movie. Tears. Loud sobs. Full-body wailing. "Oh my... babe... I'm so sorry," I say, pulling her closer, trying to comfort her while my brain completely freezes. _Flashback ends._ *RYAN'S POV* That day lives in my head rent-free. No matter how many zeroes are in my bank account, I can't pay it to leave. I was 18. College freshman. Broke, stupid, and scared of everything. When Bella told me she was pregnant, I completely panicked. The idea of being a father at 18? It was terrifying. I couldn't even take care of my own laundry. So I said the most immature thing a boy could say. I told her to get rid of it. That we weren't ready. That it would ruin our lives. She didn't argue. She didn't cry. She just took the money I scraped together and left. Three months of silence. Then she came back. Paler. Thinner. And she looked me in the eye and said the sentence that has chained me ever since: "The abortion went wrong, Ryan. The doctor said I can never have children again. I sacrificed my chance of being a mother for you." And that was it. Guilt. Heavy, permanent, suffocating guilt. It followed me from that tiny dorm room all the way to the penthouse. Now I'm 27. CEO of Ryden Tech. Billionaire. The kind of guy Forbes writes articles about. I have a private elevator, a driver, a company worth hundreds of millions. I can buy islands if I want. But I can't buy a clean conscience. Well... except when Ariana is around. God. Ariana. My world. My favorite distraction. The only human on earth who can make me forget that I'm supposed to be a cold, ruthless CEO. What I had with Bella was a fling. A serious college fling, but still a fling. What I have with Ariana is... everything. She's the lifetime subscription I never want to cancel. "Babbyyy," she whines, snapping me right out of my dark thoughts. She's curled up on the couch in my office. My very expensive, very glass-walled, very professional office where I am supposed to be closing a deal in ten minutes. And before I can answer, this silly, beautiful girl climbs right onto my lap. Right on top. Like it's her personal throne. "Yes, love?" I say, flashing her my signature grin. The cheesy one. The one my board members would laugh at, but the one that makes her blush every single time. "Ughhh, you're so naughty," she groans, giving me a tiny, wicked little wiggle that makes my brain completely shut down. I am a billionaire. I negotiate with investors. I fire people without blinking. But with her on my lap? I'm just a guy. A completely helpless, lovesick guy. "Babeee," I groan. It's not even a word anymore, it's a cry for help. "You know you can't just sit there and wiggle like that. This is a very... sensitive area. Highly restricted." "You're not possibly thinking of _that thing_ right?" she asks, laughing, trying to look innocent even though she is 100% guilty. I lean in, whisper in her ear like the hopeless romantic cheeseball I am. "My dearest, gorgeous, future Mrs. Ryden, mother of my future heirs who will inherit my terrible sense of humor — yes. I am thinking of _that thing_. Because you started _that thing_." Her eyes go wide. "Ryan!" "What? I'm just being honest! I'm a cheesy billionaire in love, what do you expect?" And then — this menace — she jumps off me and RUNS. She runs around my desk, giggling like she just committed a perfect crime. "Ariana! Get back here!" I shout, chasing her around my own office like an i***t. "You can't start a fire and run away! That's illegal! In at least five states!" "Then call the police, Mr. Cheesy Billionaire!" she yells, hiding behind my chair. "Tell them your girlfriend is too hot to handle!" I finally catch her around the waist and pull her against me. She's laughing so hard against my chest, breathless, her hair a mess. And in that second, I swear I would give her the company, the penthouse, the cars, everything. If she just keeps laughing like that. But then — _buzz buzz._ My phone vibrates on the desk. The private line. I glance over. One name on the screen. *Bella.* Ariana sees it too. Her laughter stops. Just like that. Her smile fades a little. And that heavy, old guilt? The one I've been carrying for three years? It sinks right back into my chest. Because as long as Bella holds that guilt over me, I can never fully be Ariana's. And I'm terrified that one day, Ariana will get tired of sharing me with a ghost. ---