The Billionaire's Son: Pregnant with My Ex's Baby

Chapter 2

[Ethan]

The taste of scotch burned my throat as I stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office, the New York skyline a blur of lights and shadows. Five years had passed since that day, but the memory still cut like a freshly sharpened blade.

I loosened my tie, feeling suffocated by more than just the expensive fabric. The weight of the empty penthouse waiting for me at home pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. How had everything gone so wrong, so fast?

Closing my eyes, I let myself drift back to that fateful day. The day my world shattered like a champagne flute dropped from the top floor of the Blackwood Tower.

I had come home early, a rare occurrence in those days. The demands of expanding my hotel empire had consumed me, leaving little time for... well, for anything else. But that day, I'd felt an inexplicable urge to surprise Ava with lunch from her favorite Italian place.

The memory of her standing in our living room, looking like a deer caught in headlights, flashed before my eyes. God, she'd been beautiful. Even with her hair mussed and her eyes red-rimmed, she'd taken my breath away. How many times had I gotten lost in those emerald depths, feeling like the luckiest bastard alive?

"Ava?" I'd called out, confusion and concern warring within me as I took in her disheveled appearance. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

She'd taken a step back as I approached, and the small movement felt like a punch to the gut. When had my wife started flinching away from my touch?

"I... I wasn't expecting you home so early," she'd stammered, her voice trembling.

I'd held up the takeout bag, trying to inject some normalcy into the tense atmosphere. "I wrapped up my meetings early. Thought I'd surprise you with lunch."

For a moment, something flickered in Ava's eyes – a softness, a yearning that made my heart race. But then it was gone, replaced by a steely resolve that sent a chill down my spine.

"That's... that's very kind of you, Ethan," she'd said, her tone carefully neutral. "But I'm afraid I can't stay for lunch."

Confusion had given way to a creeping sense of dread. "What do you mean? Where are you going?"

The words that followed would haunt me for years to come.

"I'm leaving, Ethan. For good."

I'd felt the ground disappear from under my feet, my mind reeling as I tried to make sense of what she was saying. Leaving? How could she be leaving? We were Ethan and Ava Blackwood, the power couple of New York's elite. We had everything – success, wealth, each other. How could she walk away from all of that?

"Leaving?" I'd repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. "Ava, what are you talking about? We can work through whatever this is. Just talk to me, sweetheart."

The endearment had slipped out automatically, a habit born from years of intimacy. But Ava's reaction had been swift and cutting.

"Don't," she'd snapped, her eyes flashing with anger. "Don't call me that. Not anymore."

I'd reached for her then, desperate to bridge the chasm that had suddenly opened between us. My hands had found her shoulders, and even through the haze of panic and confusion, I'd registered the familiar spark that always ignited at her touch.

"Ava, please," I'd pleaded, searching her face for any sign of the woman I'd fallen in love with. "Whatever I've done, whatever you think I've done, we can fix this. I love you."

For a heartbeat, I'd seen a flicker of doubt in her eyes. Hope had surged through me, wild and desperate. But then she'd gently removed my hands from her shoulders, and I'd known with a bone-deep certainty that I was losing her.

"I'm sorry, Ethan," she'd said, her voice soft but resolute. "But it's too late for that."

The sight of her suitcase, hidden behind the couch, had been the final blow. This wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision. She'd planned this, prepared for it while I'd been obliviously going about my day.

"You can't be serious," I'd said, my voice breaking. "Ava, we took vows. For better or worse, remember? You can't just throw that away without even trying to work things out."

She'd paused at the door, her hand on the knob, and for a moment, I'd thought she might turn around. That she might give me one last chance to make things right.

"I did try, Ethan," she'd said softly, her back still turned to me. "For months, I tried. But I can't be the only one fighting for this marriage. And I won't be made a fool of any longer."

And then she was gone, the door closing behind her with a finality that echoed through the suddenly empty penthouse.

"Ava!" I'd called out, my voice raw with emotion. But it was too late. She was already gone.

I'd stood there for what felt like hours, staring at the closed door, willing it to open. Willing her to come back, to give me a chance to explain, to fix whatever had gone so terribly wrong between us.

But she didn't come back.

The sound of glass shattering pulled me back to the present. I looked down to find the tumbler of scotch in pieces at my feet, amber liquid seeping into the plush carpet. With a muttered curse, I bent to clean up the mess, welcoming the sting of broken glass against my skin. At least it was a distraction from the relentless ache in my chest.

As I straightened up, my eyes fell on the framed photo on my desk. Ava and me on our wedding day, her radiant smile outshining even the glittering New York skyline behind us. I picked it up, tracing the curve of her cheek with my thumb.

What had gone wrong? How had I not seen the signs? I'd been so caught up in expanding my empire, in proving to the world that Ethan Blackwood was a force to be reckoned with, that I'd neglected the one person who mattered most.

But even now, with the benefit of hindsight, I couldn't make sense of Ava's accusations. She'd said she wouldn't be made a fool of any longer. What the hell did that mean? I'd never been unfaithful, never even looked at another woman. Ava had been it for me from the moment we met.

A knock at the door interrupted my brooding. "Mr. Blackwood?" my assistant's voice called out tentatively. "Your 3 o'clock is here."

I set the photo down, straightening my tie and smoothing back my hair. "Send them in," I called back, my voice betraying none of the turmoil roiling inside me.

As I settled behind my desk, I pushed thoughts of Ava to the back of my mind. I had an empire to run, deals to close, competitors to crush. I couldn't afford to dwell on the past, no matter how much it still haunted me.

But even as I plastered on my most charming smile for the client entering my office, a part of me wondered if I'd ever truly be able to let Ava go. If there would ever come a day when the mere thought of her didn't make my heart ache with longing and regret.

Little did I know, fate had other plans in store for us. Plans that would bring Ava crashing back into my life in ways I could never have imagined.

As the client droned on about profit margins and expansion plans, my mind drifted once again to Ava. The way her eyes would light up when she laughed, the soft sighs she'd make when I kissed that spot just below her ear, the fierce determination in her voice when she talked about her dreams of starting a non-profit.

I'd give anything to go back to that day, to fight harder for us. To make her understand that whatever she thought I'd done, whatever doubts had crept into her heart, we could work through it together.

But time marched on, relentless and unforgiving. And all I could do was throw myself into my work, building an empire that felt increasingly hollow with each passing day.

As the meeting wrapped up and I shook hands with the client, a sudden thought struck me. What if I could find a way to reconnect with Ava? To show her that I'd changed, that I was ready to be the man she deserved?

No. I shook my head, banishing the foolish notion. Ava had made her choice. She'd walked away without a backward glance, leaving me to pick up the pieces of our shattered life together.

And yet... the idea lingered, a dangerous spark of hope that refused to be extinguished.

I turned back to the window, watching as the sun began to set over the city. Somewhere out there, Ava was living her life, probably having forgotten all about me. But I couldn't forget. I couldn't let go.

"Mr. Blackwood?" my assistant's voice crackled over the intercom. "There's a call for you on line one. It's about the charity gala next week."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I'll take it," I replied, reaching for the phone.

As I discussed the final details for the upcoming event, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change. That the carefully constructed walls I'd built around my heart were about to come crumbling down.

Little did I know just how right I was.