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

Chapter 9

[Ava]

The gentle pitter-patter of rain against the windows filled the cozy living room of our apartment, creating a soothing backdrop to the quiet evening. I sat on the plush sofa, my legs tucked underneath me, watching Oliver as he meticulously colored in his favorite dinosaur coloring book. His little tongue poked out in concentration, a habit he'd had since he was a toddler that never failed to make my heart swell with love.

As I observed him, I couldn't help but see echoes of Ethan in every feature. The determined set of his jaw, the furrow of his brow as he focused on staying inside the lines – it was all so achingly familiar. How had I ever thought I could keep Oliver's parentage a secret? He was the spitting image of his father, right down to the dimple in his left cheek that appeared when he smiled.

"Mommy?" Oliver's voice broke through my reverie. "Can I ask you something?"

I set aside the book I'd been pretending to read, giving him my full attention. "Of course, sweetheart. What's on your mind?"

Oliver put down his crayon, his big brown eyes – Ethan's eyes – looking up at me with a seriousness that seemed beyond his five years. "Is Mr. Ethan my daddy?"

The question hit me like a physical blow, knocking the breath from my lungs. I'd known this moment would come eventually, but I'd foolishly hoped for more time. More time to figure out how to explain, more time to prepare myself for the hurt and confusion I was sure to see in my son's eyes.

"What... what makes you ask that, honey?" I managed to stammer, trying to buy myself a few precious seconds to think.

Oliver shrugged, picking up another crayon. "Tommy at school says everyone has a daddy. And Mr. Ethan looks like me. Plus, I heard you talking to Aunt Zara on the phone about him being at brunch tomorrow."

I closed my eyes briefly, cursing myself for not being more careful with my conversations. Of course Oliver had picked up on things – he was far too perceptive for his own good, another trait he'd inherited from Ethan.

"Oliver," I began, patting the spot next to me on the sofa. "Come here, baby. Let's talk."

He scrambled up beside me, his little face a mix of curiosity and apprehension. I wrapped an arm around him, drawing him close, as much for my own comfort as for his.

"You're right, sweetheart," I said softly, my heart pounding in my chest. "Mr. Ethan... he is your daddy."

Oliver's eyes widened, a myriad of emotions flashing across his face. "Really? But... why haven't I met him before? Doesn't he want to be my daddy?"

The innocent question was like a knife to my heart. How could I explain the complexities of adult relationships to a five-year-old? How could I tell him that his father's absence was my fault, that I'd kept them apart out of fear and hurt pride?

"Oh, honey," I murmured, pulling him closer. "Of course he wants to be your daddy. He... he just didn't know about you until very recently."

Oliver's brow furrowed in confusion. "How come he didn't know? Didn't you tell him?"

I took a deep breath, fighting back tears. "It's complicated, baby. Your daddy and I... we had some problems before you were born. We weren't together anymore, and I... I made a mistake. I should have told him about you, but I didn't."

"Why not?" Oliver asked, his voice small and uncertain.

I struggled to find the right words, to explain without burdening him with adult issues he couldn't possibly understand. "Sometimes, grown-ups make mistakes when they're hurt or scared. I was worried that your daddy might not want to be part of our lives, so I didn't tell him about you. But that was wrong of me. Everyone deserves to know their daddy, and every daddy deserves to know their child."

Oliver was quiet for a moment, processing this information. Then he looked up at me, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "Is that why you've been sad sometimes? Because you missed my daddy?"

His perceptiveness caught me off guard, bringing a fresh wave of guilt crashing over me. Had my own pain been so obvious that even my five-year-old had noticed?

"Oh, Oliver," I whispered, cupping his face in my hands. "I'm so sorry if I ever made you worry. Yes, there have been times when I've been sad about your daddy not being with us. But you, my sweet boy, you make me happier than I ever thought possible. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

He smiled then, a wobbly little grin that made my heart ache. "Even better than chocolate chip pancakes?"

I laughed, grateful for the moment of levity. "Even better than chocolate chip pancakes. You're better than all the pancakes in the world."

Oliver giggled, snuggling closer to me. We sat in silence for a few minutes, the steady rhythm of the rain outside providing a comforting backdrop.

"Mommy?" Oliver said eventually, his voice muffled against my shoulder.

"Yes, baby?"

"Is Mr. Ethan... I mean, is Daddy going to live with us now?"

The question caught me off guard, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Images of a life with Ethan flashed through my mind – family dinners, lazy Sunday mornings, the three of us curled up on the couch watching movies. It was a vision so achingly beautiful it made my chest hurt.

But then reality came crashing back. The hurt, the mistrust, the years of separation – could we really overcome all of that?

"No, sweetie," I said gently, running my fingers through his unruly curls. "Your daddy has his own home. But he wants to spend time with you and get to know you. That's why we're having brunch together tomorrow."

Oliver nodded, seemingly satisfied with this answer. Then he looked up at me, a mischievous glint in his eye that was pure Ethan. "Can we have chocolate chip pancakes at brunch?"

I laughed, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. "I think that can be arranged. Now, how about we finish coloring that T-Rex before bedtime?"

As Oliver climbed down from the sofa and returned to his coloring book, I found myself lost in thought once again. Tomorrow's brunch loomed before me, filled with possibilities both thrilling and terrifying. How would Ethan and Oliver interact? Would Ethan resent me for the years he'd lost? And perhaps most frighteningly of all, would seeing Ethan with our son rekindle feelings I'd thought long buried?

My phone buzzed, pulling me from my thoughts. A text from Ethan lit up the screen: "Looking forward to tomorrow. Sleep well, both of you."

I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the reply button. After a moment's hesitation, I typed out a response: "We're looking forward to it too. Goodnight, Ethan."

As I hit send, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of... something in my chest. Anticipation? Dread? Or perhaps a dangerous combination of both?

Whatever tomorrow might bring, one thing was certain – nothing would ever be the same again. For better or worse, Ethan was back in our lives. And as I watched Oliver happily coloring, blissfully unaware of the emotional storm brewing around him, I made a silent vow.

No matter what happened between Ethan and me, no matter how complicated things might get, I would always put Oliver first. He deserved nothing less than two parents who could work together, who could put aside their own hurt and anger for the sake of their child.

Even if it meant facing my own unresolved feelings for Ethan head-on.

"Mommy, look!" Oliver's excited voice broke through my thoughts. "I finished the T-Rex! Do you think Daddy will like it?"

I smiled, pushing aside my worries for the moment. "I'm sure he'll love it, sweetheart. Why don't we put it somewhere safe so you can show him tomorrow?"

As we carefully tucked the drawing away, I found myself filled with a strange mix of emotions – fear, hope, and a tiny spark of excitement for what the future might hold. Tomorrow would be the start of a new chapter in our lives.

I just hoped we were all ready for it.