My boss got me pregnant (Spg)

The Deadline That Changed Everything

Edward’s POV

I’ve been in meetings all day board members demanding numbers, analysts babbling about projections, and new interns looking like they just graduated from kindergarten. If there's one thing I’ve mastered in this life, it’s the art of control.

But the minute I stepped out of the glass boardroom and saw a missed call from “Lolo A” three times I knew I was about to lose some of it.

“Edward.”

His voice echoed the moment I called back, calm but deliberate. That tone always calm, always calculated was the same one he used when he once bought an entire rival company just to prove a point.

“Lolo,” I greeted, loosening my tie as I entered my office.

“Did you already forget what I said the last time we talked?”

I blinked, sat down on the leather chair, and spun it to face the city skyline.

“No yachts, no buildings, no islands,” he continued. “Just one thing. A wife. And a great-grandchild before I turn sixty.”

My jaw tightened.

“You’re giving me a deadline to fall in love?” I said flatly.

He chuckled. “You can fall in love later. Right now, just find someone to build a future with. I know you your walls are too high. Lower them.”

A pause.

“Find someone who won’t cost you your soul to love.”

That stuck. Because in this world, love always came with a cost.

I ended the call minutes later, but the conversation lingered like a persistent ghost. I walked to the minibar and poured myself a drink, eyes catching the reflection on the tall office mirror.

I am thirty years old.

One of the world’s youngest billionaires.

And yet… one promise I couldn’t dodge.

A wife.

A child.

Before he turns sixty.

And I only have eleven months.

“Sir Edward?”

A knock snapped me back to the present. It was Ms. Mecca Castro, holding a folder, her gaze respectfully lowered. She's always like that professional, quiet, calculated. No flirting. No nonsense.

She entered when I motioned her in, her posture straight, her presence oddly calming. She placed the file on my desk.

“These are the reports you requested. The revisions are highlighted in red.”

I nodded, not looking at the folder but at her. There was a rare stillness about Mecca. An elegant silence.

No loud perfume. No flashy smile. No fake charm.

Just... her.

“Are you from Manila?” I asked, almost casually.

She blinked, taken aback by the non-work-related question. “Yes, sir.”

“Family?”

She hesitated. “My mom. And my younger sister.”

No mention of a boyfriend. No mention of a dramatic past.

For some reason, I felt my chest loosen.

She stood there, unaware that in my mind, a mental checklist was being formed.

Calm.

Smart.

No sabit.

No loud social history.

Doesn’t giggle at every boss who walks by.

Was I seriously evaluating her?

“You’ve been with us for how long?” I asked.

“Eight months,” she replied.

Eight quiet months, and I never really noticed her beyond her reports. Until today.

“You can go,” I said.

She nodded, turned, and left quietly.

And the second the door clicked shut, I exhaled slowly.

Mecca Castro.

I wasn’t sure yet what she was hiding, or if she was hiding anything at all.

But for the first time since my grandfather dropped that impossible request, someone didn’t feel like a complication.

She felt like…

A maybe.

I don’t like second-guessing myself.

But the moment Mecca Castro stepped out of my office, I found myself replaying every second of our conversation.

Her voice. Her mannerisms. The way she didn't rush to fill the silence.

Nakasanayan ko na ang mga babaeng hindi mapakali kapag tahimik pero si Mecca, tila kabaligtaran ng lahat ng nakilala ko. She didn’t flirt. She didn’t even try to impress. And that was what impressed me.

I sat back in my chair and stared at the ceiling.

I needed someone who wouldn't complicate things. Someone I could trust enough to carry the weight of my name, even just temporarily.

But most of all, I needed someone who would understand boundaries.

This wasn’t a proposal for love.

This was a business transaction, one cloaked in emotion, tradition, and the silent pressure of legacy.

And Mecca Castro…

Was beginning to make dangerous sense.

The next morning, I arrived at the office earlier than usual. The Stewart Group headquarters was still quiet too early for executives but not for staff like Mecca.

As expected, she was already at her desk on the 28th floor. Typing. Focused. Wearing that same simple blouse and slacks neat, clean, nothing distracting.

I paused. She didn’t notice me right away.

A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips before I erased it.

“Ms. Castro,” I said.

She immediately stood up. “Yes, Sir Edward?”

“My driver will pick you up tonight at 7 p.m.”

Her brows furrowed. “Sir?”

“Dinner.”

She blinked. “Is this… business-related?”

I let the silence stretch just long enough to see how she'd react. Her lips parted, eyes uncertain. She was clearly someone who didn’t mix work with after-hours just as I suspected.

I tilted my head. “Do you have prior commitments?”

She swallowed. “None, sir.”

“Good. Dress appropriately.”

And I left.

That evening, I was already seated at my private suite in one of the Stewart-owned hotels, a place that rarely hosted anyone other than VIPs, foreign partners, and government officials.

I didn’t want prying eyes.

This wasn’t just a date.

This was a test.

When Mecca arrived, escorted by my driver, she wore a navy blue dress not short, not loud, just enough to remind me again why I had chosen her.

“You look presentable,” I commented as she took her seat.

She didn’t smile.

Just nodded. “Thank you.”

The server arrived. I ordered for us both. She didn’t object. Another check mark.

“You must be wondering why you’re here.”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, sir.”

I took a sip of wine. Then placed the glass down and looked straight into her eyes.

“Tell me honestly, Mecca. Do you need money?”

That made her freeze. Her fingers tightened on her napkin.

“That depends. Why are you asking?”

She didn’t deny it outright. Interesting.

“Because I’m about to offer you something that might solve more problems than you currently have,” I said quietly. “But it comes with conditions.”

She leaned slightly back, guarded now. “What kind of conditions?”

“Marry me.”

Blunt. Direct. No sugarcoating.

Her breath hitched.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” I didn’t blink. “I need a wife. Temporarily. One year at most. There will be legal documents, boundaries, and compensation.”

She laughed under her breath. A bitter, stunned kind of laugh. “So you’re offering me a contract marriage?”

“It’s more than that.”

“Then explain.”

I did.

I told her about my grandfather’s wish. The promise. The looming deadline. The legacy on the line. And why, out of every woman in my sphere, she was the only one who made sense.

She didn’t say anything for a long time.

“Why me?” she asked finally.

“Because you’re clean,” I answered. “Because I trust you not to use this against me. Because you’re not loud, not messy, and most of all you have nothing to gain from hurting me.”

She stared at her wineglass for a long time.

“How much?”

I lifted my brow. “How much… what?”

“How much are you offering?”

I gave her the number. It was more than generous. Enough to build a new life.

She nodded once. Her eyes locked onto mine.

“Give me one night,” she said. “I’ll give you my answer tomorrow.”

And for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel in control.

She stood up and walked away with more power than anyone had ever held after a meeting with me.

It was past midnight when I finally settled in my study, a glass of whisky in hand, and a view of the glittering skyline of Makati framed through my floor-to-ceiling windows.

And yet, my mind was far from the business deals and acquisition reports scattered on my desk.

Mecca Castro.

That woman had taken up more space in my thoughts than I was comfortable admitting.

Hindi siya kagaya ng ibang babae na sinanay ng lipunan na kilalanin ang kapangyarihan ng isang tulad ko. She didn’t chase power. She didn’t even flinch at it.

The way she looked at me earlier as if she were evaluating me was both unnerving and oddly exhilarating.

I rarely left any deal hanging.

But tonight, I did.

I offered marriage. She didn’t accept, didn’t reject, just asked for one night.

And now, I’m the one waiting.

Which is a first.

I won't wait.

The next day, I arrived at the Stewart Group building at my usual hour. My entire team was on edge probably because they knew when I was tense, the entire floor suffered.

“Sir, the executive from Zurich is—”

“Reschedule.”

“Your grandfather’s assistant called again—”

“Later.”

I had one priority this morning.

My phone buzzed.

A message.

Unknown Number: I'm ready to talk. Rooftop garden. 8:30 a.m. Mecca.

Smart. She didn’t want to be overheard. Didn’t want to be seen. I admired that.

By 8:25, I was already walking toward the topmost floor of the building the hidden rooftop garden I had commissioned years ago.

Only a few people knew it existed.

She chose well.

And there she was. Standing near the railing, hair in a low ponytail, in a crisp white blouse and high-waisted black slacks.

Simple. Elegant. Professional.

She turned around slowly when she heard my footsteps.

“Mr. Stewart,” she greeted calmly.

“Ms. Castro,” I replied just as coolly. “So? Have you reached a decision?”

She nodded.

“I'll do it,” she said, voice steady.

A strange kind of tension unraveled in my chest. I hadn’t realized how much I was bracing for a no.

“Good,” I said. “We’ll arrange the legal contracts immediately—”

“I have conditions,” she cut in.

My brows lifted. “Of course you do.”

“No intimacy. No shared bedroom. And I continue working here under my current position. I don’t want favoritism.”

I couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped my throat. “Anything else?”

“One year only. After that, we walk away.”

I stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “And the money?”

“You'll transfer it to a joint account I’ll open with my mother. Half now, half after the divorce.”

I looked at her. This wasn’t desperation.

This was a negotiation.

And I respected it.

“You’re smart,” I told her.

“I have to be,” she said, her voice quieter this time. “You think I’d agree to this without weighing every risk?”

For a second, I thought I saw something flicker behind her eyes pain, maybe, or fear but it vanished just as quickly.

I offered my hand. “Then we have a deal.”

She looked at it for a long moment before placing her palm in mine.

“Deal,” she whispered.

The contract was finalized in three days.

A non-disclosure agreement.

A prenup.

A timeline.

Everything was as clean and clinical as I preferred. But no matter how airtight the arrangement seemed on paper, nothing about Mecca Castro was predictable.

The wedding was to be held in two weeks. Simple, private, no press. My grandfather would believe it was real and that was the point. To secure his approval before the board meeting that would determine the future of the Stewart legacy.

Mecca didn’t ask for a designer dress. She didn’t parade around the building like some corporate Cinderella.

Instead, she worked.

She stayed late. She handled documents. She took phone calls.

I watched her from my office window sometimes.

And I realized I wasn’t just watching for professionalism anymore.

I was watching for the way her mouth curled slightly when she solved a problem, how she would twist her pen when deep in thought, how her gaze never lingered too long but never ran away either.

She was composed. Mysterious.

And possibly…

The biggest distraction I’d ever allowed into my life.

Tahimik sa loob ng sasakyan habang tinatahak namin ang pauwi kong ruta. Nasa tabi ko ang ever-reliable driver, si Mang Tito. Sa likod ng tinted na bintana, tahimik ang mundo, pero sa loob ko kumukulo ang mga iniisip.

Mecca Castro.

That name had been echoing in my head all evening. Sa lahat ng posibilidad, sa dami ng babaeng kayang magdala ng apelyido ko sa mata ng publiko bakit siya?

She was a contradiction.

Matalino pero hindi palaban. Tahimik pero hindi mahiyain. Maganda pero hindi nagpapapansin. And now, she held something most people never did around me control.

One word from her tomorrow, and this entire plan will either begin… or collapse.

I wasn’t used to waiting. Hindi ako sanay sa hindi ako ang may last say.

And yet here I am. Willing to wait for her answer.

Damn it.

Kinabukasan, maaga akong pumasok. Mas maaga pa sa regular kong schedule. Wala pa masyadong tao sa 28th floor ng Stewart Group Headquarters, pero nandoon na siya.

Nakaupo. Nakayuko sa tablet. May hawak na black coffee sa kaliwang kamay habang mabilis ang mga daliri niya sa pagta-type.

“You’re early,” I said, approaching.

Tumingala siya. Walang kaba. Walang arte.

“You too,” she answered simply.

May sandaling katahimikan. She knew I was waiting. I knew she wouldn’t make it easy.

“You asked for one night,” I reminded her.

“And I used it wisely,” sagot niya. Tumayo siya, kinuha ang envelope mula sa drawer, at inabot sa akin.

I opened it. One page. Direct. Clean.

8

1. Walang physical intimacy. Unless mutually agreed.

2. Clear start and end date. One year only.

3. Separate personal life. Walang pakialam sa isa’t isa after office hours unless for public appearances.

Tiningnan ko siya. “You drafted this last night?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not afraid I’ll reject it?”

“Hindi naman ako ang nag-propose, Sir Edward.”

Touché.

“So… this means you’re saying yes?”

Huminga siya ng malalim. Tumango. “I’m saying yes, under my terms. At kung hindi kayo sang-ayon, hindi pa naman huli para maghanap kayo ng iba.”

Tinitigan ko siya. Cold. Calculated. But honest.

She wasn’t bluffing. She wasn’t chasing. She wasn’t impressed by the name Stewart.

She was just a woman making a decision for survival with her dignity still intact.

And for the first time, na-realize kong mas gusto ko ito kaysa sa babaeng ang sagot ay “yes” lang dahil may ₱10 million na kasama.

I folded the paper and returned it to her.

“Tell Legal we’ll finalize it today.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Mecca…”

She paused.

“Start preparing. We’ll announce the engagement by next week.”

“Copy.”

Simple. Direct. Walang drama. Pero habang naglalakad ako pabalik sa opisina ko, isang bagay lang ang naisip ko

This woman…

might just be the calm before the storm I didn’t see coming.

To be continued…