When the Billionaire Regrets It, I’m Already Gone

Chapter 3 A Secret I Cannot Share

The office on the twelfth floor was always busy in the morning. The sound of keyboards, brief conversations between colleagues, and the scent of coffee drifting from the pantry filled the air. I sat at my desk, staring at the computer screen displaying a report I should have finished earlier. But my eyes weren’t really reading anything. My thoughts were still trapped in last night, in that dark room, in the silence that had been shattered by a name that wasn’t mine.

“Camille.”

I pressed the tip of my pen into my palm, trying to distract myself. It didn’t work. Lucas’s face tightened when he realized his mistake kept replaying in my mind, along with his low voice, unconsciously calling another woman’s name at the worst possible moment.

“Mrs. Alicia, the report for the eleven o’clock meeting has been sent to your email,” Edward, one of my staff, said as he placed a sheet of paper on the corner of my desk.

“Thank you, Ed,” I replied, my voice softer than I intended.

Edward glanced at me, hesitant. “Are you okay, ma’am? You look pale.”

“I’m fine.” I gave a faint smile. “Just didn’t sleep well.”

He nodded and walked away. I let out a long breath, forcing myself to look back at the laptop screen. But the letters blurred, and before I realized it, something warm slipped down my cheek. I blinked once, twice, only then realizing I was crying.

At the office. At my desk, in plain view of anyone passing by.

Quickly, I raised my hand, wiping the tears away before they spread. I lowered my head, pretending to read the document. My heart pounded wildly, not because I was afraid of being seen crying, but because I had just realized how exhausted I truly was. Three years of holding everything in, and apparently, there was a limit.

“Not here, Alicia. Not now.”

I took a deep breath. Once. Twice. Slowly, my vision began to steady. I straightened my back, opened the report, and forced myself to focus on the numbers waiting to be reviewed. For a few minutes, it worked.

Then the room began to spin.

The dizziness came suddenly, not the kind that fades when you close your eyes, but the kind that tilts the entire world. At the same time, a wave of nausea rose from my stomach to my throat, fast and uncontrollable. I tried to stand, to make my way to the restroom, but my legs refused to cooperate.

“Mrs. Alicia…!”

Edward’s voice was the last thing I heard before everything went dark.

When I began to regain consciousness, the first thing I noticed was the sterile, cold scent of a hospital room. A white ceiling. Harsh fluorescent lights. An IV needle in the back of my hand.

“Mrs. Alicia, thank goodness. You’re awake.”

Edward’s face came into view, his eyes slightly red, still carrying traces of panic. Two of my staff stood beside him.

“I fainted?” I asked softly.

“You fell from your chair. We brought you here right away.” Edward squeezed my hand briefly. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We tried calling your husband, but he didn’t answer.”

I closed my eyes for a moment. Didn’t answer. Of course.

“It’s okay,” I said quietly. “He’s probably in a meeting.”

“We didn’t know who else to contact, ma’am. Then Ms. Sophie called your phone, and we…”

“You told her?” I opened my eyes.

Edward nodded nervously. “I’m sorry if that was wrong, ma’am.”

I shook my head weakly. “No. You did the right thing.”

Less than twenty minutes later, hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor, and Sophie appeared at the doorway, her face filled with panic. Her red lipstick was still flawless, but her eyes betrayed her fear.

“Alicia, oh my God…” She rushed to my side, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay? What happened? They said you fainted.”

“I’m okay, Soph.” I tried to smile. “Just dizzy.”

“Just dizzy?” Sophie shot me a look. “You fell off your chair, Al. That’s not just dizziness.”

I didn’t have the chance to reply because the doctor walked in a middle-aged woman with a stethoscope around her neck and a calm smile. After examining me, she said I needed to see an obstetrician for further checks. At the word “obstetrician,” Sophie turned to look at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

I could only look back at her in silence.

Dr. Rosemary’s office felt warmer than the previous room. After a series of examinations, she finally sat across from me, her calm expression carrying news beneath it.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Alicia,” she said. “You’re pregnant. You’re about six weeks along.”

The world seemed to stop for a full second.

“Six weeks?” I repeated, my voice barely audible.

“Yes. That likely explains the dizziness and nausea of morning sickness. It’s very common in the first trimester.” She smiled gently. “But I recommend plenty of rest and avoiding stress. You and the baby are in good condition, but you need to take care.”

Beside me, Sophie squeezed my hand tightly. She didn’t say anything, but I could feel her holding back a lot.

I nodded slowly, thanking the doctor. Inside my chest, two opposing emotions swirled at once: an overwhelming warmth of sudden happiness, real and undeniable, and beneath it, a cold fear I couldn’t shake.

A baby.

There was a small life growing inside me.

I wanted to cry out of happiness. But then, a memory surfaced sharp and painful.

“Do you want children, Lucas?”

“No.” His answer back then had been flat, without hesitation. “I don’t want a child with a woman I don’t love.”

Those words had left me silent for hours. Now they returned, heavier than ever because now, a small life was at stake.

“Al.” Sophie’s voice was soft as we stepped out of the office. “Are you going to tell Lucas?”

I walked slowly, staring at the clean hospital corridor floor. Outside the window, the afternoon sky had begun to turn red.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

“It’s his child too, Al.”

“I know.” I stopped walking, staring ahead without really seeing anything. “But you know what he said, Soph. He doesn’t want this pregnancy. He doesn’t want me, let alone a child, from a woman he doesn’t love.”

Sophie didn’t reply. Because there was no right answer to that.

I placed my hand gently on my stomach, a small gesture, barely noticeable, but enough to make my eyes sting again. There, in its six weeks of existence that I had only just discovered, was someone who had already chosen me as their home.