The Billionaire's Secret Heir

CHAPTER 8: Eat... Or Break

The dining area was just as cold as the rest of the place.

Clean lines. Dark surfaces. Too perfect.

Like no one actually lived here.

“Sit,” he said.

I dropped into the chair without arguing this time.

I was too tired.

Too hungry.

Too… everything.

A plate was already there.

I hadn’t even seen him bring it.

“Did you—”

“Yes,” he quickly replied.

Of course he did.

I stared at the food for a second.

It was almost as if the food starred black at me, calling on me to eat it.

My stomach tightened again.

I picked up the fork.

Paused.

“What if I don’t?” I muttered.

“Then I’ll sit here until you do.”

I glanced up at him.

He wasn’t joking.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve heard that.”

I took a bite.

And immediately regretted waiting.

Because the moment the food hit my mouth—

My body reacted.

Hunger.

Real, sharp hunger.

I kept eating.

Faster now.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t comment.

Just… watched.

That should have bothered me.

It did.

A little.

But not enough to stop.

After a few minutes, I slowed down.

Silence stretched between us.

Then—

“Better?”

I nodded slightly.

“Thank you,” I said, quieter this time.

“You’re welcome.”

Another pause.

Then—

“Now we talk.”

Of course.

I leaned back slightly.

“About what?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he studied me.

And something about the way he looked at me—

Not cold.

Not distant.

But focused.

That made my chest tighten again.

“You’re keeping things from me,” he said.

I almost laughed.

“You’ve been stalking me and I’m the one keeping things from you?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Wow.”

“You haven’t seen a doctor.”

I froze.

“That’s none of your—”

“It is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You’re carrying my child.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do.”

“Stop saying that!”

“I will when you stop denying it.”

My hands clenched.

“I don’t need you to take over my life,” I snapped.

“I’m not taking over.”

“Well it certainly feels like it!”

“That’s because you’ve lost control.”

The words hit harder than anything else.

I went still.

“You don’t get to say that,” I whispered.

“I do when it’s true.”

My throat tightened.

“Everything you had is gone,” he continued, his voice steady, not cruel—but not gentle either. “Your marriage. Your home. Your family.”

“Stop.”

“You’re alone.”

“I said STOP.”

The word broke out of me again.

Silence slammed into the room.

Heavy.

My chest rose and fell rapidly.

“I’m not weak,” I said, my voice shaking. “I’m not some helpless person you need to fix.”

“I know.”

That… wasn’t what I expected.

“I know you’re not weak,” he repeated.

Then—

“Which is exactly why you’re still standing.”

My breath caught.

“You’re still here,” he added. “After everything that happened tonight.”

I looked away.

Because I didn’t want him to see that.

Didn’t want him to see the c***k.

“I didn’t have a choice,” I muttered.

“You always have a choice.”

“Yeah?” I looked back at him. “Then what are my options right now?”

A pause.

“Stay.”

“Or?”

“Walk out.” His response was quick.

“That’s it?”

“That’s enough.”

I let out a dry laugh.

“Stay with a man I barely know… or go back to having nothing.”

“Yes.”

“Those are terrible options.”

“They’re real ones.”

I stared at him.

“You’re not even trying to make this sound appealing.”

“I’m not here to convince you.”

“Then what are you doing?”

A pause.

“Waiting for you to be honest.”

My chest tightened again.

“I am being honest.”

“No,” he said calmly. “You’re surviving.”

The words hit deep.

Too deep.

Because he was right.

I wasn’t thinking clearly.

Wasn’t planning.

Wasn’t deciding.

I was just…

Reacting.

Trying to stay afloat.

“I don’t trust you,” I said quietly.

“I know.”

“And you don’t trust me.”

A small pause.

Then—

“No.”

That stung more than it should have.

“Good,” I said quickly. “Then we’re even.”

“We’re not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not the one lying.”

I clenched my jaw.

“I’m not lying.”

“You are.”

“I’m not!”

“You’re scared.”

The word cut through everything.

“I’m not scared,” I said immediately.

“Say it again.”

“I’m not—”

My voice faltered.

Damn it.

His eyes didn’t leave mine.

“Say it like you believe it.”

Silence.

Because I couldn’t.

Because I was.

Terrified.

Of him.

Of this situation.

Of what came next.

Of the fact that my life wasn’t mine anymore.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted finally.

The words came out small.

Broken.

Real.

And for the first time—

I didn’t try to hide it.

Something shifted in his expression again.

Not softer.

But… less sharp.

“Good,” he said.

I frowned.

“Good?”

“Yes.”

“How is that good?”

“Because now you’re not pretending.”

I stared at him.

“You’re impossible.”

“Maybe.”

Silence settled again.

But this time…

It wasn’t heavy.

Just… quiet.

“I’m not staying here long,” I said after a moment.

“We’ll see.”

“That’s not up to you.”

“It is if you don’t make a decision.”

I exhaled slowly.

“I need time.”

“You have tonight.”

“That’s not enough.”

“It’s what you have.”

Of course it was.

I pushed my plate away.

“I’m tired.”

“Go rest.”

I stood up slowly.

Then paused.

“Why are you really doing this?” I asked.

He didn’t answer immediately.

Then—

“I told you.”

“Responsibility.”

“Yes.”

I studied him for a second longer.

“You’re lying too,” I said quietly.

A pause.

Then—

“No.”

But something in his eyes…

Something small…

Told me otherwise.

I didn’t push it.

Not tonight.

I turned and walked back toward the hallway.

But this time…

I felt it stronger.

That pull.

That awareness.

That dangerous, quiet tension building between us.

Because this wasn’t simple.

It wasn’t just about a child.

And deep down…

We both knew it.

We just weren’t ready to say it yet.