Pregnant For The Ruthless Billionaire

Rain slammed hard against the hospital windows. Lena Vance stood staring at the vending machine, watching the red numbers glow while her hands trembled. She had just two bucks left her entire bank account. "Miss Vance?" Lena jumped, spinning to face a stern doctor in a white coat. Dr. Evans looked down at her clipboard, her expression flat. "Yes, Dr. Evans? Is my mother all right?" Lena's voice came out raw. "Your mother is stable for now," Dr. Evans said, and somehow sounded tired rather than unkind. "But the board made their decision. Your mother's treatment costs five thousand a month. You're behind three months. If you don't pay in full by tomorrow morning, we'll have to take her off life support and send her to a hospice." It felt like her chest caved in. She could hardly breathe. "Please," she whispered, blinking away tears. "I'm working three jobs. I'm trying to get a student loan. Just give me another week." "I'm sorry, Lena. Tomorrow. Eight in the morning. That's the deadline." Lena left the hospital in a fog. The icy rain soaked her shoes all the way through, but she didn't care. She needed comfort. She needed Marcus. Marcus her boyfriend for two years. He lived like money was just air, drifting down from his family. He'd never offered to help with her mom's bills, but he was always her safe place. She could let herself fall apart with him. She let herself into his fancy apartment, using her spare key. Maybe she'd crawl into his arms and cry, or just sit and listen to his heartbeat for a while. But a muffled sound floated down the hallway from the bedroom. Lena's skin went cold. Her heart dropped clean out of her chest. "Oh, Marcus... faster," a voice panted. Lena stopped. That voice. Horribly familiar. Step by step, she made it to the bedroom. The door hung open a c***k. Clothes on the floor. A red dress Chloe's favorite dress. Chloe, her best friend since forever. Lena shoved the door open. Marcus and Chloe twisted away from each other in tangled sheets, frozen. Marcus went pale, Chloe scrambling for the blanket. "Lena!" Marcus yelped, tugging on his boxers. "It's, uh it's not what it looks like." "Not what it looks like?" Lena's laugh was ugly, stinging her throat. "Marcus, you're inside my best friend. On our anniversary." Chloe didn't flinch. She just stared at the wall and said, "You know, Lena, look at yourself. You're always crying and you never have time for him. He deserves a real girlfriend, not a sob story." "God, shut up, Chloe," Marcus snapped, but he didn't protest either. He didn't even look sorry. "Look, Lena. We were about to end things anyway. You're a mess. I can't do this anymore." She stared at them the two people she relied on, both gone in a blink. Everything her mom, her money, her boyfriend, her best friend it all collapsed at once. She felt hollow. "You deserve each other," she managed, her voice just a whisper. She left. Slammed the door behind her and bolted into the downpour. Two hours later, she was outside The Eclipse the city's fanciest club, lit up for some ridiculous charity event. Men in tuxedos and women dripping with diamonds swept past her while she huddled on the sidewalk, drenched and invisible. She wanted to disappear. She spotted a catering crew heading through a side door. Barely thinking, she clung to the edge of their group and slipped inside. It was too easy. Within minutes she had a glass of champagne in hand. Then another. And another. The alcohol helped. Made her chest loosen and her head float. By midnight, she was completely drunk. She left the pounding music behind and stumbled down a quiet hallway, then shoved open a big oak door. A private lounge, empty and low-lit. She collapsed onto a leather couch and broke down, head in her hands. "Who let you in here?" A man's voice cut through the silence. Deep, cold dangerous. Lena jerked upright. By the window stood a tall man in perfect silhouette, drink in hand. His features were sharp, almost arrogant. Silver-gray eyes fixed on her, and she felt them like a chill down her spine. "I... I'm sorry," Lena mumbled, trying to get up, but her knees folded underneath her. He crossed the room in a second and grabbed her before she could hit the ground. His grip was tight, burning even through her sweater. She looked up those eyes again, unblinking. "You're drunk," he said, eyes flicking to her lips. Something fierce and hungry stirred there. "I just want to forget," Lena whispered, her voice thick. "Just for one night. Let me forget." The man didn't ask her name. He barely seemed to consider. He just lifted her chin and kissed her hard, possessive, overwhelming. Lena clung to him, lost and aching, letting the pain turn to heat. For a little while, that was enough. That night, they made a mess of each other in the dark, the two of them tangled in silk sheets, hunger and hurt mixing until nothing else mattered. Lena woke to brutal sunlight. She was in a room so big it barely felt real. Silk sheets, unfamiliar furniture she was alone. The other side of the bed was cold. No note. No name. Nothing left but her shame. She dressed in silence and left before anyone could stop her. Three weeks later... Lena gripped a cheap plastic pregnancy test, numb. Two pink lines. She dropped it and covered her mouth, fighting back a scream. "No," she gasped, crumpling to the cold tile. "Not now. Please, not now." Pregnant. With a stranger's child. Her phone rang. She managed to answer it, voice barely steady. "Hello?" "Lena Vance? Good news! You've been chosen for the executive internship at Knight Industries. It comes with a generous stipend. You start at noon." Lena froze-Knight Industries could pay for her mother's bills. Hope slammed through her so hard she could barely breathe. Two hours later, Lena made it to the skyscraper lobby, nerves shot, hair still damp from the shower. She wore her best blouse. She was out of options. The HR manager led her through polished halls to an elevator, up to the 50th floor. "The CEO's strict. Don't speak unless spoken to, understand?" The doors swung open and she stepped inside. Damian Knight, terrifyingly handsome and dressed in charcoal gray, sat behind the biggest desk she'd ever seen. He signed something, slow and deliberate. "Sir, here's your new intern, Lena Vance." Damian capped his pen and set it down, then finally looked up. It was him. The man from the club. Those icy gray eyes, the face she'd tried so hard to block out. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. He recognized her. His lips curled in a cold, wicked smirk. "Well," Damian said, dragging his gaze over her, voice like shattered glass. "Look what the wind blew in."