I Accidentally Got Pregnant with a Billionaire

Chapter 20: An Unexpected Problem

Charles Osborne’s POV

The city was a frozen tableau of late December, with snow piling up on the sidewalks and Christmas lights casting a deceptive warmth over Manhattan’s frenetic energy. I stood in my office at Osborne Tower, the skyline a glittering reminder of the empire I’d built, but my focus was elsewhere—on Ariana, on the baby, on the toxic alliance between Naomie and Tony that threatened to unravel everything. It was New Year’s Eve, and Ariana was eight months pregnant now, her belly a prominent curve that made her look both radiant and vulnerable. The thought of her, alone in that Central Park apartment with Tony’s suffocating presence, gnawed at me, a constant ache that no amount of work could dull. I’d been trying to give her space since her tearful confession about loving the baby, since Tony’s hostile interruptions and Naomie’s calculated scheming had turned every interaction into a minefield. But space felt like surrender, and I wasn’t ready to give up—not on Ariana, not on our child, not on the possibility of something more. I’d texted her earlier to check in, and her response had been brief but encouraging: Feeling okay. Appointment tomorrow, 2 PM. You can come if you want. I’d jumped at the chance, confirming I’d be there, but as I stood in my office, the city humming below, a sense of foreboding settled over me. Something was coming, something I couldn’t predict or control, and it made my skin prickle with unease. The next day, I arrived at the private clinic on Park Avenue, the familiar leather chairs and soft music doing little to ease the tension in my chest. Ariana was already in the waiting room, her hands resting on her belly, her green eyes distant but soft. She looked up as I approached, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Charles,” she said, her voice quiet. “Thanks for coming.” “Wouldn’t miss it,” I said, taking the seat beside her. “How are you holding up?” She shrugged, her fingers tracing circles on her sweater. “Tired. The baby’s been kicking like crazy. I think it’s ready to make an entrance.” I smiled, trying to keep the mood light. “Sounds like it’s got your spirit.” She laughed, a soft, fleeting sound that warmed me despite the chill in the room. But before we could say more, the door opened, and Tony strode in, his leather jacket dusted with snow, his dark eyes narrowing as they landed on me. “Osborne,” he said, his tone clipped. “Always here, huh?” “Tony,” Ariana said, her voice weary but firm. “Not now.” He ignored her, dropping into the chair on her other side, his arm draping possessively over her shoulders. “Just making sure we’re all on the same page,” he said, his gaze locked on mine. “You’re here for the kid, not her. Right?” I clenched my jaw, swallowing the urge to snap back. “I’m here for both,” I said, my voice calm but edged with steel. “Ariana’s carrying my child. I’m not going anywhere.” The tension was palpable, a live wire crackling between us, but the nurse called Ariana’s name before it could escalate. We filed into the exam room, an awkward trio trailing behind Dr. Nguyen, who greeted us with her usual professional warmth. The ultrasound was routine, the screen flickering to life with the image of my child—tiny limbs, a strong heartbeat, a profile that was starting to look like a real person. Ariana’s face softened as she watched, her hand resting on her belly, and I felt a surge of love—for her, for the baby, for the life we could have if things were different. But Dr. Nguyen’s expression shifted as she moved the wand, her brow furrowing slightly. “Hold on,” she said, her voice calm but focused. “I need to check something.” My stomach dropped, the memory of the earlier scare—the anomaly that had turned out to be nothing—flooding back. “What’s wrong?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. Ariana’s eyes snapped to mine, wide with fear, and Tony’s arm tightened around her shoulders. Dr. Nguyen adjusted the wand, her eyes fixed on the screen. “The baby’s fine,” she said, her tone reassuring but cautious. “Heartbeat’s strong, growth is on track. But… there’s a slight concern with the placenta. It’s lower than we’d like, which could indicate placenta previa. It’s not uncommon, but it increases the risk of preterm labor.” “Preterm labor?” Ariana said, her voice trembling. “What does that mean?” Dr. Nguyen set the wand down, turning to face us. “It means we need to monitor you closely. There’s a chance the placenta will move as the pregnancy progresses, but if it doesn’t, we might need to consider bed rest or even an early delivery to avoid complications. For now, I’m ordering a detailed scan and some blood work to get a clearer picture.” Ariana’s hand tightened on her belly, her face pale. “Is the baby in danger?” “Not at the moment,” Dr. Nguyen said, her voice gentle. “But we’ll take every precaution. I’d recommend limiting physical activity and stress until we know more. We’ll schedule the scan for next week.” The room felt like it was closing in, the air thick with fear. I wanted to reach for Ariana, to tell her everything would be okay, but Tony was already there, his hand on hers, his voice low and soothing. “We’ve got this, Ari,” he said, shooting me a look that screamed back off. “I’ll take care of you.” I stood, my hands balled into fists, feeling useless in the face of this new threat. “What can I do?” I asked Dr. Nguyen, my voice steady despite the panic rising in my chest. “Just support Ariana,” she said. “Keep her stress levels down, make sure she rests. We’ll have more answers soon.” As we left the exam room, Ariana walked slowly, her hand still on her belly, her eyes distant. Tony kept pace beside her, his arm around her, his presence a wall between us. I followed, my mind racing. Preterm labor. Bed rest. Complications. The words echoed like a warning, a reminder that this pregnancy, already fraught with emotional turmoil, was now facing a physical threat. Outside, the snow was falling again, blanketing the city in a deceptive calm. Ariana stopped on the sidewalk, her breath visible in the cold air. “I’m scared, Charles,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can do this.” “You can,” I said, stepping closer, ignoring Tony’s glare. “You’re strong, Ariana. Stronger than anyone I know. And I’m here, every step of the way. Whatever you need.” Tony’s jaw tightened, and he pulled Ariana closer. “She’s got me, Osborne,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “You don’t need to play hero. I’ll make sure she’s taken care of.” Ariana didn’t respond, her eyes fixed on the ground, her hand still cradling her belly. I wanted to argue, to tell Tony he didn’t understand what she was going through, but the fear in her face stopped me. She didn’t need another fight—not now, not when she was grappling with this new uncertainty. “I’ll check in tomorrow,” I said, my voice soft but firm. “Call me if you need anything, Ariana. Anytime.” She nodded, her eyes meeting mine for a fleeting moment, and I saw a mix of gratitude and confusion there. Tony guided her toward a cab, his arm a possessive anchor, and I watched them go, the snow swallowing their figures as they disappeared into the city. I stood there, the cold seeping through my coat, my heart heavy with dread. Naomie and Tony’s alliance was a shadow, but this new medical threat was a tangible danger, one that could change everything. Ariana was already torn, her love for the baby warring with her commitment to Tony, and now this—placenta previa, preterm labor, a risk we hadn’t seen coming. My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out, expecting a work email or another demand from Naomie. It was a text from Ariana: Thanks for being there. I’m scared, but I’ll be okay. The message was a lifeline, a reminder that she hadn’t shut me out completely. I typed a quick reply—You’re not alone. I’m here, always.—and hit send, my resolve hardening. As I walked back to my car, the city’s lights blurred through the snow, I knew this was only the beginning of a new battle. Naomie and Tony were scheming, the baby’s health was at risk, and Ariana was caught in the middle, her heart and mine hanging in the balance. I didn’t know how this would end, but I knew one thing for sure: I wasn’t going to let her face this alone.