Rejected and Pregnant: The Billionaire’s Wife

Chapter 3

Evelin Brown

The bath couldn't wash away the pain corroding my soul. I'm completely shattered. My heart bleeds in a way that seems irreparable. Never, not even in my worst nightmares, did I imagine that my relationship with William would end like this, in such a cruel and irreversible way.

The moments we spent together still pass before my eyes. His touch, the warmth, the whispers... All the time I murmured that he was everything to me, that I wanted him, that I dreamed of building a future by his side. But now, I'm confronted with the harsh reality: I was just a passing fancy, a mistake by him.

And me? I was naive, blind, crazy in love. How could I have been so deluded?

Everyone around me had tried to warn me. My friend Katherine said she didn't trust William. Megan tried to open my eyes. Thomas, Julian, the aunts from the orphanage I helped, and even Lucas begged me to see the truth. But I closed my ears, clung to the illusion, as if the love I felt was enough for both of us.

Now, here I am, alone and utterly destroyed, with a life growing inside me and not knowing how to face those who always wanted to protect me.

My hands rest on my belly, searching for a strength I’m unsure I still possess.

Who did this to me? Who sent those photos? Who wanted to take away what was left of my happiness?

If this hadn't happened, would William still be here? Would I at least have had the chance to try to make him stay? But no. There was no time. Everything collapsed at once, without a single explanation.

Devastated...

Humiliated... Shattered... Rejected...

These words are the reflection of who I am now.

I take a deep breath, trying to gather strength that seems to escape me, and turn off the shower. The hot steam fogs up the mirror in front of me. I run my hand over the glass and see my reflection. A face I no longer recognize. Eyes red, swollen, empty, and dim. I try to hold back the tears, but they are stubborn, sliding down without permission.

I must be strong, for myself, for my baby.

My baby…

And then, the truth hits me like a sharp blade. I couldn't give him a father, a family. Just like I never had.

The pain spreads, like a chilling current dragging me into the past.

As I think about it, a memory strikes my mind like a lightning bolt.

The Orphanage.

I was seven years old, sitting in a small room, watching the social worker talk to a couple interested in adoption. They smiled, showing interest in other children, but their eyes always passed right over me. I was just another face in the crowd. Invisible. Forgotten.

I approached them in my faded blue dress, holding my rag doll already worn by time. I looked at the woman, hope in my eyes, my heart beating fast, silently begging for a chance.

"I like you. If you want to be my mommy, I'd love that." I murmured, anxious, as if those words could change my destiny.

The woman smiled, but it was a smile of pity. Of compassion. A smile I would learn to detest. In a few seconds, her attention was diverted to another child: a younger girl with golden curls, a pretty dress, rosy cheeks, and a vibrant look. It was always other children they chose. It was always someone better. More lovable.

I was rejected... yet again.

Years passed, and that scene repeated itself countless times. I was left behind. There were always more desired children. I learned to hide my pain. I learned to be strong. But the truth is that rejection took root in me, as a persistent shadow that would never leave me.

And now, after so many years, the cycle has repeated itself. My child was rejected by his own father, as I was so many times. And I, once again, was alone.

The emptiness within me spreads like poison, suffocating and cruel. As if fate was determined to remind me, over and over, that I am not worthy of love.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my thoughts. As I turn, I notice a set of sweatpants carefully folded on a marble bench near the huge bathtub. The bathroom is pure luxury. The floor is immaculate white marble, the counter has golden details, and the light fixtures hang elegantly from the ceiling, casting a soft and sophisticated light. Everything there screams exclusivity, wealth, a life that was never mine.

I pick up the clothes and put them on, feeling the soft fabric against my chilled skin. But the cold inside me, the one born from rejection, feels impossible to shake off.

"Evelin, are you okay?" Chris's voice comes from the other side of the door, followed by two gentle knocks.

I sigh, trying to stop my thoughts from spiraling into chaos, and respond: "I'm... just a minute." my voice comes out weak.

"It's okay, I made something for you to eat."

I close my eyes for a moment, feeling grateful for all that Chris is doing for me.

"Thank you!" I reply.

I leave the bathroom slowly, now more attentive to the apartment. The decor is impeccable. On the living room wall, I recognize famous paintings: The Kiss, by Gustav Klimt, with its vibrant and golden colors, and a reproduction of Starry Night, by Van Gogh. Things I've always researched, because I may not be rich, but I've always kept up with everything. One of my silly tactics is to always fit in and be perfect at everything.

Upon reaching the living room, I find Chris at the table. He has prepared a small meal for me: cookies, milk, hot chocolate, and tea, all arranged carefully. He is leaning back in the chair, wearing a white shirt that contrasts with his fair skin. His light eyes watch my movements, and he smiles softly when he sees me.

"Come eat. You must be hungry," he says, pulling out a chair with a gentle gesture. "Oh, I also bought some medicine for the nausea."

I widen my eyes in surprise, a slight smile forming on my lips.

"Chris, when did you go out to buy medicine?"

He smiles gently, a glint of affection in his eyes.

"I asked a friend to get it."

A soft laugh escapes my lips.

"Wow, you have great friends. I never imagined seeing you ask someone to do something like that, especially in a place like this," I comment, my eyes returning to observe Chris with a new perspective. I've known him for some time, and one of the things that impresses me most is his simple manner, so far removed from any luxury. I've never seen him be dazzled by anything. If I had to give him a title, it would undoubtedly be “the mysterious one,” because, no matter how hard I tried, I never knew anything about his life outside the club. Even when I asked, he always gave minimal answers, never fully opening up.

Chris gives a subtle smile, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and mystery.

"Let's say my group of friends is small, but very loyal."

"And rich," I add, letting out a sigh and letting my gaze wander around his friend's apartment.

He laughs softly, in such a gentle way that it warms my heart.

"Now, sit down. I'll get a glass of water for you to take the medicine."

Before he can move away, I hold his arm, feeling strangely as if I'm bothering him too much.

"No need. Just tell me where it is, and I'll get it. You've already helped me too much."

He shakes his head, smiling tenderly.

"Don't worry. Just try to eat something and get some rest. It'll be good for your baby."

He steps away before I can protest again. I sit down and look at the table in front of me. The food is a reminder of the hunger tightening inside me, especially after everything I vomited earlier.

Chris returns with a glass of water and gently takes the medicine out of its package, handing it to me. I look at him and automatically take the medicine.

"Thank you, Chris," I say in a near whisper, touched by his care.

"You're welcome, Eve. Are you feeling any calmer?" he asks, his voice full of concern, his eyes fixed on mine, as if trying to absorb every piece of pain I carried.

I take a deep breath, trying to find words for what was going on inside me.

"My mind is in chaos, you know? I'm still trying to absorb everything, this whole whirlwind."

He nods, as if he completely understands, and then says: "Don't worry, Eve. You have all the time in the world to process this. I know it's not easy."

My eyes fill with tears again, but I don't let them fall. I swallow it all, holding the pain. I take a deep breath and speak with determination, trying to convince myself.

"No, it's really not easy. But I'll get through it. I always do. Tomorrow, I'll be smiling. Believe me."

Chris gives a slight smile, his gaze deeply sincere, as he gently touches my hand.

"Evelin, once a friend told me something I never forgot: we shouldn't smile the day after the pain. On the contrary, we should feel it—feel every little bit of it as many times as necessary—because that's how we free ourselves. With each tear, with each pain, we become stronger and more resilient. So, if you need to feel and want to cry, don't worry. I'll be here, holding your hand, no matter how long it takes."

Chris's words touch my heart more deeply than I ever expected. At that moment, I can no longer hold back the tears. They begin to fall gently, carrying all the emotions I couldn't express. Before I can react, Chris envelops me in a tight hug, as if he wants to shield me from all the pain I'm feeling. He holds me with such care and dedication that my heart warms, as if his presence is the only thing that makes sense amidst the chaos.

As we slowly pull apart, our eyes meet, and I'm overwhelmed by the need to understand more. With a choked voice, I barely manage to whisper, "And you, Chris… how do you deal with all this? How do you handle your own pains?"

He looks at me with such tenderness, as if he could carry me through it all.

"For today, just cry. But know that, for every rainy day, there will be a sunny day. Not when we expect them, but they will come. And even when the path seems harder than we can bear, you will never be alone. There will always be someone to hold your hand. I include myself in that, Evelin. I will be here with you, in every tear, in every smile. You are stronger than you think. The pain will pass, and what will remain will be the strength and happiness you will find when you least expect it."

I feel the warmth of these words penetrating my heart, and for a moment, everything seems more bearable. I nod, feeling a calm I never knew existed in the midst of the storm.

I spent the entire afternoon with Chris in that apartment, nestled in his embrace on the couch. He held me at every moment, not leaving me alone for an instant. His presence, so caring and loving, brought unexpected relief, as if, for a few moments, the weight of everything that had happened dissipated.

At night, I sent a message to Lucas, saying I wasn't well, that the flu had worsened and I couldn't see anyone. He insisted on coming over, but I made excuses, as I wasn't ready to face someone who had warned me so much about William. Not at that moment.

I ended up spending the night at Chris's friend's apartment, beside him, and even though my pain was still there, I felt safe. As if, in the midst of chaos, something good was emerging.

The next morning, Chris took care of everything. He sent a message to Thomas, our boss, letting him know that neither he nor I could work. Thomas was worried, but Chris handled everything, lifting another burden I couldn't bear alone at that moment.

We stayed there together. And, as strange as it seemed, I knew he was right.

With each tear I shed, I felt myself becoming stronger. The pain was still alive inside me, but something new was also growing. Something that told me that when the tears finally dried, I would move forward.

My baby would be my world. He would be my strength.

No matter the rejections I suffered in childhood, the abandonment, the scars I carried. I would stand up again. The love I felt for my child would give me the strength to rebuild.

I would become a new woman.

A mother.

To be continued...