The Billionaire’s Accidental Wife

Chapter 5: The Pregnancy Test

The press conference was in 3 hours.

I was standing in the penthouse kitchen at 6AM in Damien’s button-down shirt and nothing else, staring at a pregnancy test in my hand.

Two lines.

Pink. Clear. Unmistakable.

Positive.

My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped it.

"That’s not possible," I whispered to the empty room. "One night. One stupid night in Vegas."

But math was math.

6 weeks.

Right around the time we got married.

The bathroom door opened.

Damien froze in the doorway. Hair messy. Shirt half-buttoned. He looked like he’d been up all night too. Probably handling the press leak.

His eyes went to the stick in my hand. Then to my face. Then back to the stick.

The silence stretched for 10 years.

"Ava," he said finally. His voice was careful. Too careful. "What is that?"

I held it up. Like he couldn’t see. "It’s a pregnancy test."

"I can see that." He stepped in, closed the door behind him. "Is it..."

"Positive," I finished for him. My voice cracked. "It’s positive."

Damien ran a hand through his hair. The same gesture he did when he was stressed.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. We’ll figure this out."

"Figure what out?" I laughed, but it came out hysterical. "Damien, I’m pregnant. With your baby. We’re supposed to be getting divorced in 5 months and 3 weeks."

"I know the timeline," he snapped, then immediately softened. "Sorry. I’m just—"

"Processing?" I offered.

"Panicking," he admitted. He took the test from me gently and set it on the counter like it was made of glass.

Then he looked at me. Really looked. At my bare legs. At his shirt on me. At my face.

"You’re sure?"

"I took three," I said, pointing to the trash can. Two more sticks, both with two lines. "All positive."

He cursed under his breath in a language I didn’t know.

The press conference was in 3 hours.

---

An hour later we were in the car. Neither of us had said anything about the baby since the bathroom.

We’d both just... gotten ready. Like it wasn’t happening.

I wore the navy power suit again. He wore black.

Professional. Detached. Like we hadn’t just had our lives flipped upside down.

"So," I said, breaking the silence. "What’s the plan?"

"The plan," Damien said, staring out the window, "is we don’t tell anyone. Not yet."

"Right. Because that would make the merger look even worse."

"Exactly." He turned to me. "Ava. Look at me."

I did.

"This changes nothing about our agreement," he said. "6 months. Then we figure out custody. We’ll be civil. We’ll be good parents."

"Civil," I repeated. "Good parents."

"Yes."

He made it sound so easy. Like we were discussing a business contract instead of a baby.

But then his hand reached over and covered mine on the seat.

His thumb brushed over my knuckles. The same way he did in the boardroom.

"Are you okay?" he asked, quiet.

"No," I whispered. "Are you?"

"I don’t know," he said honestly. "But we’re in this together."

My heart did that stupid thing again.

---

The press room was packed.

Cameras. Reporters. Bright lights.

#DamienColeSecretWife was still trending.

We walked in together. Hand in hand.

Damien’s hand was warm and steady around mine. Mine was freezing and shaking.

"Mr. Cole! Is it true you got married in Vegas?"

"Mrs. Cole! How did you meet?"

"Was it a business arrangement?"

Damien squeezed my hand once. Then let go and stepped to the podium.

"Thank you all for coming," he said, voice calm and commanding. "My wife and I are happy to announce that we were married one year ago in a private ceremony."

One year ago. Not one night.

He was lying for us. For the baby.

I stepped up beside him. Smiled. The fake one I’d practiced in the mirror.

"We’re very happy," I said. My voice didn’t shake. Thank god. "And we ask for privacy as we navigate this new chapter."

New chapter. God.

The questions kept coming. About the merger. About Vivienne. About me.

Damien answered most of them. His arm came around my waist halfway through. Possessive. Protective.

Then one reporter, a woman with sharp eyes, stood up.

"Mrs. Cole, you look a little pale. Are you feeling alright?"

My blood froze.

Damien’s arm tightened around me.

"My wife is fine," he said quickly. "Thank you for your concern. That’s all the questions we have."

We walked out. Fast.

Back in the car, I broke.

"I can’t do this," I said, tears finally falling. "I can’t lie. I can’t pretend. I’m pregnant and scared and I don’t even know you!"

Damien pulled me into his arms.

Just like that. No hesitation.

"I know," he murmured into my hair. "I know. But we’re going to be okay. I promise."

I cried into his shirt. He didn’t let go.

Not until I stopped shaking.

---

That night, we sat on the couch. 3 feet apart. But not as far as before.

"I called a doctor," Damien said. "Discreet. She’ll come to the penthouse tomorrow for a checkup."

"Okay," I said.

"I also had legal draw up papers. For the baby. Custody, support, everything." He slid a folder across the coffee table. "I want you to have lawyers look at it. I don’t want you to feel trapped."

I opened it.

It was... generous. More than fair.

Primary custody to me. Unlimited access for him. Trust fund set up already.

"You did this in one day?"

"I don’t do anything halfway, Ava," he said. Then he looked at me. "Including this."

"This?"

"Us." The word hung in the air. "The baby. I’m not walking away from this."

I stared at him. The billionaire who married me by accident. Who defended me in a boardroom. Who held me when I cried.

"Damien," I whispered.

"Yeah?"

"What if we tried?"

He went completely still.

"Tried what?"

"Tried to make this real. For 6 months. For the baby."

For a long time, he didn’t answer.

Then he stood up. Walked to the window. Hands in his pockets.

"You deserve better than an accident, Ava."

"Maybe," I said, standing too. "But I don’t want better. I want you. Trying."

He turned around. The storm was back in his eyes.

"If we do this," he said slowly, "there’s no going back. Not after the baby comes."

"I know."

He crossed the room in 3 steps. Stopped in front of me.

"Ava."

"What?"

He reached up and brushed his thumb across my cheek, wiping away a tear I didn’t know was there.

"Okay," he said quietly. "We try."

My breath caught.

"For 6 months," he added. "We try. As a couple. For real."

I nodded. Couldn’t speak.

Then his phone buzzed.

He glanced at it and every muscle in his body went rigid.

"What?" I asked.

He turned the screen to me.

It was a photo.

Me. From tonight. Walking out of the press conference.

And my hand.

Resting on my stomach.

The caption underneath:

*"Is Damien Cole’s secret wife pregnant? #BillionaireBaby"*

The world knew.

Before we were even ready.

Damien looked at me. Guilt and fury in his eyes.

"I’m sorry," he said.

"Don’t be," I said, and for the first time since seeing those two pink lines, I wasn’t scared.

I reached out and took his hand. "We try. Remember?"

He laced our fingers together.

"We try," he agreed.

Outside, the city lights glittered.

Inside, my world had just changed forever.

And I had no idea what came next.