Pregnant And Leaving The Fake Amnesiac Billionaire

Julian froze for a fraction of a second.

A flicker of something crossed his face before it was smoothed over by that practiced mask of concern. He let out a soft, pitying sigh.

He stepped forward and rested a hand on my shoulder.

“You’re exhausted, Evelyn,” he said, his voice calm, therapeutic. “How could I fake this? The doctors said those memories might never come back. You’ve been under so much stress.”

He tilted his head, his words landing like carefully placed stones, walling me in.

“That little one you’re carrying… he’s the future of the Croft legacy. The only piece of the old me that survived. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect him. That’s a promise.”

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t look at that face anymore, that lie wearing the features I once adored.

“You should go,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m tired. I just want to rest.”

That’s when I heard her voice from across the hall.

“Julian?”

The door to the master suite opened, and there she stood.

Isabelle. Wrapped in my cashmere throw. The deep charcoal one I’d bought, the one Julian used to pull over us on cold nights while we watched the city lights from our bed.

She wasn’t even trying to be subtle.

“I can’t sleep,” she murmured, her voice was delicate. “My head is pounding. Can you come back? I need you to go over the quarterly projections with me… hearing your voice always calms me down.”

The air in the hallway turned sharp and cold.

Julian was caught between us. His pregnant, grieving fiancée and his other, business "partner" he was actually going to marry.

He gave me one last, unreadable look.

“Get some rest,” he told me softly, before turning to Isabelle and moving toward her without hesitation. He draped an arm around her, pulling the cashmere tighter around her shoulders.

She melted into his side as if she were born to be there. As if I were the intruder in my own home. They disappeared into the bedroom, and I stood there, staring at the closed door long after they were gone.

Not because I was in shock.

But because I was finally seeing things clearly.

…

I met Julian Croft three years ago. I was the lead architect on his new corporate headquarters. It was a gleaming skyscraper meant to scrape the sky.

I wasn’t supposed to catch the client’s eye. I wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a name on a blueprint.

But I did.

The moment his gaze met mine across a boardroom table, I knew my carefully structured world was about to be demolished.

He didn’t ask for my portfolio.

He asked what I dreamed of building.

And when I told him, he smiled like I’d just handed him the blueprint to the future.

He pursued me with the same relentless, strategic energy he used to build his empire.

Brilliant. Ambitious. All-consuming.

And I let him in. God help me, but I gave him the keys to everything.

A year later, he proposed on the unfinished top floor of that very skyscraper while the city glittered below us.

No audience. No fanfare. Just him.

He pulled out a ring, a sapphire gem set in platinum he’d designed himself.

“Evelyn,” he said, his voice low and fervent, “if this world is just code, I want you to be my anchor. My reality.”

And I said yes.

He once told me, hand on my stomach, “This baby came at the perfect time. He’s our proof. Our foundation. I’ve never been this certain of anything, my love.”

And now?

Now that same man faked amnesia and is planning on marrying another woman, leaving me in the ruins of the life he promised.

All for a merger and that woman.

I don’t even know when I truly lost him.

…

The next morning, a sharp knock came at my door.

“Evelyn,” his voice called out, efficient and detached. “Time for your appointment. Are you ready?”

I was still tying the laces on my sneakers, my hands shaking slightly, when I heard footsteps stop outside my door.

Then—

“Julian…” Her voice.

Isabelle.

Urgent. Sharp. I froze, listening as she met him in the hall.

“My father just called from Tokyo,” she said, her voice laced with fake panic. “The board is having second thoughts about the final vote. There’s a faction pushing back. We need to get on a conference call right now.”

There was a pause, a beat of calculated silence.

“Damn it,” Julian, my Julian, swore under his breath. “Fine. Get the lawyers on the line. I’ll be in the office in two minutes.”

His attention snapped away from me instantly, pulled by the gravity of the deal he’d sold his soul for.

From the crack in my door, I saw him run a hand through his hair, all thoughts of me or our baby had evaporated.

His focus was entirely on her and on the problem she presented.

He didn’t even knock again.

I stepped out into the hallway just as he was turning away. He glanced up, his expression momentarily startled before it hardened back into the CEO.

“Sorry, Evelyn,” he said, his tone all business. “Something’s come up with the merger. I can’t leave the house this morning.”

He pulled out his phone, already dialing. “You’ll still go to your appointment. I’m sending my driver and a security detail with you. The car is waiting out front, and the doctor is expecting you.”

Behind him, Isabelle leaned against the doorframe, not even bothering to hide the triumphant smirk on her lips.

She looked at me victoriously. My hand went to my stomach, my chest felt tight, but the tears that came to my eyes were hot with anger, not sorrow.

…

I sat alone on a bench in a private waiting room of the hospital’s Croft Wing, my fingers trembled as I stared at the black-and-white ultrasound photo.

There it was… a tiny, perfect flicker of a life.

“A strong, healthy heartbeat,” the doctor had said, smiling, pointing to the image.

My son.

I scrubbed at my eyes angrily, as if I could wipe away the last of my weakness. I couldn’t do this here. Not in this place.

Not under his name.

This was his territory. Cameras in every hallway. Staff who owed their loyalty to his corporation. Anything that happened here would get back to him.

I took out my phone and made a call to the driver waiting downstairs.

“I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed,” I lied, my voice steady. “I think I’ll just sit in the hospital’s garden for a little while. Alone. You go grab some coffee. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

The head of security hesitated, but my tone left no room for argument. They were trained to follow the orders of the woman carrying the Croft heir.

The moment I saw the black town car pull away from the entrance, I walked calmly out of the garden through a side gate, slipped into the anonymous city bustle, and hailed a taxi.

Destination? A small, independent clinic across town.

A place with no corporate ties. A place where a woman could disappear if she needed to.