Pregnant by Two Secrets: My Ex and His Father

His hand wrapped around my wrist, firm and unyielding, but controlled, like he was afraid that if he applied even an ounce more force, he would snap something. Or someone. His silence was louder than any shout. Every step we took down the hallway felt like a countdown I couldn't stop. "Lucien..." I tried again, my voice cracking. "Please. It wasn't planned. I swear on everything I..." "Don't," he said quietly. Just one word. It cut through me. He pushed open the bedroom door and stepped aside, letting me stumble in first. The door shut behind us with a soft click that sounded final, like a verdict being passed. "Talk," he said, removing his cufflinks slowly, deliberately. "And don't lie to me. I want every detail. From the beginning." My legs gave out. I sank onto the edge of the bed, fingers clutching the fabric of my dress like it was the only thing holding me together. "I met Chase before I ever met you," I began, my voice barely above a whisper. "We were young. We were... serious. Three years. We promised each other everything." Lucien leaned against the dresser, arms crossed. His face was unreadable. "I got sick," I continued. "Really sick. Doctors said I needed a bone marrow transplant. I didn't even know where to start. And Chase..." My breath hitched. "Chase didn't hesitate. He offered himself immediately." Lucien's jaw tightened. "They told him the risks," I said, tears blurring my vision. "They warned him. He signed anyway. He said if it meant I would live, he didn't care what happened to him." My voice broke. "The surgery didn't go the way it was supposed to. He survived... but he never walked the same again. His body never recovered. His future..." I shook my head. "It changed everything." Lucien said nothing. "He proposed months later," I whispered. "Even after everything. He still wanted me. But I was scared. I was selfish. I couldn't imagine my life like that. I hated myself for it, but I was terrified." I wiped my cheeks with trembling hands. "The night before the wedding, I ran. I went to a club. I drank too much. I didn't want to think. I didn't want to feel." Lucien's eyes darkened, something sharp flickering behind them. "That was the night I met you," I said, my chest tightening. "I didn't know who you were. I didn't even remember your face the next morning. I just knew I had lost something I could never get back. And I panicked. I disappeared. I ran to another city." I looked up at him then, my eyes swollen and burning. "I didn't know he was your son," I whispered. "I swear I didn't." The silence stretched. Lucien stepped closer. "You belong to me now," he said finally, his voice low and deliberate. "Whatever you had with Chase is over." "But he's your son," I whispered. "I don't care." The words were cold. "From today," Lucien continued, "you sleep in my room. You don't go anywhere without my knowledge. And you don't speak to him unless I allow it." Fear wrapped around my spine. I nodded. What else could I do? The next morning felt unreal. Lucien called a meeting in the study. His lawyer arrived promptly, carrying a leather folder thick with documents. And then Chase walked in. My heart stopped. He looked tired. Older. His posture was stiff, controlled, like he had trained himself never to show weakness again. When his eyes met mine, something flickered. Shock, pain, disbelief, but he said nothing. Lucien didn't waste time. "Effective immediately," he said, "Ophelia will assume the position of co-CEO of Sinclair Empire." I gasped. Chase's head snapped up. "What?" I whispered. Lucien turned to Chase, his gaze sharp and punishing. "And you," he said coldly, "will serve as her personal secretary. I won't waste company funds hiring someone when you are unemployed and under my roof." The room went still. "This is your consequence," Lucien continued. "You ran from your responsibilities. Now you will watch her sit where you abandoned. You will assist her. You will answer to her." Chase's jaw tightened. His hands clenched slowly at his sides. "Yes, sir," he said finally. It sounded like defeat. Lucien left for a business trip the next morning. And that's when the real torment began. The Sinclair Empire building towered over the city like a monument to power. Walking in beside Chase felt surreal, like stepping into a life that should have been his. He remained professional. Polite. Distant. He handed me schedules, explained meetings, corrected mistakes without judgment. But there was a wall between us. Thick, unspoken, painful. By evening, guilt ate me alive. I couldn't breathe. I walked over to his desk, my hands shaking. "Chase," I whispered. He looked up instantly. "I'm sorry," I said, tears spilling before I could stop them. "I never wanted any of this. Please... forgive me." He stood slowly. "I already did," he said softly. The relief shattered me. He wiped my tears, his touch gentle, familiar. Too familiar. "I never stopped loving you," I admitted, my voice barely holding. Something broke. He pulled me into his arms. The world narrowed to warmth and longing and all the things we never healed from. Our lips met. It wasn't planned. It wasn't rational. It was inevitable. I left out a soft moan of desire. And then... The door slammed open. The sound echoed through the office like a gunshot. I froze. Chase went rigid. Slowly, I turned. Lucien stood there. His eyes took everything in. The way Chase's hands were still on me. The way my lips were swollen. The way I was breathing like I'd been running. For a long, terrifying moment, he said nothing. Then he smiled. And I knew.... This was only the beginning.