The Billionaire Thought I Aborted, Then He Met My Twins

The dream was always the same.

Avery was strapped to a metal table. The lights were blinding. Julian stood over her, wearing surgical scrubs, a scalpel in his hand.

"It's a mistake," he said, his voice echoing. "It has to go."

Scarlett was laughing in the corner, holding a jar. "Give it to me, Avery. Give it to me."

Avery woke up with a gasp, sitting bolt upright. Her nightgown was soaked with sweat.

The door to her bedroom opened. Julian stood there, silhouetted by the hall light.

"You were screaming," he said. He walked into the room, carrying a glass of water.

Avery scrambled backward, pressing herself against the headboard. "Don't come near me."

Julian stopped. He frowned. "It's water, Avery."

"I don't want it." Her chest was heaving.

He set the glass down on the nightstand with a sharp clack. He leaned over her, bracing his hands on the mattress. "What is wrong with you? You're paranoid. You're hysterical."

"I'm fine," she whispered.

"You're not fine," Julian said. "I called Dr. Halloway. He's coming tomorrow morning to do a full workup. Blood tests, everything."

Avery's blood ran cold. A blood test would reveal the pregnancy instantly.

"No," she said too quickly. "I just need sleep. I don't need a doctor."

"It wasn't a request," Julian said, straightening up. "You're representing this family. If you're sick, we fix it."

He turned and walked out.

Avery waited until she heard his door close down the hall. She grabbed her phone. Her fingers fumbled as she dialed.

"Hello?" A deep, sleepy voice answered.

"Sebastian," Avery breathed. "I need help."

There was a pause. Then the voice became alert. "Avery? What's wrong? Is it Julian?"

"I need a fake medical report," she whispered. "For the flu. Or exhaustion. Anything."

"Why?"

"Please. Just... don't ask."

She hung up, terrified Julian might be listening.

Downstairs, in the study, Julian was emptying the shredder bin. The maid had forgotten to do it, and he needed to destroy the merger documents he had been reviewing.

He pulled out the plastic bag full of paper strips. Something caught his eye. A cluster of strips that hadn't fallen properly, clinging to the blades. They were a different texture than his bond paper. Thinner. Medical grade.

He frowned. He reached in and pulled out a handful of confetti. He spread it on the desk.

It was a puzzle. A maddening, impossible puzzle. But one piece stood out.

...itive.

And another.

HCG.

Julian felt the air leave his lungs. He stared at the fragments.

Positive.

She was pregnant.

His first emotion wasn't joy. It was a dark, twisting fury. She knew. She had known, and she had shredded it. She was hiding it.

Why?

Because she didn't want it? Because she was planning to get rid of it?

He swept the papers off the desk. They fluttered to the floor like snow.