Impregnated By The Billionaire

The glittering rays of the sun sneaked through the flimsy curtains and fell on the beautiful face of Noémie Rochester. Her closed eyes fluttered at the harsh intrusion while an uncomfortable sensation crawled up her stomach, making her wince and turn to the other side.

She rubbed her temples as a soft ache began to pound in her head, and a pungent smell of alcohol assaulted her nostrils.

Noémie tried to breathe through the thick, musky scent enveloping the air around her, but something felt oddly amiss. Something felt… wrong.

Not to mention, she was freezing. The air conditioning in the room had dropped the temperature far too low for her comfort, sending a shiver down her spine.

Tugging the warm sheets closer to her body, Noémie opened her eyes to the glaring sunlight. It took several blinks for her vision to adjust to the brightness, but once her eyes focused, she pulled herself into a sitting position and looked around, her gaze wandering carelessly at first.

The room was a disaster.

Clothes were scattered across the floor. A glass lay shattered in pieces. An empty bottle of rum sat ominously on the nightstand, and broken knick-knacks littered the carpet.

'What the heck happened here?' She thought, her forehead creasing with worry as she tried to piece together the events of the previous night.

One thing was certain—this wasn’t her room. But whose room was it?

The pounding in her head had grown violent, and the dull ache in her abdomen felt eerily similar to the cramps she usually experienced during her period. Yet the raw pain between her legs added a disturbing mystery she couldn’t ignore.

And then it hit her.

The memories came rushing back like a bolt of lightning, striking her with terrifying clarity: the coffee, the sudden drowsiness, the sensation of being carried, and the blurry image of a man moving over her body.

No.

“No. No, no, no, no, no!” she gasped, her eyes widening in sheer panic. Despite the soreness in her thighs, she scrambled out of bed—nearly tripping over the tangled sheets in her haste—and forced herself to confront the grim reality she’d been trying to avoid.

Her heart raced erratically as her breathing grew shallow and uneven. Panic coursed through her veins, rendering her limbs weak.

And then she saw him.

A naked man lay beside her on the bed, his arm draped over his eyes, his body partially covered by the white sheets. A deep frown marred his face—one that sent a chill straight to her panicked heart.

Noémie’s legs felt like they might give out, but she pushed through the fog of fear. The first thing she did was locate her clothes. After hastily dressing, she grabbed her heels and handbag. Without sparing him another glance, she fled the room.

She didn’t stop until she was out of the mansion, her bare feet pounding against the pavement as tears blurred her vision.

The mansion belonged to her boss, Mr. Halest. She had come here last night to deliver urgent files for his approval so she could mail them early in the morning. What had happened to those files, she didn’t know—and right now, she didn’t care.

Her chest heaved as she ran, the ache between her thighs a cruel reminder of what had transpired. The sunlight felt like needles on her skin, and the shame burned deeper with each passing second.

A car screeched to a stop in the driveway, narrowly avoiding her. She stumbled backward, her wide eyes meeting the driver’s furious glare.

“Noémie?” someone called from behind her, but she didn’t look back. She couldn’t.

She ran.

By the time she reached her apartment, her hands were trembling as she fumbled for her keys. Frustrated tears blurred her vision, but she managed to get inside. As soon as the door closed behind her, she slid down to the floor, pressing her back against the wood.

Only then did she allow herself to break down.

Hot, silent tears streamed down her face, soaking her shirt. Her chest ached with a grief so intense it felt like her heart might shatter.

How could he?

Her boss—the man she had admired and respected, the man she knew was grieving the loss of his wife and unborn child—how could he do this to her?

Disgust bubbled up inside her, threatening to consume her. She tore the clothes from her body as if they were infected, throwing them straight into the trash before stumbling into the shower.

The icy water cascaded over her trembling form, washing away the remnants of what he had done to her. But no amount of water could cleanse her tormented heart. No amount of scrubbing could erase the betrayal.

“I loved you, Mr. Halest,” she sobbed, collapsing onto the shower floor. Her voice cracked as the tears came harder. “And you ruined me.”