
Out of Pocket for Their Baby Years
Juniper Marlow · Completed · 6.4k Words
Introduction
Full recovery support after birth, someone checking in on meals, leave approved the moment you asked for it. I worked out a deal with the best facility in the city and covered the difference myself, out of my own account. Not a cent of company money.
I did it because I'd watched a good employee disappear from the company the year she got pregnant. No announcement. Her desk just cleared out one day.
Then one of them posted about it.
She called it surveillance. A golden cage. The comment section called me a predator. By morning it was trending.
Here's what none of them knew: not a single dollar of that program belonged to the company.
So I listened to what they wanted and gave them exactly that.
I shut the whole thing down.
Chapter 1
I spent two years quietly building something I thought was worth building.
Full recovery support after birth, someone checking in on meals, leave approved the moment you asked for it. I worked out a deal with the best facility in the city and covered the difference myself, out of my own account. Not a cent of company money.
I did it because I'd watched a good employee disappear from the company the year she got pregnant. No announcement. Her desk just cleared out one day.
Then one of them posted about it.
She called it surveillance. A golden cage. The comment section called me a predator. By morning it was trending.
Here's what none of them knew: not a single dollar of that program belonged to the company.
So I listened to what they wanted and gave them exactly that.
I shut the whole thing down.
The coordinator at the maternity center sent me a video at half past two.
"Sera, Ashley managed the whole diaper change herself today—baby didn't even cry. Look!"
I tapped play. Ashley was propped up against the headboard, newborn asleep against her chest, curtains half-drawn. She glanced at the camera and gave this small, slightly embarrassed smile.
I watched it twice before setting my phone down.
Building the program hadn't been complicated to justify. Third year running the company, I watched a senior analyst get quietly erased. She got pregnant, her projects got redistributed, and then her name just stopped appearing in the system. Nobody officially let her go. Nobody had to.
I wasn't in a position to stop it then. I told myself I'd fix that eventually.
When I had the leverage to actually do something, I did.
I used every personal connection I had to negotiate a partnership with the best postpartum center in the city. Their standard packages are expensive—I covered the gap myself, straight from my personal account, nothing to do with the company budget. Full recovery support after birth, help with breastfeeding, someone keeping track of meals. Maternity leave approved on request, no chain of approvals, no waiting. I personally signed every job security guarantee.
On top of that: time off for checkups, flexible scheduling, a parking spot near the elevator, a monthly meal stipend.
Three months running. Not a single complaint.
I thought we'd built something worth building.
Then my phone buzzed with a push notification.
We Built a "Golden Birthing Suite" for Pregnant Employees—But All I Want Is Out.
Posted by Petra Whitmore. Operations.
I opened it.
"Everyone says our CEO actually cares about women. What they don't see is how the whole thing works. The maternity center nurses come to your room every day—ostensibly to check in, ask how you're doing, whether you need anything from the office. And while they're there, they'll helpfully open your laptop. Get you set up. Keep you connected. She gave you leave. She just made sure you'd never really be gone. This isn't care. It's surveillance with a bow on it."
There was a screenshot attached—a video call interface, timestamp reading 11:54 PM. The caption below it: I just wanted to have my baby in peace. I didn't want to become someone's talking point.
I zoomed in on the interface. It wasn't our platform.
The daily nurse visits were standard routine, written into the paperwork every employee signed before moving in. The company had no remote work requirements during maternity leave—I'd personally added a line to the leave form so new moms didn't have to join non-essential calls.
I pressed my thumb against the edge of my phone case until it bent slightly.
The comments were already past three thousand.
Using "support" as a leash. Honestly more insidious than a mandatory overtime policy.
Corporate benefits are never free. The invoice just comes later.
The worst part is you're supposed to be grateful.
I read that last one twice. Then I put the phone down and told my assistant to bring Petra in.
She came with three people behind her.
I recognized one of them right away—Della Fenn, from the media team. Last month she'd been waiting outside my office, eyes red, voice barely holding together. Family emergency, she'd said. She needed money fast. I approved a month of paid leave on the spot and had finance advance her three months of salary before the week was out.
She was standing behind Petra now, staring at the floor.
Petra sat down across from me without being asked. The other three stayed standing, spread out at her back in a way that felt deliberate.
"Whitmore," I said, "that screenshot in your post. Whose software is that?"
She didn't answer. She turned her own phone to face me—the comment count ticking upward in real time.
"Sera, I think it's pretty obvious what people want. The center is fine. But none of that translates to anything in our hands. Convert the spend into a direct cash allowance and let us decide how to use it. That's what actually respecting our choices looks like."
"Our choices," I said.
"Yes. We should get to decide."
I looked at her. Thirty days in that center. Six weeks of recovery classes after that. She'd texted me a thank-you when she got home—said she didn't know how she would've gotten through it otherwise.
"The benefit structure was approved through the proper process," I said. "It doesn't get restructured because one person asks."
"One person?" She raised an eyebrow. "Sera, that post has thirty-eight thousand likes. Are you seriously still framing this as one person's problem?"
She stood up, pushed her chair back, and walked to the door. Paused with her hand on the frame.
"If you don't get in front of this, I can't guarantee it stays at a level you can manage tomorrow."
Last Chapters
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Then the truth came out.
Six months ago, Camille was finally brought back to the Laurent family. To protect the family reputation and prove their devotion to their bloodline, the Laurent patriarch transferred 35% of his personal shares into Camille’s name overnight, instantly making her one of the wealthiest heiresses in the country.
It brought anxiety to all the Laurent family. But what they don’t know…is that Camille never needed them.
Behind her elegant smile lies a woman filled with secrets powerful enough to shake the whole family. She's a miraculous healer capable of curing the incurable poisons.
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But while the Laurent family underestimates Camille, another man begins to see exactly who she is.
Dante Moretti.
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Only Camille can. Their deal is simple: she becomes his personal physician, and he gives her anything she wants.
My Billionaire Husband's Secret
He was the CEO of the Blackwood Group — a man whose wealth and power eclipsed ninety-nine percent of the world.
He was gentle. Romantic. Attentive. I fell for him fast.
But a year into our marriage, I began to notice something — a pattern.
Lucas's sexual appetite was intense — he wanted me almost every night. Yet every single month, he arranged a solo trip to send me away. I told myself it was his way of spoiling me.
Then a message arrived from someone called Sweet An.
Do you really know your husband?
From that day on, my life filled with shadows.
I suspected my husband of having an affair.
When Lucas and I made love, something felt wrong — his body too large, too much, like something I couldn't explain.
I heard sounds during sex — animal sounds, like something feral had crawled into bed with us.
My best friend Mia said: "There are men sick enough to let dogs fuck their wives."
The family doctor, Daisy, told me: "You could never stay by Lucas's side forever. Your background doesn't make you worthy of being his wife. Do you understand?"
I went looking for whoever had been tearing my marriage apart. I fought to win my husband back.
But the deeper I searched, the larger the secret grew — something far darker hiding beneath this supposed betrayal.
Does Lucas truly love me?
And why, out of everyone in the world, did he choose to marry me?
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She did not come to find out her father had promised her to another man.
As the only daughter of Shane “Rook” Rourke, president of the Lost Coast Renegades MC, Taryn has always known club business comes first. But when Rook signs a treaty with the dangerous president of Iron Mesa, he crosses a line even she never imagined.
Safe passage through Arizona territory comes with a price.
Her.
Kellan Stroud is thirty, powerful, ruthless, and already waiting at Sturgis to meet the woman he expects to marry.
Taryn wants no part of him, no part of the agreement, and definitely no part of a future chosen for her by two men who think a signature is enough to decide where she belongs.
Then she meets Bobby Fuentes.
At twenty, Bobby is one of the youngest fully patched members of the Sons of Doom MC. He is quiet until he has something to say, dangerous when he needs to be, and smart enough to get into places no one else can. Hacking is what he does best.
Until Taryn gives him a new problem to solve.
One reckless connection at Sturgis becomes something neither of them can ignore, and when Bobby realizes exactly what Rook has promised away, walking away stops being an option.
But stealing another president’s future wife is not a misunderstanding.
It is an insult.
A betrayal.
And in the MC world, it can mean war.
Taryn refuses to be anyone’s property.
Bobby has never been good at following rules.
And Kellan Stroud does not forgive what he believes belongs to him.
The road out of Sturgis may cost them everything first.
The CEO Above My Desk
“I know she does.”
“And what if she doesn’t want this kind of protection?”
“She will,” I say, my voice lowering slightly. “Because she needs a man who can give her the world.”
“And if the world burns?”
My hand tightens subtly at Violet’s waist.
“Then I’ll build her a new one,” I reply. “Even if I have to burn the old one down myself.”
I don’t work for Rowan Ashcroft.
I work beneath him.
From my desk, I decide who gets access to the most ruthless CEO in the city, and who never makes it past the lobby. I manage his time, his silence, his enemies. I keep his world running while my own quietly collapses under unpaid bills, a mother locked in rehab, and a brother who vanished without a goodbye.
Rowan Ashcroft is power wrapped in a tailored suit.
Cold. Untouchable. Merciless.
He doesn’t flirt. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t see people, only usefulness.
And for a long time, I was just useful.
Until he started watching.
A shift in his attention is subtle at first. A pause too long. A look that lingers. Orders that pull me closer instead of pushing me away. The man who stands above my desk begins to control more than my schedule, and I realize too late that being noticed by Rowan Ashcroft is far more dangerous than being ignored.
Because men like him don’t crave affection.
They crave possession.
This was supposed to be a job.
Not a test of my limits.
Not a slow, deliberate descent into his authority.
But if Rowan Ashcroft decides I belong under his desk, then so be it.
Survival has a price, and the bills don’t care how I pay them.
GO ON YOUR KNEES, ALPHA.
He was wrong.
Six years ago, Pete Leadsilver had everything an Alpha could want. Power, a respected pack and a future already written for him.
Then he met me.
What began as a game became a mistake I would spend years trying to survive. When I told him I was carrying his child, Pete chose not to believe me. He rejected me, humiliated me, and allowed the people around him to make sure I understood that there was no place for me in his world.
So I disappeared.
I took the secret of my pregnancy with me and built a life far away from the Alpha who had broken me.
Six years later, Pete finds me again. Only this time, he isn't the man with all the power. His pack is dying, his people are running out of time, and I may be the only person capable of saving them.
But I'm no longer the woman Pete remembers. And beside me is a little boy who carries far too much of Pete's face to be a coincidence.
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Old resentment turns into manipulation. Loyalty becomes betrayal. And the people Pete trusts begin hiding secrets that threaten to destroy everything he's built.
Then someone comes for the people I love.
Suddenly, this is no longer about whether Pete can earn my forgiveness.
It's about whether he can keep me alive.
Whether he can protect the son he never knew existed.
Whether he can uncover the truth before the people closest to him destroy everything he has finally learned to value.
Along the way, we'll lose people we thought would always stand beside us, I'll be forced to confront wounds I've spent six years trying to bury, and the family we're slowly building will be tested in ways neither of us could have imagined.
Because sometimes love isn't the hardest thing to find. Sometimes it's the hardest thing to survive.
Pete once believed power meant never needing anyone and I once believed surviving him meant leaving him behind.
We were both wrong.
Because some bonds refuse to die, some betrayals cut deeper than rejection and some people don't come back into your life to give you a second chance.
They come back to show you exactly what you almost lost.
Pete Leadsilver lost me once.
This time, he'll have to fight to keep the family he never knew he needed.
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Cast out by her pack. Forgotten by the Lycans.
She lived among humans—quiet, invisible, tucked away in a town no one looked at twice.
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Her body ignites. Her instincts scream. And something primal stirs beneath her skin—
summoning a big, bad Alpha who knows exactly how to quench her fire.
When he claims her, it’s ecstasy and ruin.
For the first time, she believes she’s been accepted.
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Chosen.
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