Trapped In Her World

The marble floors of the blackwood industries penthouse shined under the city lights, cold and pure, Just like everything else in Nathel Blackwood's world.

Bella Delgado stood at the floor to ceiling windows, watching her husband reflection move behind her like a ghost she could never quite catch.

Three years of marriage. Three years of sleeping in separate beds. Three years of trying to bridge an ocean with teaspoon of hope.

“You're working late again.” She didn't turn around when she asked him, couldn't bear to see that familiar wall slam down behind his steel gray eyes.

“The Singapore deal won't close itself.” His voice carried that practiced distance, each word measured and deployed like a business strategy.

Bella's hand drifted to her still flat stomach. The pregnancy test lay hidden in her purse, two pink lines that had changed everything and nothing at all.

“When was the last time we had dinner together?”

“Bella.” The warning in his tone made her spine stiffen.

She spun around, designer heels clicking against marble. “Don't Bella me. I'm your wife, not your employee Nathel.”

Nathel didn't look her way rather he bent his face into his laptop, fingers flying across keys with mechanical precision. Dark hair fell across his forehead, the same hair she'd once tangled her fingers during their honeymoon, back when she'd foolishly believed she could crack the code to his heart.

“You knew what this marriage was when you signed the papers.”

The words hit like ice water. “A business arrangement. Yes, I remember.” She took a shaky breath. “But I also remember you promising to give your best to it.”

Now he looked up. Those gray eyes that had once made her weak now felt like her winter storms. “I am trying.”

“Trying to avoid me? Mission accomplished.”

“Don't be dramatic.”

The words hit like ice water. “Are you saying I'm dramatic now, you promise to put your best in our relationship.” She took a shaky breath. “But now you're'nt even willing to give our marriage a life.”

“Dramatic?” Her laugh came out sharp, bitter. “My husband hasn't touched me in months. We live like strangers. But God forbid I call it what it is.”

Nathel’s jaw tightened. He closed the laptop with a soft snap that somehow felt louder than a gunshot.

“What do you want from me exactly, Bella?”

‘Everything.’ The word stuck in her throat. She wanted his laughter. His secrets. The man shed glimpse in stolen moments before duty and obligation but guilt walls around him again.

Instead, she reached her purse with trembling fingers.

“I want you to look at this.”

The pregnancy test felt burning hot in her palm. She'd practiced this moment a hundred times in the mirror, but nothing had prepared her for the actual weight of it, the way her heart hammered against her ribs like a caged bird.

She placed it on his mahogany desk.

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Nathel stared at the test like it might explode.

“I'm pregnant.” Her voice cracked.

He stood slowly, movement controlled and predatory. When he looked at her, something cold and terrible flickered in his expression.

“How long have you known,”

“Three days but the doctor said it few months old.”

“Three days.” He repeated it like he was testing the weight of a lie. “And why are you telling, you should be telling him.”

“What did you mean.”

“What do I mean, Bella?” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Tell me, Bella. Whose is it?”

The question hit her like a physical blow. She stumbled backward, hand pressed to her chest.

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me.” He circled the desk, each step deliberate and menacing. “We haven't shared a bed in months. Haven't even kissed since Christmas. So I'll ask again, whose baby is it?”

“Yours.” The word came out strangled. ,”it's yours Nathel.”

“Don't lie to me.” His face was a mask of cold fury. “I know exactly how many times we've been together. I know because each time felt like a fucking obligation.”

Teared burned her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “Six months ago. Your birthday. You were drunk, and lonely, and for one night you let me in. Remember?”

Something flickered across his features, recognition, maybe even shame, but it vanished too quickly.

“One night. In years, one night and now you're conveniently pregnant?” He laughed, the sound cruel and cutting. “What kind of fool do you take me for?”

“The kind who might actually care about his wife. But I guess I'm mistaken.”

“Don't turn this around on me. I'm not the one playing games.,”

“Games?” Her voice rose to a shout.”I'm carrying your child!”

“Are you?” He leaned forward, close enough that she could smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating from his skin. “Or are you so desperate to keep your claws in the Blackwood fortune that you'd stoop to sleeping around and pinning it on me?”

The slap came before she could stop herself. Her palm cracked against his cheek, the sound echoing through the vast office like a thunderclap.

They stared at each other, both breathing hard. A red mark bloomed across his cheekbone.

“You son of a bitch.” Her voice shook with rage. “You think I wanted this? You think I planned to get pregnant by a man who treats me like I'm invisible?”

“Then why didn't you take precaution?”

“We did! We used protection!” The memory of that night rushed back, his rough hands, desperate kisses, the ways he'd whispered her name like a prayer. “But apparently even condoms can't contain your massive ego.”

Nathel's eyes narrowed. “Convenient excuse.”

“DNA test.” The words erupted from her throat. “We'll do a DNA test the moment this baby is born, and when it proves you're the father, I want a divorce.”

“Fine by me.” His voice was arctic. “But until then, you'll keep up appearances. The Blackwood name won't be dragged through scandal because of your indiscretions.”

“My indiscretions?” She grabbed her purse shaking with fury. “The only mistake I made was believing you were capable of human emotions.”

She stormed toward the door, then stopped with her hand on the handle.

“For the record, Nathel, I loved you. Really truly loved you. But that woman is dead now. You killed her.”

“Good.” His voice followed her like a blade. “Loving you was an item I misplaced after our marriage.”

The door slammed behind her with enough force to rattle the windows. Bella made it to the elevator before the tears came, hot and fast and full of three year's worth of pain.

Behind the desk, Nathel stared at the pregnancy test until the city light blurred. His cheek still stung from her slap, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest, an ache he'd spent years learning to ignore.

He picked up his phone with steady fingers, though his hand shook slightly as he dialed.

“Hey? I need you to run a background check on my wife. Full investigation. I want to know everywhere she's been, everyone she's talked to, for the last six months.”

He hung up and loosened his tie, the silk suddenly feeling like a noose.

One night. One perfect, terrible night when whiskey had stripped away his defenses and she'd looked at him like he was worth saving.

Now she was pregnant, and everything was about to fall apart.

The pregnancy test sat on his desk like an accusation, two pink lines that might just destroy everything he'd built

I'm or give him everything he'd never dared to want.

But Nathel Blackwood hadn't become a billionaire by taking chances in love.