Chapter 1 Pregnancy

The world seemed to turn on its axis when I visited the gastroenterologist, expecting a straightforward remedy for my unsettled stomach. Instead, the doctor delivered a revelation that left me reeling.

"Miss Cathy Howard, you're pregnant," he announced.

Frozen in shock, I could barely move, my face contorting into a forced, bewildered smile after what felt like an eternity.

"Doc, are you certain? Is there any chance of a mistake?" I faltered, my voice a blend of disbelief and hope.

Perhaps accustomed to such disbelief, the doctor, unfazed, replied without a hint of doubt, "All your tests clearly indicate one thing-you're pregnant."

He continued, dispelling my confusion with clinical clarity, "The nausea and gagging that's been plaguing you? It's just morning sickness, unrelated to your digestive concerns."

As his words sank in, denial surged within me. "Impossible, how could I-how on earth could I be pregnant?"

Memories crashed over me like a tidal wave. The night flashed back-a whirl of intoxication and reckless abandon with Jaxton Saunders, our inhibitions drowned out by alcohol. In the haze that followed, the critical thought to take the morning-after pill had vanished, obliterated by the onslaught of urgent work commitments.

It was a single night, a fleeting lapse. How could it have led to this?

I left the hospital, the test results clutched in my trembling hands, my mind a storm of turmoil and incredulity.

I wasn't sure if I should tell him about the baby. I couldn't guess what he would say.

Jaxton was just a name to me, someone I'd met in a hazy, alcohol-fueled night at a bar six months ago.

Since then, we'd fallen into a pattern of casual encounters, nothing more substantial than fleeting moments of pleasure. All I really knew about him was his name and the fact that he hailed from a wealthy background. Beyond those scant details, he remained an enigma.

The thought of having a child with him seemed ludicrous.

Yet, considering my body's condition...

My thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of my phone from the depths of my bag.

Digging it out, I saw Jaxton's name flashing on the screen.

With a hesitant swipe, I answered the call, and his deep, smooth voice filled the air. "I'm at our usual spot," he stated simply.

"Now?" I asked, puzzled. A midday rendezvous was hardly our norm.

"I'll be out of town for a little while," he added, somewhat hastily.

With a heart full of hope and nerves, I recognized this moment as the golden opportunity to discuss the baby. "Okay," I agreed with a determined nod.

After hanging up, I pressed the accelerator hard and sped toward what we affectionately dubbed "the usual spot."

Standing at the threshold, I nervously toyed with my bag, rehearsing my planned speech, before finally mustering the courage to knock.

The door flung open, and there he stood-towering, elegantly dressed, with a charisma that was simply magnetic.

"Hey..." I stammered, my well-prepared words dissolving into thin air.

Before I could gather my thoughts, he seized my wrist with a swift tug and pulled me inside, his actions brisk and forceful.

Without a moment's pause, he maneuvered us both, his movements decisive, until we collapsed together onto the living room sofa.

Ordinarily, his assertive presence would sweep me off my feet.

His stunning features were mesmerizing, and his undeniable charm in the bedroom had been the hook since our first, hazy encounter-a reason strong enough to keep the flames of our sporadic encounters alive.

Yet, this time, I resisted, pushing against his chest firmly, sitting up straight, and clutching my shirt closed as I caught my breath. "Hold on a second..."

He paused momentarily, and then fixed a perplexed frown on me, clearly displeased by my sudden halt.

Normally, I epitomized the reckless, unrestrained spirit, so this abrupt shift likely baffled him.

After half a year of casual encounters, this was the inaugural moment his gaze bored into me with such intensity. It wasn't quite the murderous look one would have feared, yet it sent a shiver down my spine.

The uneasy scrutiny combining disdain and doubt was not to my liking, so I met his frosty demeanor and blurted out, "I'm pregnant."

I anticipated a flicker of astonishment, but instead, he responded with a snide, cold laugh that scraped at my patience.

That sparked a surge of anger in me, prompting me to shoot him a sharp, sidelong glare and retort, "Is this some kind of joke to you?"

"Cathy, I've always seen you as the cool, drama-free type," he remarked.

"What are you implying?" I challenged.

"We're both adults here-everything was fine, no commitments, just enjoyment," he answered. "But resorting to tricks and deceptions? That's low."

His face became as unyielding as stone, and his voice was devoid of any warmth.

Instantly grasping his insinuation, I fixed my gaze on his exasperatingly perfect visage, pausing momentarily before erupting into hearty laughter. "Mr. Saunders, you're drowning in your own paranoia. Yes, I'm pregnant-but when did I ever hint that you were the father?"

His response was swift, his eyes becoming thin slits of suspicion. "It had better not be mine," he snapped, tension vibrating in his tone. "And even if by some fluke it is, don't count on me to make any kind of commitment."

I laughed coldly, the sound sharp in the air. "Honestly, if I didn't know you had some money, I'd tell you to stop acting like someone important. Do you really think a woman like me-who has no reservations about casual flings, with a history longer than a drugstore receipt-cares one bit about your so-called commitment? Come on, Mr. Saunders, you're not naive; acting like you are just makes you look foolish."

Despite my harsh words, a strange pang of disappointment washed over me.

We were nothing more than casual flings-there was no room for sweet sentiments or expectations-yet, was it too much to ask for a normal conversation devoid of this nonsense?

"If that's the case, then let's just end this here. If you're going to play games, at least have the decency to follow the rules." Jaxton's expression hardened further as he leaned in, his movements deliberate. He reached for his suit jacket hanging on the coat hook, retrieved his wallet with a swift gesture, and flung a bank card toward me. "You've been entwined with me for months; I've had my share of fun. Consider this some allowance for the child."

The card felt piercingly cold, the impact against my cheek sharp-like a searing slap that resonated deep within.

A wave of humiliation engulfed me, and despite my resilience, a sharp pang of hurt resonated within my chest.

Rage simmered beneath my calm exterior, yet I couldn't suppress a bitter laugh. I picked up the card between my fingers, holding it aloft. "What's the limit on this?"

"Two hundred thousand," he replied curtly.

"Just two hundred thousand? And you toss it at me without a shred of shame?" I retorted with disdain. Directly in his view, I snapped the card in two and flung the pieces aside. Then I delved into my own bag, extracted a different card, and sauntered up to him. Slipping the card into his shirt collar, I flashed him a defiant smirk. "This one holds half a million. Consider it your 'service charges' for the past six months."

His eyes blazed with fury at that.

I maintained my composure, offering him a brilliantly insincere smile.

If he insisted on initiating a battle of shames, I was fully equipped to serve it back with interest.

Before he could muster up a defense, I nonchalantly tapped his chest and delivered my barb with a smirk. "Should finances ever tighten, remember my number-I've always appreciated your prowess behind closed doors. I'd gladly invest in that pleasure again."

Brushing past him with a dismissive flick of my wrist, I walked away with my head held high.

Once I entered the elevator, the facade crumbled. I leaned heavily against the cold metal wall, allowing myself a moment of weakness.

Humiliation of this magnitude hadn't scarred me in years.

I fought my way up from rock bottom-devouring textbooks in college, chasing certifications through sleepless nights, and embracing my career with a fervor that bordered on madness, all to get where I was.

This journey was about cleansing the deep-seated stains life had spitefully cast upon me.

I, Cathy Howard, had sworn to blaze so fiercely that the shadows of my past would dare not encroach upon my light again.

I aimed to turn the tables on every hater and doubter-those who once saw me as nothing more than filth would one day strain their necks in vain as they tried to catch a glimpse of my stratosphere.

Jaxton was nothing but a trivial fling, a blip not worthy of further thought.

Regarding the baby...