My New Boss, My Babies' Secret Daddy

Olivia bolted for the bathroom for the fourth time that morning, her hand barely catching the edge of the sink before she collapsed to her knees in front of the toilet. The smell of cooking from the apartment next door was all it took to trigger another wave of nausea. Her face was pale, her hands trembling as cold sweat beaded on her forehead.

"This isn't normal anymore," she whispered to herself, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

This had been going on for days.

At first, she'd blamed it on a cold, stress, or maybe the insomnia that had plagued her since that night. But something in her body had shifted, and she could no longer deny it.

Without wasting another moment, she booked an appointment with an obstetrician for that very afternoon.

Sitting on the edge of the exam table, her legs dangling and her gaze fixed on a scuff mark on the floor, Olivia felt time itself freeze as the doctor returned, a sealed envelope in her hand.

"Congratulations, Olivia," the doctor said, her smile kind. "You're pregnant."

The world went still.

"What...?" was all she could manage.

Her voice emerged as a low, raspy whisper, as if it belonged to someone else. A ringing filled her ears as her mind scrambled to process the words.

It wasn't possible. It couldn't be.

But then the memory slammed into her with the force of a hammer.

The night two months earlier.

It had been raining, the way it almost always did in Miami.

After a vicious fight with Kingsley over the phone, she'd fled to her best friend Michelle's apartment, desperate for comfort. But what she found there scarred her forever.

The door was ajar. She pushed it open and heard the moans. Then she saw them. Together. In bed.

Kingsley and Michelle.

Her boyfriend. Her best friend.

The betrayal was so brutal, so absolute, that she couldn't even scream. She turned and ran. Aimless, unthinking, she just kept running until she found herself in some downtown bar-alone, disheveled, and trembling. Alcohol was her only company that night.

And the rest... was a blur.

She remembered the drinks, the dark eyes of a stranger. Then, the bed of a hotel room. Moans. The taste of desperation. And then... darkness.

She woke the next morning, naked between crisp, white hotel sheets. The room was empty.

Her body ached. Especially between her thighs.

There was no note. No name. Just an overwhelming silence and the lingering echo of a night she had never intended to have.

And now she was pregnant.

Olivia pushed herself off the exam table, her hands shaking. She didn't know who the father was. She didn't want to know. She knew only one thing for certain: she wasn't ready to be a mother. And she didn't want this baby.

But she didn't yet know that deciding it wouldn't be so easy.

This child wasn't a gift.

It wasn't an unexpected blessing or a sign from fate.

It was a humiliation. A living, breathing reminder of everything Olivia wanted to bury forever.

Every time she thought about it, the knot in her stomach tightened. She didn't want to see a stranger's features in her child's face. She didn't want to be reminded of the night she was so desperate to erase, of the betrayal that had sent her spiraling into the abyss. She didn't want a permanent link to the worst moment of her life.

How could she raise a child when all she felt for it was pure, undiluted rejection?

She drifted through the hospital corridors like a ghost, blind to the nurses' stares, the smiling mothers, and the cheerful maternity posters lining the walls. Everything seemed designed to mock her, to remind her that a life was growing inside her without her consent.

The doctor's words echoed in her head: "You're pregnant."

But it was her own inner voice that tortured her most: "This baby is your fault."

On the verge of collapse, she spun on her heel and marched back to the doctor's office. She flung the door open, her eyes red and her entire body trembling.

"Doctor..." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I... I don't want the baby."

The doctor, who was tidying some papers on her desk, turned slowly. Her professional smile froze.

She stared at Olivia with a mixture of surprise and judgment, as if she couldn't comprehend what she'd just heard.

"What?" she asked, though she had heard her perfectly well.

Olivia lowered her gaze but didn't step back. She took another step into the room, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the back of a chair for support.

"I don't want the baby," she repeated, her voice cracking as she choked back a sob.

Silence descended on the office again, heavy and suffocating. The doctor, a mature woman with a stern expression, slowly lowered the papers to her desk. She crossed her arms, her gaze sharp but not contemptuous.

"As a doctor, I am obligated to respect my patient's choice," she said finally. "But I must also advise you to seriously consider the consequences of this decision."

Her voice was steady, professional, but her eyes judged. Her expression held the familiar disappointment of her generation, wondering why young people today were so irresponsible, so quick to make impulsive decisions that would alter their lives forever.

Olivia met her gaze, swallowing hard. Tears still clung to her lashes, but something new had hardened in her eyes: determination.

"Doctor, I've thought it through." She took a deep, steadying breath. "My decision to terminate this pregnancy is final."

Her eyes were swollen from crying, but her gaze was unwavering.

The doctor gave a single, tight nod, her expression making her disapproval perfectly clear. Once the arrangements were made, Olivia was led to a procedure room.

She was alone, a thin paper gown doing little to cover her body, her heart hammering against her ribs.

For a moment, as she lay back on the cold table, her hands trembled.

Her gaze drifted down to her own abdomen. So flat, so unassuming... yet a life she had never asked for was growing inside.

"I'm sorry, little one," she whispered, a trembling hand stroking the thin gown over her stomach. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for any of this..."

Her words were swallowed by the icy silence of the procedure room.

The doctor was about to begin when a loud crash shattered the stillness.

The door flew open, kicked hard, and a group of men in sharp black suits stormed into the room. The air crackled with a sudden, suffocating tension.

The nurses screamed.

"Wh-what-who are you people?" the doctor stammered, stumbling back, her eyes wide with terror.

It all happened in a blur.

One of the men-tall, with a blank face and brutally efficient movements-headed straight for Olivia.

She barely had time to draw a breath to scream before a needle pricked the skin of her neck. She felt a cold burn spread through her veins, and then... nothing.

"Stop! This is a hospital!" a nurse shouted.

But her words were lost in the chaos. The last man to enter-clearly the leader-pulled a thick wad of cash from his inner jacket pocket. Without a word, he threw it at the doctor's feet.

"This woman was never here," he said, his voice laced with ice. "Understood?"

The bills hit the floor with a soft thud, scattering across the sterile tiles.

No one moved. No one protested.

And as the men in black vanished as quickly as they had appeared, carrying Olivia's unconscious form with them, a profound chill settled over the room.

No one there knew who she was.

But someone with immense power... clearly did.

Olivia's first thought was that this had to be a dream.

The white ceiling with its gold moldings, the impossibly soft mattress and silk sheets, the subtle fragrance drifting through the air... none of it felt real. She blinked several times, trying to piece together how she had gotten here.

But the moment she tried to move, a sharp jolt of pain in her arm served as a brutal reminder: this was no dream.

Then, the door opened.

"Are you awake, Ms. Jones?" A dry, polite male voice cut through the silence.

He was a middle-aged man, impeccably dressed in a suit and tie, carrying himself with an air of elegance. On a silver tray in his hands sat an assortment of exquisite dishes. He offered a polite, practiced smile when he saw her eyes were open.

"How do you know my name?" Olivia asked, her voice laced with suspicion as she struggled to sit up.

The man placed the tray on the bedside table.

"Because we've been waiting for you to wake," he replied calmly. "My name is Saul. I am Mr. Campbell's personal assistant. He sent me to look after you."

"Why did you bring me here? What is this place?" Olivia demanded, her eyes flashing with a mixture of confusion and rage.

The man sighed, a mask of faint regret settling over his features.

"Ms. Jones, what happened that night... was an accident. To be precise, they... sent the wrong woman into my employer's room."

Olivia stared at him, the words failing to connect.

"My employer had no intention of pursuing the matter," Saul continued. "However, no one anticipated that you would become pregnant. And now that you are carrying his child, he wants it."

The words struck her like a physical blow.

Olivia's heart hammered against her ribs, her breathing turning shallow and ragged.

"What?!" she gasped, disbelief warring with horror. "That... that horrible man? How could he do this? You tell him this is my child, and he has no right to it!"

"I understand your anger," Saul said, his composure unwavering. "But perhaps you should look at this before you make any decisions."

He carefully retrieved a phone from his jacket and placed it in front of her. Olivia recoiled, but a headline immediately snagged her gaze.

"Jones Group Suspected of Stock Manipulation; Share Price Plummets."

The color drained from her face.

"No..." she whispered, snatching the phone with trembling hands.

She devoured the article, her lips pressed into a thin, white line as her heart sank like a stone.

Her family's business was in ruins. Her father, who had poured his entire life into that company, was on the verge of losing everything.

She glared up at Saul, her eyes burning with fury.

"This was him, wasn't it?! He did this! He's a monster!"

"My employer does not wish to destroy anyone, Ms. Jones. He only wants what is rightfully his," Saul replied, his voice turning cold. "If you give birth to the child, not only will the Jones Group be saved, but you will also receive a generous compensation."

Olivia stared at him, speechless with rage. She gripped the phone so tightly she thought the screen might crack.

"I assume you wouldn't want to see your family go bankrupt," Saul added, producing a document from his briefcase.

He placed it on the bedside table, along with a pen.

Olivia's vision blurred with tears as she looked at it. She knew this wasn't a contract. It was a prison sentence.

She wrestled with the choice for what felt like an eternity.

Her dignity versus her family. Her freedom versus a baby she never wanted, a baby that was now the only thing that could save them.

Finally, with a choked sob that tore from her throat, she gritted her teeth.

"I'll sign."

A flicker of satisfaction crossed Saul's face, gone as quickly as it appeared.

He collected the signed document with crisp precision.

"Do not worry, Ms. Jones," he said, his tone unchanged. "After you deliver the child, my employer will honor his promise."

Eight months later

A flash of lightning illuminated the room, so bright it seemed to split the sky in two. Olivia woke with a gasp, drenched in a cold sweat.

The ensuing roar of thunder shook the very foundations of the mansion.

"Agh..." she groaned, her hands flying to her belly, now swollen and round.

A searing pain, sharper than anything she had ever imagined, ripped through her from the inside. Her entire body convulsed.

With every ounce of strength she had, she fumbled for the bedside table, desperately mashing the call button again and again.

But before anyone could answer...

The world went black.

...

"The baby's coming!"

The midwife's voice was a distant echo in Olivia's mind. She was barely aware of the chaos around her. Her body was a vessel of agony-trembling, sweating, and screaming with contractions that felt like they were tearing her apart.

"Come on, push, Ms. Jones! You're almost there!"

With the last shred of energy she possessed, Olivia gave a final, desperate heave.

Seconds later, a sharp, powerful cry sliced through the air.

The baby was born.

She wanted to open her eyes. She wanted to see her baby. She wanted to touch her baby. She wanted to say something, anything.

But she could barely lift her head. All she could see was the back of a nurse walking away, a small bundle wrapped in a blue blanket cradled in her arms.

They didn't even let her see him.

Tears streamed from her eyes. Before she could even form a protest, darkness closed in on her once more.

When she came to, she was in a quiet, sterile room. The pain hadn't vanished. A dull, burning ache throbbed deep inside her. Her fingers twisted in the blanket, still damp with sweat.

The door opened.

It was Saul.

He entered with the same expression he always wore: calm, distant, unshakable.

"Where is the baby?" Olivia asked, her voice weak and breathless.

"The child has been delivered to Mr. Campbell. It's a healthy boy," Saul stated bluntly.

He placed a thick envelope on the table beside her bed.

"This is the payment Mr. Campbell promised. Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Jones."

He turned to leave.

But in that instant, something inside Olivia snapped.

"No! You have to let me see my son!" she shrieked, her voice raw and broken.

She threw the blanket aside, scrambling clumsily to get out of bed.

Her legs gave out immediately. She collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud, her weakened body trembling with a mixture of effort and pure rage.

"He's my son, too! I don't care how! You can't just take him from me!"

But Saul didn't even pause.

"Please... let me see my son..." she begged, her voice dissolving into gut-wrenching sobs.

Silence was her only answer.

The door clicked shut behind him.

A few minutes later, a nurse entered with a tray of medication. She froze when she saw Olivia crumpled on the floor, her face ashen, her lips trembling, and a dark pool of blood spreading on the floor beneath her.

The tray clattered from her hands. "Oh my God!" The nurse rushed to her side. "Ms. Jones, you're bleeding!"

But as she knelt to help, her eyes widened in shock.

Her hands were slick with blood, but that wasn't all.

Olivia's belly was still swollen. Far more than it should have been.

"Dr. Miller!" the nurse screamed, stumbling back out of the room in a panic. "Get Dr. Miller! There's another baby inside her!"

Lying on the cold floor, Olivia barely registered the words. Her mind was a haze of fever and pain.

But before she lost consciousness completely, her lips formed a single, barely audible word.

"Another...?"

Five years later...

Miami International Airport.

Among the crowd spilling from the airport, one man stood apart, seemingly untouched by the noisy, hurried world around him.

Tall, with a lean but imposing build, he wore an immaculate black dress shirt and matching trousers. A pair of sunglasses shielded his eyes, his expression as cold as steel.

Edward Campbell strode forward, his presence alone enough to make people instinctively part ways for him.

He had just spent five days at a business summit in Asia. And while everything had gone according to plan, his mood was anything but good.

As if sensing his foul mood, his personal assistant, Saul, hurried over, luggage in tow.

"Sir, little Lucas hasn't eaten anything all day... Should we go back to the mansion first?" he asked cautiously, his tone careful as if he were treading on broken glass.

Edward stopped short, slowly turning his head toward his assistant.

"And you're only telling me this now?"

His voice was a low, grim rumble. Saul felt a chill shoot down his spine, and his legs began to tremble.

Everyone on the Campbell household staff knew that the young heir, Lucas, was Mr. Campbell's most precious treasure.

He'd raised the boy with a devotion that bordered on obsession, shielding him from the world. Even Edward himself softened when he spoke to the boy.

And now... he was on a "hunger strike."

"I-I'm sorry, sir... Since this trip was for important business, I was afraid of distracting you, so I didn't get in touch... I didn't expect little Lucas to refuse to eat all day..." Saul stammered, his voice trembling.

Edward removed his sunglasses with deliberate slowness.

His eyes, a pale green just moments before, darkened to the color of a stormy sea. It was as if a tempest were gathering behind them. The tension was so thick that nearby passengers instinctively faltered, sensing danger.

Saul paled. He was sure he had just lost his job... and possibly something more.

"When did I give you permission to make decisions on my behalf?" Edward's jaw clenched. "Hmm?" The sound was barely a word, more a low, threatening vibration. His voice, low and loaded with threat, was enough to make several people shrink back.

"I-I... I'm sorry..." Saul whispered, lowering his head.

At that moment, a small, foil-wrapped chocolate ball rolled through the crowd and stopped right in front of Edward's perfectly polished leather shoe.

He frowned, looking down, and then bent to pick it up.

The wrapper was metallic pink with tiny gold stars, clearly a child's candy.

Before he could straighten, a small, soft voice broke the tension.

"Mister! That's my chocolate!"

A little girl called out, running toward him with her dark curls bouncing at every step.

She looked to be four or five, small for her age but radiating a bright, fearless energy. She stopped in front of him, cheeks flushed from her run and eyes shining with curiosity.

Edward remained crouched, studying her closely.

The little girl tilted her head up to look at him.

And in that instant, something inside Edward stilled.

Those eyes.

Those green eyes, identical to his own.

Her eyes were large, round, and impossibly clear.

They shone like polished jade in the light, possessing an innocence so pure it seemed to belong to a world before cruelty was ever known.

Edward froze.

For a moment, he forgot the trembling assistant beside him, his luggage, the crowded airport, and his own pent-up rage.

The little girl, head tilted and dark curls tousled from her run, watched him with complete ease. There was no fear in her gaze. Only curiosity... and a disarming sweetness that sent a jolt through his chest.

It was the first time he had ever seen this child. He was completely sure of it.

And yet...

Why did he feel as if he already knew her?

"Sir," she said, her voice soft but clear as she held out a tiny hand, "you can't have that one. If you want chocolate, you have to get your own."

Edward blinked, still crouched, processing her words.

"I only have three," she continued with solemn, childish gravity, "so I can't share."

Her words were sweet, soft, and utterly innocent, yet they struck a chord deep inside him.

It was a feeling he didn't understand.

Something that had never happened to him before.

Edward, the coldest, most feared man in Miami, felt his expression soften, unable to stop it. A strange warmth spread through his chest, melting the icy armor around his heart as if her innocent words had found the one unguarded seam.

What was wrong with him? Why... did he feel this way?

"Do you like this brand of chocolate?" he asked, his voice unusually soft as he handed back the metallic-pink ball with its tiny gold stars.

The little girl nodded eagerly. Her eyes lit up even more, and when she smiled, she revealed two tiny canines that made her look like a mischievous little angel.

"Yes! I love it!" she exclaimed. "Do you like it, too?"

Edward was surprised to catch himself smiling.

His assistant, Saul, watching from a couple of steps behind, was utterly stunned.

Mr. Campbell... crouching?

Mr. Campbell... talking softly to a child who wasn't Lucas?

It was simply absurd.

Edward hated children. Except for Lucas, he had never gotten close to any other. He didn't even look at them. But now... he seemed hypnotized by this unknown little girl.

"Maybe I do..." Edward replied with an involuntary sigh, his gaze fixed on her face.

A strange sensation pulsed in his chest. It wasn't pain. It was something deeper... something that felt unsettlingly like a memory trying to surface.

The little girl's eyes... they were his own.

An exact match.

And that, in Edward's world, was an alarm.