The Billionaire's Shattered Trust

"You killed him?" The voice echoed through the dark night, sharp and accusing.

Zane Campbell clutched the lifeless body, shaking it desperately. His voice broke with pain. "Don't die, please!" He begged, his heart pounding.

"Zane, you killed him," the voice came again, slicing through him like a knife. His scream tore through the night, raw, filled with unbearable grief.

"I didn't kill him! Help me! They killed him!" Zane pleaded, but the stranger just stood there, unmoved.

"You stabbed him! You shot him, Zane Campbell!" The words hit him like a punch, fueling his rage.

With a surge of fury, Zane stood to face the man. But his anger froze into fear when he saw the camera. The man clicked away, capturing every moment.

"What are you doing?" Zane's voice trembled.

"Collecting evidence. You killed him," the stranger's cold voice sent a chill down Zane's spine.

Sweat beaded on Zane's forehead. His whole body shook. "They killed him," he whispered, but before he could say more, footsteps thundered behind him.

He spun around. Police officers, their uniforms stark in the dim light, guns aimed at him.

"You're under arrest, Zane Campbell, for the murder of-"

"No! No!" Zane's agonized scream ripped through the night. He turned and ran.

"Get him! Find him! He murdered him!" The shouts chased after him.

Zane dove into the shadows beneath a tree, his breath ragged, his body trembling uncontrollably. Then, lights flooded the darkness, exposing every hiding place.

He looked down at his hands and shuddered. Blood. His fingers, his palms, everything was drenched in it.

His eyes dropped to his clothes. It wasn't left out, completely soaked in blood.

A wave of panic crashed over him. His chest tightened.

"He died... he died," Zane whispered, his voice breaking under the weight of his horror.

A massive screen lit up, displaying a chilling headline: Zane Campbell murdered Bob Campbell.

"No!! No!! Stop it!!" Zane's anguished scream echoed through the air.

Then, numbers flashed on the screen. 13567.

In a dimly lit room, Stan George thrashed violently in his sleep, his hands flailing. "No! Stop!" His voice cracked with terror as he jolted awake.

His heart pounded fiercely, his pulse a wild drumbeat against his skin. Sweat dripped down his forehead. His breath came in ragged gasps.

That dream. The same nightmare that had tormented him for two years.

Grabbing a pillow, he hugged it tightly, his body wracked with silent sobs. "When will this end?" he choked out, his voice heavy with despair.

And those numbers, 13567, seared into his mind. It had registered there for long.

He didn't know how long he lay there, trembling, tears soaking the fabric beneath him. But slowly, his heartbeat steadied, and his breath evened out.

His gaze shifted to the clock. 6:05 AM.

Swallowing his emotions, he forced himself out of bed. Straight to the bathroom and took a cold shower. He dressed up, ready to leave for work.

Because every time the dream came back, there was only one way to bury it. Work.

Sliding into his car, he gripped the wheel and stepped on the accelerator. But before he could push the memories down, an image flared in his mind.

A speeding car.

A bloodstained phone clutched in his shaking hands.

Not his blood. His. That man's.

Stan's fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his breath ragged. The past he thought he had buried surged back, raw and merciless.

"Fuck you all!" His roar ripped through the car as he slammed his fist against the wheel.

His face twisted in agony. Pain. Grief. A storm raging inside him. His body trembled violently.

Why was the dream back? Why now?

He pressed harder on the accelerator, the car racing forward, the wind slapping against his skin.

But no matter how fast he drove, the memories stayed. They refused to vanish.

Blood. Blood everywhere.

The knife plunged deep into his stomach.

The bullet tore through his chest.

"No!! Stop it!!" His emotions crashed into him like a violent storm, threatening to drown him.

As he swerved into the parking lot of his office, he slammed the brakes hard. His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Get it off! Get it off!" He squeezed his eyes shut, his voice barely more than a desperate whisper.

Minutes passed. His breathing slowed, his trembling hands loosening their grip on the wheel.

With a deep inhale, he adjusted the rearview mirror and stared at his reflection. His face was pale, his eyes dark with exhaustion.

"Stan George," he murmured. A hollow chuckle escaped him. It was empty, bitter, then faded into silence.

"This isn't you."

Shoving the mirror away, he grabbed his suitcase and stepped out of the car.

As he approached the entrance, his eyes landed on the bold inscription above-Zathcore AutoTech.

He let out a quiet sigh before walking in, his movements mechanical, like a man going through the motions.

The moment he reached his office, he slumped onto the sofa. His fingers hovered over his phone, then hesitated.

There was no point in calling. If there was news, they would tell him.

But still... he needed to talk to someone.

With urgency, he dialed another number. The phone barely rang once before a familiar, excited voice answered.

"Love!" Her voice rang with joy, instantly softening his tense features. His lips curled into a smile.

"Baby. Hope you slept well?" His voice, usually laced with tension, now held warmth.

"Yeah! I'm on my way to work," she replied cheerfully.

He heard the faint sound of a door shutting. She was stepping out of the house

"I miss you," he whispered, still smiling.

"Weekend will be here soon, and I'll see you," she said, her voice tender.

"Call me when you get to work. I love you," he murmured.

"Definitely. I love you more," she assured him.

As he slowly disconnected the call, he gazed at his phone, his smile lingering. In the midst of his chaos, he had found her. She had become his anchor, his companion, his friend, his lover.

For the first time that morning, the weight in his chest felt lighter. He felt alive.

With a newfound energy, he ordered breakfast and buried himself in work. The hours blurred together, the day slipping by faster than usual.

When he finally glanced at his watch, it was well past closing time. Stretching his stiff limbs, he straightened his suit and carefully tucked important documents into his briefcase.

Just as he was about to leave, his phone beeped. It was a message notification. He tapped the message to open it.

"Love, I think I might be pregnant."

The words struck like a lightning bolt. His expression darkened instantly. His jaw clenched. Veins bulged on his forehead as his breathing grew harsh.

"How could you!" he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous growl. A storm of fury swirled inside him, suffocating the peace he had felt just moments ago.

Without another thought, he grabbed his briefcase and stormed out of the office.

He didn't need a child? Not now.

An hour later...

The room was a disaster. The center table was shoved aside, side stools scattered from their usual spots, a handbag lay abandoned on the cold tiles, and sofa pillows were strewn across the floor.

The air in the sitting room was icy, yet suffocating.

Vera Wells sat on the sofa, her head bowed, tears brimming in her eyes. Her hands were clenched into fists, her veins standing out against her pale skin.

"This is deliberate! I trusted you! I thought you weren't like those selfish women!" Stan George's furious voice thundered through the room as he paced back and forth, his rage vibrating in every step.

His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw locked tight. His chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath filled with barely restrained fury.

"I don't want a child! Is that so hard to understand?!" He roared, punching the air in frustration.

His hands raked through his hair before he spun toward Vera, his movements sharp, aggressive.

"I took you to a good doctor! I made sure you were on the best birth control!" His voice was raw with frustration. "I even protected myself-every single time-just to avoid this!"

His shaking finger jabbed toward her belly, his raging eyes piercing through her.

Vera's body went rigid. He was too close. She could feel the heat of his anger pressing against her, scorching her skin. The fury in his gaze wrapped around her like a suffocating noose. Her whole body trembled violently.

What if he hit her?

She was alone. No one to help her if Stan lost control.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible, fragile.

But her words didn't reach him. His fury had deafened him.

"The test might be negative," she added, her voice trembling, desperate.

Stan let out a bone-chilling chuckle, dark and hollow.

"Who do you think you're fooling?" he growled.

His fists clenched. His eyes slammed shut as he fought for control. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his breaths uneven, his rage an unbearable storm inside him.

After a moment, Stan's eyes snapped open, burning with unrelenting fury. "You will not have this child! Never!" he declared, his voice raw with anger. Then, with a heavy sigh, he collapsed onto the sofa, his entire body trembling with rage.

"Get in there. Take the damn test. I'll be waiting." His order cut through the silence like a blade.

Vera stared at him in disbelief. He actually wanted to wait for the test result?

"Stan, you don't have to-"

"Get up! Now!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the room as he shot up from the sofa.

Vera flinched.

"I'll watch you do it," he added, his tone final, leaving no room for argument.

Vera's breath hitched, her body going rigid. "You... you can't be serious."

"Get up!" His voice sent a violent tremor through her, her legs moving before her mind could even process it.

Heart pounding, she snatched her bag from the floor and made her way to the restroom. But when she tried to close the door behind her, his hand shot out, gripping it firmly.

"I said I'll watch you." His voice was like ice. "I won't have my child born in secrecy."

Vera's eyes widened in horror. He was going to stay inside while she peed?

"I... I need privacy," she whispered, her voice unsteady.

Stan scoffed, his red-rimmed eyes locking onto hers. "Privacy? What part of you haven't I already seen?"

Her throat went dry.

"Hurry up. I don't have all day." He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

Under his unrelenting gaze, Vera's hands trembled as she took the test. Seconds felt like hours as they watched, waiting. Then, finally, a single line appeared.

Negative.

Tears burned in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away.

Stan's gaze flickered toward the sink, where the test sat. Without a word, he reached into his suit pocket and pulled out two more pregnancy tests, dropping them in front of her with a sharp thud.

"Use these." His voice was cold, distrustful.

Vera's heart sank. He had come prepared. He thought she would lie to him.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she repeated the test. The results didn't change. Negative.

Stan exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching. "You're lucky," he spat before storming out of the bathroom.

He didn't stop there. He marched straight to the door, yanking it open so forcefully that the sound echoed through the room.

Outside, Jason Bridge and Olivia Jones, her friends who had been eavesdropping froze in place, their faces pale with shock. They had come to visit Vera but stopped when they heard the argument.

Stan's furious gaze swept over them.

Caught in the act, both of them froze, their bodies stiff with fear. Their eyes widened in panic as they faced Stan, whose rage was almost visible in the air around him.

"H-Hi," Jason stammered, forcing a shaky smile.

Stan's eyes were cold, empty. Without a word, he turned and stormed out.

The moment he was gone, they snapped out of their shock and rushed into the living room.

Vera was on the floor, her body trembling as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her face was flushed, her eyes swollen from the tears that wouldn't stop.

"Vee," Jason whispered as he knelt beside her, pulling her into a tight hug.

"He doesn't deserve you," he spat, his voice thick with anger. "He's a complete jerk."

But the more he tried to comfort her, the harder she cried.

"If he doesn't want the baby, then fine!" Olivia snapped, her voice sharp with frustration.

Struggling with her unending tears, Vera realized they had heard everything, every cruel word Stan had thrown at her.

"This is my fault," she sobbed. "He told me from the beginning."

Stan George was her boyfriend. They had met two years ago, and from the moment their relationship began, everything had seemed perfect. He was wealthy. His lifestyle was proof of that. He was kind, attentive, and loving. But there had always been one issue.

He had been clear from the start that he didn't want children. Not now. He had even insisted she use birth control, making sure there was no chance of an accidental pregnancy. She had agreed. For two years, it had never been a problem. Until her period was late.

Worried but hopeful, she had told Stan, casually mentioning the possibility of pregnancy. She had expected concern, maybe even nervousness. But what she got instead shattered her completely.

That evening, after work, Vera had returned home only to find Stan waiting in his car, parked along the road.

He didn't say a word as he followed her inside, but the moment they stepped in, his anger exploded. His words were sharp, his tone cruel, far beyond anything she had expected.

"Even if he was upset, that reaction was just too much," Jason said, still fuming.

"Don't blame him, please," Vera whispered, quickly wiping her tears.

Jason and Olivia exchanged stunned looks. Was she really defending him?

And in that moment, they both understood. Vera, their kind and loyal friend, wasn't going to leave Stan. No matter how badly he treated her.

"You're not going to break up with him?" Olivia asked, eyes narrowing in disbelief.

Vera barely hesitated before nodding.

Olivia's frustration boiled over, and she nearly smacked Vera.

"He told me from the beginning," Vera said again, her voice steadier now, as if she was convincing herself as much as them.

Jason shook his head, unable to understand. "Even after he said he didn't want the baby? Vera, don't you see what that means?"

If Stan had made it clear that he didn't want a child, it meant he expected Vera to get rid of the pregnancy.

But instead of anger, Vera only blamed herself. "It's not his fault. It's my fault," she murmured, as if Stan had done nothing wrong.

Jason and Olivia exchanged another look, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

"Is the test positive?" Olivia finally asked.

Vera didn't answer. But the fresh tears spilling down her face said everything.

Watching her break down again, they swallowed the rest of their words.

A MONTH LATER

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to react that way."

Stan knelt before Vera, his heart aching at the sight of her tear-filled eyes.

Since his last outburst, she had completely shut him out, ignoring his calls, his messages, and even his emails. He had begged to see her, to explain, but she never responded.

A whole month without her, and it felt like an eternity. An emptiness so deep, it nearly consumed him.

Then, out of nowhere, she agreed to see him. She came to his house, but the coldness in her eyes pierced him like a blade.

"I was angry. I thought you-"

"Thought I wanted to trap you with a child?" Vera cut him off bitterly, her voice trembling.

"Say it. Isn't that what you thought?" Her gaze bore into his, demanding the truth.

"I'm sorry," Stan whispered, his voice thick with regret. He had lost control, let his fears drive him to hurt her. And now, he hated himself for it.

"I was furious because I love you," he admitted, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

Vera's eyes widened, disbelief flashing across her face.

"You... love me?" She sounded like she didn't believe it, like she never expected to hear those words from him.

Stan gently took her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her fingers. "I love you."

She let out a bitter scoff. "And yet, you reacted like that because you thought I was pregnant?" She shook her head, her confusion and pain evident.

How could a man claim to love a woman but explode in anger at the thought of her carrying his child? Especially a man as powerful and independent as Stan? Shouldn't he have been happy?

"Because I was afraid you'd get hurt," he murmured, his gaze locking onto hers, full of unspoken emotions.

If she carried his child, her life could be in danger. That was what terrified him the most. But he couldn't tell her that. He just couldn't.

Vera let out a louder scoff, her frustration bubbling over. "Are you even listening to yourself?" she asked, her confused gaze searching his face.

"I might get hurt? From having your child?" she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief.

Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself before asking, "Tell me the truth, Stan. Why don't you want a child?"

Stan's expression darkened, and he lowered his gaze. "Babe, can we not talk about this now?" he pleaded, his voice strained.

But Vera's patience snapped. "That's what you always say! Every time I ask, it's the same excuse!" she shouted, her frustration reaching its peak.

She studied him, scanning his face for any sign of honesty. Then, the question that had haunted her for so long slipped from her lips.

"Is there another woman?"

"No!!" Stan's answer came instantly, his head shaking furiously.

"I'm not cheating. I swear," he said, his voice firm, his eyes pleading for her to believe him.

Vera fell silent, overwhelmed by the storm of questions swirling in her mind. She didn't know which one to ask first. Instead, she sank to the floor, knelt before him, and wrapped her arms around him.

"I love you so much. So much," she whispered, pressing herself against him.

Stan's arms tightened around her. "And I love you too," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"Then please," she pleaded softly, "tell me about yourself."

She felt it immediately, the way his whole body tensed, his walls slamming back into place. She let out a bitter smile. She already knew the answer. He would never tell her.

Slowly, he pulled away and looked into her eyes. "I'm Stan George, managing Zathcore AutoTech. Li-"

"Lives alone. No family. No friends. An introvert," Vera finished for him, her voice laced with pain.

"Isn't that your next line?" she asked, her heart sinking.

It was always the same. Nothing ever changed.

Stan let out a dry chuckle, spreading his arms. "Because there's nothing else."

"There is," Vera shot back without hesitation.

"I can help you if you let me," she said, standing up before sinking into the sofa.

"Sit," she motioned, and Stan, knowing better than to argue, obeyed.

"Even if you don't have parents, you must have step-parents. You attended a high school, it has a name. You attended university, it has a name, too. You met people there, made friends. They have names, Stan," she pressed, her voice growing desperate.

"Babe, stop," he interrupted, his voice low and controlled. He wasn't willing to go down this road again.

Vera exhaled sharply. "Fine. I won't ask anymore," she said, her voice cracking. "But it hurts so much."

A heavy silence settled between them.

"My mom called," she finally said, breaking the quiet. "She wants to see me."

Stan remained still, knowing what was coming next.

"Will you come with me? Meet my family?" she asked, even though she already knew his answer.

Stan sighed, rubbing his face as if that could somehow relieve the tension between them. "Babe, I would..."

"Have loved to, but you're busy," she finished for him, her voice hollow.

"Same excuse, every time," she whispered. "I don't know your family, and you don't know mine. I want to, but you avoid mine like the plague."

She gave a weak, tired smile before shifting further into the sofa, a silent sign that the conversation was over.

Stan dragged a hand through his hair, pinched the bridge of his nose, and exhaled deeply before looking at her.

"I promise, in due time, you'll know everything about me. Believe me," he said, moving closer. He leaned forward and kissed her gently, hoping to bridge the distance between them.

Vera slowly pulled away, avoiding his lips.

"Kiss me, babe," he whispered, his voice soft, almost pleading.

"Please, babe," Stan's voice dropped into a husky whisper, sending shivers down her spine.

He gently lifted her face, his intense gaze locking onto hers before his lips captured hers. This time, she didn't resist. She told herself it would stop at just a kiss, but soon, their clothes lay forgotten, and she melted beneath him like she always did.

When it was over, reality struck hard.

Her heart pounded as the realization hit, he hadn't protected himself, and she hadn't gone back for her birth control shot.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, still wrapped in his embrace.

Stan tensed. "What is it?"

She quickly shook her head. "Nothing," she lied, panic creeping into her voice.

She couldn't tell him. If she did, it would lead to another fight, another storm she wasn't ready for. Instead, her mind raced, frantically calculating.

Stan wasn't convinced. "Tell me," he pressed, his soft yet insistent voice making it clear he wouldn't drop it.

Vera swallowed, forcing a small smile. "I... I just wanted more," she murmured.

The moment the words left her lips, he flipped her over, his touch igniting a new fire between them.

Again and again, they lost themselves in each other, but no matter how high the pleasure took her, Vera's mind was trapped elsewhere, staring at an invisible calendar, counting the days, realizing with dread that she was right in the middle of her fertile window.

She was in trouble. Big, big trouble.