Carrying the Billionaire's Son

Chapter 1

"Congratulations on your wedding, Stacy and Roman!" My step mother’s voice boomed across the stage, filled with a sickeningly sweet cheer that made my skin crawl

I sat at my table, my fingers tracing the rim of my wine glass before I took a slow, deliberate sip. I forced a faint, polite smile onto my face for the benefit of the cameras.

This wedding banquet was the event of the season. The hall was dripping in gold and crystal, crowded with A-list celebrities and the country's most influential business moguls. Our family, the Sinclairs, was prominent enough that an event like this was basically a state funeral for my dignity.

I shifted my gaze toward the head table. There they were there, the happy couple.

My cheating ex-boyfriend and my backstabbing step sister.

The wine was bitter, but my expression soured even more just by looking at their faces. Brian looked handsome in his tuxedo, though to me, he just looked like a coward dog. Anya was draped in white lace, playing the role of the innocent bride perfectly.

Where should I even begin with this disaster?

Well, the short version is that I caught them having sex together... in my own bedroom. When I confronted them, they had the audacity to claim they were just "too drunk" to know what they were doing. But of course, the drama didn't end there. My step mother and my father insisted they get married immediately because "something had happened" between them. They were terrified that Stacy might be pregnant and that the Sinclair name would be dragged through the mud if the child was born out of wedlock.

They were so desperate to protect Stacy's reputation.

But what about me?

Apparently, it was perfectly fine for me to be humiliated. It was fine for my boyfriend to marry my sister. It was fine for the entire high-society circle to whisper behind my back about how I had been abandoned by my own fiancé for my step sister.

On second thought, looking at Roman’s fake smile, did I really need a cheater in my life? No. In a way, their marriage was a trash disposal service. They deserved each other.

Still, the sting of being the "black sheep" of the Sinclair family never quite went away. No matter how hard I worked or how much I achieved, I was always the outsider in my own home.

"Willow, are you enjoying the night?"

I was so lost in my bitter thoughts that I didn't notice Stacy approaching. She stood there in her expensive gown, holding a glass of champagne, looking down at me with a disdainful look.

She probably expected me to snap. Honestly, she didn't even have to speak to irritate me, her face alone was enough to ruin my appetite.

I flashed her a fake, polished smile, the kind I'd spent years perfecting and took another sip of wine.

"I'm enjoying it very much. The wine is excellent." I replied smoothly

If she wanted to play a game of pretenses, I was ready. I was an expert at acting. You don't survive a family like mine without learning how to wear a mask.

Stacy's smile faltered for a second, then her eyes turned cold. She leaned in closer, dropping the "sweet bride" act so only I could hear her.

"Cut the act, Willow. I know you want to kill me right now. But get used to it. Everything that belongs to you, I will take. I am the only one fit to inherit the Sinclair Company. I will always be better than my big sister."

She didn't shout, but her voice was sharp. I couldn't help it. I actually laughed out loud. The sheer confidence of this girl was staggering. She had already stolen my boyfriend, and now she thought she could just walk away with the family business?

She could have the man, but the company? That was a different story.

"I'm sorry, my dear little sister." I said, my voice was calm and steady as I met her gaze

"But tradition is tradition. The heir to the Sinclair Company is always the eldest child. And that is me. You’re just a daughter from an affair, don't start making demands you can't back up."

I watched with immense satisfaction as her face twisted in rage. She was fuming, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her glass. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing again.

"Don't drink too much." she hissed, trying to regain her footing

"I wouldn't want you to get drunk and cause a scene at my wedding banquet. It would be so... embarrassing for you."

"My alcohol tolerance is quite high, I assure you, I won't be making a scene." I said tilting my head lightly.

"Really?" Stacy's eyes glinted with a sudden, dark thought.

She signaled a waiter and took a fresh glass of wine from his tray, handing it to me.

"Can you drink this whole glass without getting drunk? Prove it."

Is she seriously challenging me to a drinking contest in the middle of her wedding? I looked at the glass, then at her. Fine. If it would make her go away, I’d play along. I took the glass from her hand and drained it in one long gulp.

By the time I set the empty glass down, Stacy had already slipped away back to her seat.

That was weird, I thought. Why was she so insistent on that one glass?

A few minutes passed, and suddenly, a wave of heat washed over me. My skin felt like it was on fire, and the room began to spin. My heart started racing against my ribs, and a strange, heavy fog settled over my brain.

Damn it. I wasn't drunk. I’d been drugged by that witch.

It wasn't just simple alcohol, it was an aphrodisiac.

I could feel my self-control slipping away as my pulse throbbed in my ears. Anya hadn't just wanted me gone, she wanted to destroy me completely.

I had to get out of there. If I stayed, and if any man approached me while I was in this state, I wouldn't be able to answer for my actions. I needed to get to a room, lock the door, and ride this out.

I forced myself to stand up. My legs felt like lead. I stumbled toward the exit, my vision blurring into a smear of gold lights and black tuxedos. I managed to reach the hallway leading to the elevators. This hotel was massive, and I just needed to find a quiet space.

The world tilted dangerously. I felt myself falling, but before I hit the floor, a pair of strong arms caught me.

"Young girls nowadays, always drinking more than they can handle." a deep, masculine voice vibrated against my ear

I wanted to scream at him. I'm not drunk, I'm drugged, for heaven's sake! But the words wouldn't come out. My tongue felt thick, and all I could do was gasp for air.

He picked me up effortlessly. I tried to struggle, but my limbs had no strength.

"What are you doing? Put me down!" I managed to croak out

But as he held me close, the heat intensified. The sensation of his body against mine was sending my senses into a tailspin.

I tried to look at his face, but everything was a blur. I could only make out a sharp jawline and the scent of expensive sandalwood.

In my drugged haze, I lost control. My hands moved on their own, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. I needed the heat to stop. I needed the friction to go away. It was unbearable.

He carried me into a room and I heard the click of a keycard and the heavy thud of a door closing. He laid me down on a bed. The cool sheets felt like heaven for a split second before the fire returned.

I started pulling at my own clothes, desperate for relief.

"So hot... it's so uncomfortable!" I groaned, tossing and turning

I sensed him turning to leave, and a sudden, primal fear gripped me. I didn't want to be alone in this fire. I reached out and grabbed his hand, my fingers clinging to his sleeve.

"Don't go! Please... help me!" I begged

I knew it was wrong. I knew I should be running away. But the drug had stripped away my logic, leaving only a desperate, burning need.

The man paused. He looked down at me, his eyes dark and unreadable in the shadows of the room.

"You asked for it." he whispered

That was the last thing I heard before his lips pressed against mine, and the world vanished into a blur of heat and shadows.

--------------

The next morning, I woke up to a sharp, stabbing pain in my back and waist. My head felt like someone was using a jackhammer on my skull.

I groaned and tried to sit up, but the moment the covers shifted, I realized I wasn't wearing anything.

My dress was crumpled on the floor like a discarded rag.

What happened? Where am I?

Memory fragments started hitting me like stones. The banquet, the wine Anya gave me, the elevator... the man.

I stared at the messy bedsheets and the lingering scent of sandalwood in the air. One thing was absolutely certain, I had slept with a complete stranger.

Before I could even process the shock, the door burst open. I gasped, pulling the duvet up to my chin to cover myself.

My father stood in the doorway, his face purple with rage. Behind him were my step.mother and a smirking Stacy.

"You absolutely worthless piece of garbage! A total disgrace!" my father bellowed

Before I could say a word, he marched over and delivered a stinging slap across my face.

My head snapped to the side. The room felt like it was spinning again.

"Stacy told us you left the wedding with some old man!" my step mother added, her voice full of fake disappointment

"Do you have no dignity left, Willow? To do something so filthy while your sister is celebrating her marriage?!"

Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall in front of them.

"That's not true! Stacy set me up! She drugged me!" I screamed, my voice cracking

My stepmother didn't hesitate, she stepped forward and slapped me again.

"And now you're trying to blame your sister for your own disgusting behavior? Typical."

My father looked at me with pure disgust, as if I were something he’d stepped on in the street.

"Enough. I'm done with you. As of this moment, you are no longer a part of the Sinclair family. You are disowned. Pack what's left of your pride and stay out of our lives."

He turned and stormed out. My stepmother followed, huffing about the "scandal."

Stacy stayed behind for just a second. She leaned against the doorframe, a triumphant, wicked smile dancing on her lips. She didn't say a word, but her eyes said everything, she won.

Then, she closed the door.

I sat there in the silence of the hotel room, clutching the sheets. Disowned. Kicked out. No longer a Sinclair.

Oddly enough, as the initial shock wore off, I felt a strange sensation in my chest. It wasn't just pain, it was relief. Like a heavy weight I’d been carrying for twenty years had finally been lifted. I was free of them.

But I wasn't finished.

I looked at the door where Stacy had just been standing.

She thought she had destroyed me. she thought she had taken everything.

"You haven't won yet, Stacy." I whispered into the empty room.

"I'll make sure you pay for every single thing you've done."

The "black sheep" was finally out of the pen, and I was going to make sure they regretted the day they ever crossed me.

***