Dirty little Secrets:The billionaire's hidden heir

ELARA

Positive.

Two little red lines stared back at me from the pregnancy test. I was pregnant. My hand shook as I held the stick, and I just kept blinking at it, hoping that if I stared long enough, the lines might somehow vanish. “This can’t be happening,” I whispered, while every worst-case scenario crashed over me at once.

I tossed the test into the trash can beside the sink and turned the faucet on full blast. I needed to breathe, to calm down. These things get it wrong sometimes, right? But deep down, I knew better. The chances of a false positive were slim, and I’d already taken two tests. Both said the same thing.

Another wave of nausea hit me hard. I gagged, but nothing came up I’d already thrown up everything I had in me that morning and hadn’t eaten since. The sick feeling refused to leave.

I shut off the water and caught my reflection in the mirror. My face looked pale and washed out, almost gray. My eyes were dull, and my cheeks looked sunken. I was a complete mess. My gaze drifted back to the trash can where the test still sat on top of the pile, mocking me.

The dread that had been creeping over me since I woke up now had a name, and it clung to my skin like something living. What the hell was I supposed to do? The scariest part was that I had no idea who the father was. If I at least knew that, maybe I wouldn’t feel so disgusted with myself.

Two weeks ago, my entire life had flipped upside down. That single day became the worst one I’d ever lived through. Not only did I get cheated on, but I ended up sleeping with a stranger by mistake.

Tears stung the back of my eyes. My stomach twisted tighter, and the awful feeling grew stronger with every passing second.

If I’d known the night I thought would be the most romantic of my life would turn into the ugliest, I never would have gone. And if I’d known one bottle of champagne would be enough to get me drunk and land me in bed with someone else, I wouldn’t have touched a drop.

***

**TWO WEEKS EARLIER**

“Hey, it’s Jackson. Leave a message.” His voicemail picked up for the fourth time. I sighed heavily, a hundred questions swirling in my head. I’d already called him five times, and he still wasn’t answering.

I fired off another text, hoping he’d finally see the twenty messages I’d sent and show up soon.

I switched my phone off and stared out the floor-to-ceiling window at the glittering Brooklyn skyline. It looked beautiful out there. It should have felt romantic. But without Jackson, it just felt empty.

I checked the clock again. Eight forty. Where was he? Nerves and excitement twisted together inside me as I paced the hotel room, my stomach doing little flips. Maybe he was already on his way and that’s why he hadn’t answered. Maybe traffic was bad. Maybe—

I groaned and dropped onto the huge king-size bed. Overthinking wasn’t going to fix anything. My fingers kept brushing over the soft rose petals I’d scattered across the sheets earlier.

My phone pinged and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I grabbed it fast, but it was only Clara.

Clara: Sorry, babe. They moved me to Entrance 4. Haven’t seen Jackson though. Is he with you?

I replied with way less energy than I’d had a few hours ago.

Me: No, he’s not here yet. I don’t even know if he’s coming.

Clara: That jerk! How dare he leave you waiting like this! Just wait till I catch him tomorrow.

I smiled a little. My best friend always knew exactly what to say to cheer me up. We texted back and forth for a bit until she had to get back to work, and then I was left alone with my thoughts again.

Nine fifty-two. It was nine fifty-two and Jackson still wasn’t here. Worry had turned into pure anger and hurt. I felt completely stood up. On our second anniversary, of all nights. I’d planned this whole surprise for him, and this was how he repaid me.

It wouldn’t have stung so badly on any other day. But tonight was supposed to be special. I thought he’d be just as excited as I was. Last year he’d thrown a huge party with all our friends and made our first anniversary unforgettable. This year I wanted to be the one to surprise him… and look how that turned out.

I’d spent five straight hours decorating this massive room all by myself. I glanced around now the candles were more than half burned down, the excitement that had filled the space earlier was gone. Even the balloons looked droopy and sad.

Screw him. I clenched my jaw, twisted open the champagne bottle, and drank straight from it. The cold bubbles went down easy, but my throat still burned. The more I drank, the sharper the hurt became. Tears pricked at my eyes as I reached for the next bottle. It would be such a waste to let all this effort go to nothing.

I kept the bottle in one hand and stared at the cake sitting on the coffee table. In big letters it read HAPPY SECOND ANNIVERSARY, LOVE.

I ground my teeth together, wiped the white chocolate words off with my finger, and licked it clean. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go, but here I was with nothing left. Soft jazz played in the background. I stood up from the couch and started swaying my hips to the music, letting the frustration finally loosen its grip. I danced like nobody was watching, like some wild pop star.

I don’t know how long I kept spinning around like a tipsy fool before I heard a knock at the door. I froze, wondering if I’d imagined it. Then it came again, louder this time.

Jackson? It had to be him. I knew he’d show up eventually. The anger I’d been carrying started to melt away, and hope rushed back in.

A clumsy little laugh slipped out of me while my legs wobbled. I quickly wiped the chocolate off my fingers, then walked over and unlocked the door.

“Jackson?”