Divorced by the billionaire, pregnant with his twins

Chapter 1

Mara

The pregnancy test rested on the marble countertop while I stood before the bathroom mirror, unable to touch it. My reflection stared back at me with tired brown eyes, and for a long moment, neither of us moved.

I braced both hands against the sink. The cold marble pressed into my palms, but it did nothing to quiet the pounding of my heart.

The pregnancy test strip held three years of disappointment. It was almost cruel that something so small could decide whether I walked out of this bathroom smiling, or carrying another heartbreak.

My gaze drifted over my reflection. The woman staring back at me looked older than twenty-nine. The faint shadows beneath my eyes refused to disappear, and my smile had become something I wore for other people instead of myself.

Lately, my body had been different. Every morning, nausea pulled me out of bed before sunrise. The smell of coffee, once my favorite part of the day, now made my stomach churn, and exhaustion clung to my body no matter how many hours I slept.

Any other woman would have welcomed those signs. I couldn't. I was tried of breaking my own heart..

Three years had taught me that my body loved making promises it never intended to keep. My period would come late, my breasts would ache, and I would feel dizzy for days .

I would buy another pregnancy test, lock myself inside this very bathroom, muster silent prayers ,then I would watch a single line appear, while every dream I had carefully built crumbled without making a sound.

The first year, Damon held me every time I cried. He kissed my forehead, wiped away my tears, and promised that we still had time. "We'll have our baby," he would whisper. "I don't care how long it takes." Back then, I believed him.

The second year, his hugs became brief, as though he was already thinking about something else. His kisses no longer lingered on my forehead, and every conversation about babies ended with him rubbing his temples before changing the subject.

By the third year, neither of us talked about babies anymore. The nursery we had decorated together remained locked. Every time I walked past that room, I felt as though someone reached into my chest and squeezed my heart until I could barely breathe.

I slowly reached for the pregnancy test. My fingers hovered above it before finally wrapping around the plastic. They were trembling.

I let out a shaky laugh. "Look at you," I whispered to myself. "You've done this dozens of times... but you're still scared."

My throat tightened. I closed my eyes. "Please," I whispered, the word escaping before I could stop it.

"If you're going to disappoint me again," I swallowed hard, "just do it quickly."

Before I could tear open the package, Damon's voice echoed through the mansion. "Mara!" My shoulders jerked.

The corners of my lips twitched on instinct before the smile died almost as quickly as it came. My fingers curled tighter around the pregnancy test. There was a time I would have rushed downstairs just to hear him call my name again.

Now, every shout made my stomach knot with dread.

"Mara!" The second shout came louder. Sharper. Impatient.

I tightened my grip around the pregnancy test. "I'm coming," I called back, hoping he had heard me.

Silence. For one brief moment, I thought that was the end of it.

Then, "Where are you?" The sudden roar made me jump, and my fingers lost their grip.

"No!" The pregnancy test slipped from my hand. I lunged forward, my fingertips brushing against it, but missed.

The plastic struck the toilet water with a soft splash. Before I could reach inside, the automatic flush activated, water swirling around it. I watched helplessly as it disappeared. Gone, just like that.

My hand remained suspended above the bowl long after the water became still. A strange laugh escaped my lips. It wasn't happy, and it wasn't even bitter. It sounded empty.

"So much for that." I leaned against the sink, my breathing uneven.

Maybe it would have shown one line. Maybe, maybe for the first time, it would have shown two. I'll never know.

That thought hurt more than I expected. Not because I believed I was pregnant, but because fate hadn't even allowed me the chance to find out.

I turned on the faucet. Cold water rushed over my trembling hands, and I splashed some onto my face before lifting my head toward the mirror again. My eyes were already beginning to glisten.

"No." I pointed at my reflection. "We're not doing this today."

I inhaled deeply. Then again. Again. By the fourth breath, the tears had retreated.

My eyes were red despite my efforts. I pinched my cheeks until a little color returned, pressed my lips together, and forced my shoulders back.

The woman in the mirror still looked as though she hadn't slept in weeks.

She would have to fool everyone anyway.

I straightened my blouse, tucked a loose curl behind my ear, and forced my feet toward the bathroom door. Whatever Damon wanted, it was waiting downstairs.

The hallway felt unusually quiet. I rested my fingertips against the wooden banister as I descended, my stomach still twisting from the pregnancy test that had disappeared before I could even use it.

By the time I reached the last step, Damon was already waiting in the living room. He stood beside the floor-to-ceiling windows, one hand tucked into the pocket of his charcoal suit while the other scrolled absently through something on his phone. Morning light spilled across his broad shoulders, outlining the sharp lines of his jaw and the face that had once been the center of my world.

For a brief moment, I simply looked at him. Three years hadn't changed how handsome he was. If anything, they had made him even more striking.

His dark hair was neatly combed back, and the expensive watch around his wrist caught the sunlight whenever he moved. He looked every bit the billionaire every business magazine admired.

Once, I used to look at him and wonder how someone like him had fallen in love with someone like me.

"What took you so long?" His voice pulled me from my thoughts. He didn't look up immediately, his attention remaining on the phone in his hand, his thumb moving lazily across the screen as though the answer barely mattered.

"I was upstairs." A faint crease appeared between his brows. "Our bedroom has a bathroom."

"I know." Only then did he lift his head, his dark eyes settling on my face for a brief second before narrowing slightly. "Then why weren't you using it?"

I instinctively touched my forehead. "I wasn't feeling well."

For the smallest moment, something shifted in his expression. His grip around the phone tightened, and his lips parted slightly, almost as if another question was about to leave them. Are you okay?

The words never came. Instead, he looked away, his jaw hardening. "I don't have time for this."

The sentence landed harder than I expected. My fingers curled against the fabric of my blouse, and I lowered my eyes before he could notice the hurt on my face.

Three years ago, this same man had carried me upstairs after I sprained my ankle because he refused to let me put weight on it. He had stayed awake the entire night changing the ice pack on my swollen foot, ignoring every meeting scheduled for the following morning.

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat. "Did something happen?"

Instead of answering, Damon glanced toward the front door. His shoulders rose with a slow breath before he slipped his phone into his pocket. "My mother is coming."

I nodded. "I'll let the kitchen know”

"They've already prepared everything." His voice remained calm. "And," he paused for a second, "she isn't coming alone."

A strange feeling settled in my stomach. Before I could ask what he meant, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the mansion.

The front door swung open. A cool breeze drifted into the mansion before the sound of heels clicking against the marble floor echoed through the foyer. Every step was slow and confident, announcing her arrival long before she came into view.

Eleanor Blackwood, my mother-in-law, entered first. She carried herself with the same grace and authority she always had, her pearl earrings catching the light as she walked. Without sparing me more than a passing glance, she crossed the room and stopped in front of Damon.

"My dear." A warm smile softened her usually stern features as she cupped his cheek. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment before she pulled him into a hug, patting his back affectionately.

"I've missed you." A faint smile tugged at Damon's lips. "I saw you two days ago."

"I know." She laughed softly, smoothing an invisible crease from his jacket. "But two days is still too long, or is it wrong for a mother to miss her son?"

I stood where I was, quietly watching them. A familiar ache settled beneath my ribs. During the three years I'd been married into this family, she had never looked at me with that kind of warmth. Not for once.

She finally turned toward me. "Mara." Her smile disappeared so naturally that I wondered if it had ever been there.

"Mother." I offered a polite smile, though it felt stiff on my face. She acknowledged it with a brief nod before looking away again.

"I hope everything is ready."

"Yes."

"Good." Her attention had already drifted elsewhere.

The silence barely had time to settle before another pair of heels echoed through the entrance. Slower this time. Lighter and more elegant.

Something tightened in my chest. I couldn't explain why, but every instinct told me whoever had just walked through that door was about to change everything.

The maid hurried forward and pulled the door open wider. A woman stepped inside. She was breathtaking.

The cream-colored dress hugged her figure perfectly, and the diamond earrings at her ears shimmered each time she moved. She carried herself with effortless confidence, her posture straight, her smile calm, as though she had never once questioned whether she belonged in a room like this.

My mother-in-law's face lit up. "Vanessa!" The excitement in her voice startled me.

She hurried forward, wrapped both arms around the woman, and held her tightly for several seconds. When they finally pulled apart, she kept both hands around Vanessa's shoulders, looking at her as though she had returned home after years away.

"My goodness," she said, smiling from ear to ear. "Look at you."

"I've missed you," Vanessa replied softly.

"I've missed you even more." Their laughter filled the room.

I stood a few feet away, suddenly feeling like an outsider inside my own home.

Then, Vanessa looked at me. Our eyes met across the room. The smile on her lips remained polite, but something about it made my pulse quicken.

It wasn't unkind. It was knowing.

My breath caught. I had seen that face before in photographs.

Vanessa Ashford. His first love. The woman everyone said had broken his heart. The woman I never thought would walk back into our lives.

She took a few graceful steps toward me. "So," her eyes traveled over my face before settling on mine again, "you're Mara."

I forced my lips into a smile. "And you're Vanessa."

She smiled a little wider. "I've heard so much about you."

The words sounded polite. Her tone didn't. A chill crawled slowly down my spine.

Before I could answer, Damon walked toward her. His steps slowed as he stopped beside her, and for the first time since I'd come downstairs, the tension seemed to leave his face.

"How was your flight?"

"It was fine." She looked up at him, smiling with a familiarity that made something inside me twist painfully. It wasn't just the smile. It was the way she looked at him.

My mother-in-law's words brought me back from my wandering thoughts. She gently rested a hand on Vanessa's back. "Come and sit down. You shouldn't be standing for too long."

A small frown creased my forehead. "Why?"

Vanessa lowered her eyes, her hand drifting protectively over her stomach. Before she could answer, Damon spoke. "Because she's pregnant."

I looked at Vanessa. Then at Damon. A small smile tugged at my lips as I waited for him to explain.

He didn't. Instead, he met my eyes. "Vanessa is carrying my child."

The smile slowly disappeared from my face. I stared at him, waiting for him to say something else. Anything that would make those words make sense.

He didn't. A strange ringing filled my ears.

"Damon..." My voice barely came out. "What did you just say?"

His expression never changed. "Vanessa is pregnant with my child."

My fingers tightened around the back of the chair. "No," I shook my head slowly, "you're lying."

Or maybe, maybe I was still standing in that bathroom. Maybe I had imagined coming downstairs. Because this, this couldn't be real.