Chapter 1-Congratulations, You’re Pregnant

The sudden wave of nausea hit me so hard that my pen slipped from my fingers, leaving a jagged black line straight across the financial report I was auditing.

I clamped both hands over my mouth and bolted from my cubicle, rushing through the busy accounting department toward the restroom at the far end of the hall. I barely managed to kick open a stall door before my stomach completely turned itself inside out. I gripped the cold porcelain bowl with white knuckles, shaking and gasping for air as cold sweat broke out across my forehead and neck.

When the retching finally subsided, I rested my forehead against the cool stall door, utterly drained and exhausted. This was not a simple stomach bug or food poisoning from the office cafeteria. It was the third time this week I had experienced this sudden, paralyzing dizziness and sickness out of nowhere.

"Sarah? Is that you in there?" a gentle voice called out from the restroom doorway.

I took a slow, deep breath, trying to steady my trembling hands before standing up. "I am fine, Lisa," I managed to say, my throat feeling dry and raw as I recognized the voice of my fellow senior auditor. "I think something I had for breakfast just did not agree with my stomach."

"Are you sure?" Lisa asked, her tone filled with genuine concern as I stepped out of the stall. "You look so pale today, Sarah. You have been working ten hours a day for three weeks straight on the Vance Group quarterly reports. You should really ask for a sick leave."

"I cannot do that, Lisa," I said softly, turning on the sink faucet and washing my hands. "The quarterly audit is due on the CEO's desk by Monday morning, and Mr. Vance expects absolute perfection."

I splashed cold water onto my face and stared into the mirror above the sink. The reflection staring back at me looked thin, weary, and hollow. Dark purple circles bruised the delicate skin beneath my eyes, and my cheeks had lost their natural color. I could not afford to show weakness or fall behind in this company. Vance Group was a ruthless corporate machine, and low-level employees who could not pull their weight were replaced without a second thought.

When my lunch break arrived, I slipped quietly out through the back entrance of the skyscraper, avoiding the busy main lobby, and walked two blocks down the street to a private medical clinic. I had booked a quick walk-in appointment, fully expecting the doctor to tell me I was suffering from severe fatigue, low blood pressure, or a mild stomach infection brought on by overwork.

Instead, Dr. Miller sat back in her leather chair, reviewed my lab results on her computer screen, and turned to look directly at me with a serious, thoughtful expression.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Weston," Dr. Miller said, her voice calm and measured. "Your blood test and preliminary ultrasound show that you are five weeks pregnant."

The words echoed in the small office like a sudden, deafening thunderclap. My mind went completely blank, and my hands froze on my lap.

"What?" I whispered, my voice barely audible as my heart began to hammer wildly against my ribs. "No... Doctor, that is impossible. There has to be a mistake with the lab results. I take birth control pills religiously every single morning. I have never missed a single day."

"No contraceptive method is one hundred percent guaranteed, Sarah," Dr. Miller explained gently, pouring a glass of water and handing it across the desk to me. "Factors like severe stress, digestive changes, or subtle hormonal shifts can reduce their effectiveness. According to your blood work and the scan, there is zero doubt. You are definitely expecting."

I sat frozen in the chair, staring blankly at the glass of water in my trembling hands. A cold sweat broke out across my back.

Dillian had made his stance on children painfully clear from the very day we signed our marriage agreement three years ago. He did not want children. He had explicitly told me that he had no room in his life for the chaos, the emotional distraction, or the vulnerability of raising a family.

"There is something else you need to know, Sarah," Dr. Miller continued, her tone growing even more serious as she rotated her computer monitor toward me to show the preliminary ultrasound scan. "During the scan, I noticed severe structural irregularities in your uterus. Your uterine lining is dangerously thin, far thinner than normal for a woman your age."

I blinked, trying to force my numb mind to understand her medical terms. "What... what does that mean for me, Doctor?"

"It means this pregnancy is a complete medical miracle," Dr. Miller said quietly, looking me straight in the eye. "Given the state of your uterine tissue, conceiving naturally should have been nearly impossible. If you do not carry this baby to term, the chances of you ever conceiving again in your lifetime are practically zero. This baby might be your only chance at ever becoming a mother."

My breath hitched in my chest. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the image of the tiny dark spot displayed on the screen.

A child. A real, living piece of me growing inside my body. A baby that belonged to me in a cold, hostile world where I had spent the last three years feeling completely invisible and alone.

When I stepped out of the medical clinic onto the busy city sidewalk, my head was spinning in circles. The noise of traffic and pedestrians blurred into a low background hum.

Dillian and I had been married for three years, but our entire marriage was built on a cold, calculated business arrangement. It was an arranged marriage of convenience. Dillian’s grandfather, the old patriarch of the Vance family, had issued a strict ultimatum: Dillian had to be married and settled down with a respectable wife before his thirty-first birthday, or he would forfeit his position as the rightful successor and CEO of Vance Group.

At the time, Dillian’s true love, Chloe, had suddenly left the country to pursue her fashion design career in Paris without leaving a single word behind. Heartbroken, bitter, and desperate to secure his rightful inheritance, Dillian had agreed to his grandfather's demands. My family was on the brink of complete financial bankruptcy at the time, and agreeing to marry Dillian saved my parents from losing everything we owned.

For three long years, I lived a quiet double life. At home, I acted as his obedient and invisible wife, keeping his house in perfect order and expecting nothing in return. By day, I worked as an anonymous junior auditor in the finance department of Vance Group, blending into the background of his company. Nobody in the corporation knew that the quiet girl working ten hours a day in the accounting cubicles was actually the CEO’s legal wife.

To the rest of the business world, Dillian Vance was a handsome, brooding billionaire bachelor. To me, he was a distant husband who kept his heart locked behind an impenetrable wall of ice.

Yet, as I walked down the street toward our quiet estate, clutching the small white envelope containing the ultrasound photo inside my purse, a tiny flicker of hope ignited in my chest.

Tomorrow was our three year wedding anniversary.

Perhaps this miracle baby was meant to happen. Perhaps a child of his own could finally break down the thick ice around Dillian’s heart, bridge the massive gap between us, and transform our cold business agreement into a real family.

I spent the entire evening preparing his favorite meal in our quiet, empty house. I set the long mahogany dining table with fine chinaware, lit two scented candles in the center, and carefully placed the white envelope with the ultrasound photo right beside his dinner plate.

It was long past eleven o'clock at night when the front door finally unlocked with a heavy click.

Dillian stepped into the foyer, staggering slightly as he closed the door behind him. The distinct scent of strong whiskey filled the hallway as he untied his silk necktie and tossed his tailored suit jacket onto the leather couch. His dark hair was messy, his collar was unbuttoned, and his striking facial features were tense with exhaustion and distraction.

"Dillian," I said softly, stepping forward from the dining room to steady his arm before he lost his balance. "You are home late. Have you eaten anything yet? I made dinner for us."

"I am fine, Sarah," he muttered, brushing my hand off his arm with a cold, indifferent gesture that stung my heart. "Stop fussing over me. I had drinks with clients."

He walked straight into the living room and threw himself down onto the soft sofa, resting his head back against the cushions and closing his eyes in frustration. As he leaned back, his smartphone slid out of his trousers pocket and clattered onto the hardwood floor near my feet.

The phone screen instantly lit up with a bright light, displaying a new incoming text message notification.

I bent down to pick up the device to hand it back to him gently. But before I could hand it over, my eyes caught the bold text displayed on the screen.

*Sender: Chloe*

*Message: I just landed at the airport, Dillian. I cannot wait to see you tomorrow night. Remember our promise.*

My blood ran cold. My stomach dropped into a deep, icy void, and my hands began to tremble so violently that I almost dropped the phone right onto the floor.

I looked up from the glowing screen and stared at my husband. Dillian’s eyes remained closed, but a subtle, rare smile played across his lips at the mere notification sound from her contact. He was fast asleep within seconds, completely oblivious to the fact that my whole world had just shattered into pieces right in front of him.