One Night Callboy: Knocked Up by the Ruthless Billionaire

SCARLETT"Mom, if you can hear me... please wake up. I need you."I sat beside her hospital bed, holding her thin hand in both of mine. Her skin felt cool and paper-thin, like it might tear if I squeezed too hard. The machines around us beeped softly-steady, mechanical heartbeats that had become the only proof she was still here. Five years. Five long years in this quiet room, tubes and wires keeping her body alive while her mind stayed somewhere far away.I stared at her peaceful face and felt the same ache I'd carried every single visit. Yesterday Ethan had threatened to pull the plug. One call, he'd said. One call and all this ends. The words kept replaying in my head like a bad song I couldn't turn off. Was it a bluff? Or was he serious? I searched her face for answers, but she gave me nothing. Just the slow rise and fall of her chest, the same rhythm that had tricked me into thinking there was still hope.I rested my forehead on our joined hands. Tears slipped out and soak

SCARLETT"You humiliated me in front of everyone."Ethan ripped off his mask the second we stepped into the bedroom, throwing it onto the dresser so hard it skidded across the marble top. His face was flushed, jaw tight, eyes burning with something darker than anger. Disgust. Embarrassment. Maybe even a little fear.I followed him inside quietly, closing the door behind me with a soft click. The room felt too big, too cold, the chandelier light bouncing off every expensive surface like it was mocking us both.I sat down at my dressing table, fingers trembling as I untied my own mask. The black velvet fell away, revealing red-rimmed eyes and smeared lipstick. I looked wrecked. I felt worse.Ethan paced behind me, hands clenched into fists. "Do you have any idea what that looked like? You—my wife—kissing some random stranger right after I introduced you as Mrs. Reed. Everyone saw. Everyone."I let out a small, bitter chuckle. It sounded foreign coming from my throat. "Isn't that

SCARLETT The phone's shrill ring sliced through the quiet like a knife. I shot upright, heart slamming so hard it hurt. The room was dim, golden afternoon light slanting low through the blinds. For one dizzy second I forgot where I was. Then I saw him. Ryder lay on his side, facing away from me, breathing slow and deep. The sheet had slipped to his waist. His back rose and fell steadily. One arm tucked under the pillow. He looked peaceful. Safe. I felt anything but. Panic flooded me—cold, sharp, immediate. I scrambled out of bed, legs tangling in the sheets. My bare feet hit the cool floor. I grabbed the phone before it could ring again. Ethan's name glared on the screen. I darted into the hallway, pulling the bedroom door almost closed so my voice wouldn't carry. I answered on the fifth ring, pressing the phone to my ear like it might burn me. "Where are you?" Ethan's voice came out low and furious, barely controlled. "I've called six fucking times Scarlett. We need to

SCARLETTI walked into the dining room that morning expecting the usual quiet emptiness.Instead Ethan sat at the head of the table, newspaper spread open beside his untouched coffee. He looked up as I entered, face neutral, but his eyes held that calculated calm I'd come to recognize as a mask. The maid had set places for two—mine across from him, with fresh fruit sliced neatly, toast still warm, and coffee pouring steam into the air. Like we were still the couple we'd pretended to be for five years.He folded the paper carefully. "Good morning."I froze in the doorway for a second, my stomach twisting. The last time we'd spoken he'd dismissed my pain like it was an inconvenience. Now he was here, waiting for me, like nothing had changed.The maid glanced between us. Ethan waved her off. "You can go. We'll serve ourselves."She nodded and slipped out, closing the door softly behind her.I moved slowly to my chair. Sat down. Kept my eyes on the plate. Picked up my fork and poked

SCARLETT "Ohhh fuckk-Ryder... I want to come," "Not yet, Scarlett. You have to learn to beg harder." Ryder's voice was low, rough, and full of dark promise as his fingers curled deep inside me, pressing against that perfect spot that made my whole body light up. He held me pinned against the sofa with one arm around my waist, keeping my hips from bucking too wildly while he teased me mercilessly—slow, shallow thrusts that built me up, then nothing, then feather-light circles around my clit just as I was about to shatter. I whimpered, head thrown back, thighs trembling around his wrist. Sweat beaded on my skin. My breath came in short, desperate gasps. "Ryder—please—I'm so close—let me come—" He pulled his fingers out completely. The sudden emptiness made me cry out—sharp, frustrated. My hips chased his hand instinctively, seeking more. He brought those slick fingers to his mouth and licked them slowly—long, deliberate strokes of his tongue—while staring straight into my eyes