Pregnant For My Ex-Husband’s Billionaire Best Friend

Sabrina’s POV. I was still his wife on paper. Still carrying his child. And as of last night, I was also the woman he’d replaced before the ink on our divorce was even dry. But Leon didn’t know any of that when he walked back through my front door at noon. I hadn’t moved the candles. I hadn’t touched the dinner. The roasted chicken sat congealing on the table, a monument to the family he’d already buried. “You’re still here,” he said, surprised to find me standing in the hallway instead of gone. “You’re not serious,” I whispered. My voice scraped against my throat, dry and coarse, as if I had swallowed a handful of sand. The shock had severed the connection between my brain and my tear ducts. “Leon, tell me you’re joking.” Leon didn’t look at me. He was adjusting his cufflinks and staring into the hallway mirror as if he were checking his appearance for a board meeting, not ending our marriage. “I’ve been seeing Zara for a while now,” he said. His tone was terrifyingly flat, wit

Sabrina’s POV. I woke up to a water stain on the hospital ceiling. I had been staring at it for seven days. The doctors called it a recovery. They told me I was lucky to be alive, that the emergency had been severe. But as I lay there, tangled in starched, antiseptic-smelling sheets with an IV still taped to my arm, I didn’t feel lucky. I felt like I owed someone a debt I couldn’t name. Six hopes. That was the tally now. Six hopes that had flickered and faded within me over seven years. Cole had been the one to hold my hand while the anesthesia wore off. Cole was the one who bullied the nurses into getting me extra blankets. The nurse told me he was the one who gave his blood when I needed it most, because Leon’s phone was unreachable and mine was the same type. Watching him sleep in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to my bed, his jaw lined with stubble from days of neglect, made something tighten painfully in my chest. Because Leon never came. Not once. No flowers. No call

Sabrina’s POV. I woke up to the sound of rain hitting the hotel window. My head throbbed, a dull ache that pulsed in time with my heartbeat. For a split second, I forgot. Then, the memory of the previous night crashed over me. Vodka. The tears. The desperate need to feel something other than pain. And Cole. I froze, turning my head slowly. The space beside me was empty, the sheets cold. I sat up, clutching the duvet to my chest, my heart racing. What have I done? Cole was sitting in the armchair across the room, fully dressed, watching me. He didn’t look triumphant. He looked worried. “You’re awake,” he said softly. I scrambled out of bed, grabbing my clothes from the floor, my hands shaking so hard I could barely button my shirt. Shame, hot and suffocating, flooded my veins. “This… this was a mistake,” I stammered, refusing to meet his eyes. “I wasn’t in my right mind.” He stood up, but he didn’t come closer. “I didn’t take advantage of you, Sabrina. You know that.” “I was

Sabrina’s POV.The elevator ride to the third floor felt like an eternity. The hallway of Tara’s building smelled like floor wax and old dust—a stark, gritty contrast to the leather and sandalwood scent that lingered on my clothes from Cole’s SUV.He will come for you.Cole’s warning echoed in my mind with every step I took toward the apartment. I tried to shake it off. I was safe here. Tara was my best friend, she was neutral ground. Leon wouldn't dare cause a scene in a public building.I reached the door and knocked, my knuckles barely grazing the wood before it flew open.Tara stood there, her hair messy and her eyes wide with panic. The moment she saw me, her shoulders sagged in relief."Sabrina!"I didn't even have the energy to say hello. I just collapsed forward, and she caught me, dragging me inside and kicking the door shut with her foot. The sound of the deadbolt sliding home should have been comforting, but the knot in my stomach didn't loosen."I’ve got you," she whispere

Leon’s POV.I slammed the front door of my house hard enough to rattle the frame.The sound echoed through the foyer, satisfyingly loud, but it didn't do a damn thing to quell the fire raging in my chest.I will bankrupt you.Cole’s voice played on a loop in my head. The arrogance. The audacity.I marched into the living room and went straight for the bar cart, pouring myself a stiff scotch. My hands were shaking—not from fear, I told myself, but from pure, unadulterated rage.I hadn't expected to see Cole there. I had only gone there to retrieve the watch Zara had mentioned Sabrina stole, and he stood in my way.Cole Lander was supposed to be my friend. My business partner. The man who stood beside me at my wedding. And now? Now he was standing guard over my useless ex-wife like a feral dog, threatening to destroy my legacy over a woman I had already thrown in the trash."Leon?"I turned to see Zara lounging on the sofa, her hand resting protectively over her baby bump. She looked be