Pregnant: The Billionaire Werewolf's Claim

I hadn’t had a sex life with my husband for over six months.

The thought of it sent a wave of frustration through me. Absentmindedly, I ran my fingers over the freshly curled ends of my hair, took a deep breath, and forced myself to focus on work. I exhaled slowly, smoothing the ends of my freshly curled hair, willing myself to focus on work.

"Lilith, you can do this!" I muttered under my breath, scanning the endless emails cluttering my inbox. Another late night at the office loomed, but I was determined to reclaim my weekend.

It was a week before Christmas. After working overtime for half a month straight, I had been looking forward to some well-deserved rest. But my department boss, in a misguided attempt at team bonding, had decided on a mandatory retreat—an all-expenses-paid weekend at a hot spring resort.

Losing my weekend to work-related team bonding didn’t sound great, but at least the company was covering the bill.

Curiosity got the better of me after dinner, and I pulled up the resort’s website. A single night’s stay, including access to the hot springs, costs around 500 CHF—almost 570 US dollars.

The pictures showed breathtaking views of the mountains, a picturesque town dusted with snow, and steaming pools under a starry sky.

I glanced at my husband. Jimmy sat hunched over his computer, headphones clamped over his ears, fingers clicking away at his mechanical keyboard.

It has beautiful scenery, and I never thought I could spend my holidays here with my husband. It must be a five-star luxury resort! I continue to look at the hotel website, this boutique and beautifully located town in the Swiss Alps.

Excitement bubbled up in me as I turned to my husband. “We should spend Christmas here! Just the two of us!”

He didn’t respond. Headphones on, eyes glued to his screen, he was too immersed in his game to even notice I had spoken.

Not that I was surprised; this was routine by now.

I sighed and reached for my phone. If we were going to a luxury resort, I would need something special to wear. Maybe—just maybe—this trip could rekindle something between us.

Lately, Jimmy has been staying up late gaming with his online friends, only crawling into bed around 1 or 2 a.m., long after I had already fallen asleep. This trip could be our chance to reconnect.

Bikini or a sheer long dress? Or maybe a high-slit one-piece? I hesitated but didn’t bother asking Jimmy. He was still on Discord, chatting away with his friends. The last thing I wanted was for them to overhear our conversation.

My eyes landed on a sleek black bodysuit. A one-piece with a plunging cut down to the waist.

"Our iconic Orla bodysuit is reimagined as a swimsuit. Combining premium sheer mesh paneling creates a sculpted silhouette…"

Perfect. I added it to my cart and checked out.

Still humming to myself, I walked over to the full-length mirror in our bedroom. My long, chestnut waves framed my face, cascading down my back in soft curls.

Too bad he doesn’t like it. Jimmy preferred short, playful hair—something that made a woman look “cute.”

Maybe worthless men just want their partner who looks like a little girl, not a woman with presence. The thought was bitter, but it comforted me.

At 5’8, I towered over my husband’s 5’6' frame. He never failed to find ways to cut me down, he never outright complained about it, but his actions spoke volumes. He made subtle jabs, teasing me about my heels, standing on his toes in photos, making backhanded comments that chipped away at me over time. As if cutting me down could make him feel bigger.

The fact is, I don't really mind the height, he is the one who always thinks of it.

I sighed, suddenly losing all interest in the online shopping for the resort trip. Crawling into bed alone, I let the sounds of his FPS game fill the silence. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and I drifted off into sleep.

A strange thought lingered in my mind.

In my dream, I dreamed that I was wearing that sexy bathing suit, and I felt thirsty and horny.

And it wasn’t my husband I was longing for.