Pregnant by Her Best Friend Brother

The love of my life was going to marry my older half-sister. That single thought had been repeating in my head like a broken record all night. Alexander Sterling, the man I had loved since I was a little girl, was going to belong to Vanessa Morgan. My own sister. I had foolishly hoped it would be me one day. That maybe, just maybe, he would notice me. But life was never kind to the daughter of a mistress. Tonight, I wanted to forget. I needed to erase him from my mind, even if it was only for a few hours. The world spun around me as I stumbled through the dimly lit hallway of the luxurious hotel. My heels clicked unsteadily on the marble floor. I had drunk far too much, but the alcohol still wasn’t enough to dull the sharp pain in my chest. I swayed dangerously and suddenly bumped into a tall, hard chest. Strong hands immediately grabbed my waist, steadying me before I could fall. “Careful,” a deep, husky voice said. I looked up through my blurred vision. The man in front of m

After the engagement party finally began winding down, Emily Sterling stepped out of the grand hall, her heels clicking sharply against the marble stairs. She was still fuming, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Alexander was standing near the entrance, talking on his phone. The moment he saw his younger sister walking down the stairs, he ended the call abruptly and slid his phone into his pocket. “Emily,” he called out. “I’m heading home. Let’s go together.” Emily stopped on the stairs and glared at him. “I don’t want to go home with you. I’m still mad at you.” Alexander let out a tired sigh and walked toward her. “Are you still holding onto that little comment I made about Victoria?” Emily’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Little comment? You humiliated my best friend in front of everyone! You have no idea how hurt she was.” “I only said what was true,” Alexander replied coldly. “She’s an opportunistic person. I’ve seen her throwing herself at men for money and favors. Yo

The furniture arrived while I was sitting on the floor scrolling through clinic listings on my phone.I had been at it for almost twenty minutes, cycling through the same three search results, reading the same brief descriptions without really taking any of them in. The apartment was empty except for my two suitcases and the sound of the city coming through the window I had cracked open this morning, and I was trying to be very practical and very clear-headed about the whole thing.Aldenvale Women's Health Clinic. Confidential services. No referral required.I clicked on it. Closed it. Opened it again.The knock at the door pulled me out of it.I wasn't expecting anyone. I wasn't expecting anything. But when I opened the door there were two women in the hallway in matching grey uniforms, and behind them, visible through the open elevator doors, were a sofa and a coffee table and what looked like a bed frame wrapped in moving blankets."Miss Morgan?" one of them said, checking a clipbo

The morning passed slowly. Around me, the studio operated the way it always did, with the particular focused energy of people who knew exactly what they were doing and where they needed to be. The designer two desks over was spread across her workspace with fabric swatches and color boards, making notes in a sketchbook without looking up. The two men near the window were going back and forth over a scaled floor plan laid flat between them, one of them occasionally reaching over to tap a specific point on it. Someone was on the phone in the corner speaking quietly about load-bearing specifications. I sat at my desk and watched all of it and waited to be given something to do. Lucas had not called for me since I arrived. His office light was on. Through the glass, I could occasionally see him moving, sitting, standing at the board on his wall, but his door stayed closed, and my landline stayed quiet, and I was beginning to develop a very specific anxiety about whether being ignored w

The car was black, and the driver said nothing and I sat in the back and watched the city move past the window. My graduation gown was still on. I hadn't thought to take it off.My phone buzzed against my leg.I pulled it out. An email notification from the Chen Studio application portal. I had been checking it for three months. Every few days, sometimes more, always the same blank status page telling me my application was under review.I opened it.Thank you for your application to Chen Studio. After careful review, we regret to inform you that your submission did not progress past the vetting stage. We encourage you to reapply in the future.I read it twice.Then I put the phone face down on my knee and looked out the window.I had started building that portfolio in my first year. The unpaid internships. The weekend workshops. The competitions I hadn't won but had entered anyway because entering was practice. The paper on Lucas Chen's spatial philosophy that had gotten the highest m