All Chapters of PREGNANT BY THE CEO: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

My daughter found the interview. She wasn’t pissed. She was something worse, quiet and lost. I knocked on her open door. She looked up, then scooted over on the bed like she didn’t trust her own voice. I sat down on the bed, and the room felt heavy, like the air itself was waiting.“You read it?” she asked.“Not yet, honey, send it over.”She sent it, and I scrolled through on my phone while she stared at my face. It was an old article from five years back. The reporter slipped the question in at the end. Sebastian paused. Long enough, they wrote it down. Then he said it flat out, “I don’t know. That’s an honest answer. I genuinely don’t know.”No clean denial. Just that, I read it again. My throat got tight. “He’s been living with that ‘I don’t know’ for sixteen years,” Isla said, voice low. “He could’ve stayed quiet. Nobody forced him to say shit. But he did.”“Yeah.” The word scraped out.“I kept waiting for the anger to come. It would’ve been easier, you know? It could've been

Isla had heard every word that night. The next morning, she was already sitting at the breakfast table when I walked in, waiting like she had made up her mind hours ago.She wasn’t standing at the counter eating cereal the way she usually did. Proper seat, back straight. She had been thinking hard.“This week,” she said the second I sat down with my coffee.“Isla…”“I heard what he said at the door.” Her voice was flat and honest. “I’ve been patient my whole damn life, Mom. I want to meet him. This week.”I looked at my daughter, sixteen, calm as hell, asking for the one thing that actually made sense, and remembered Sebastian standing in my doorway the night before, saying he had been sorry every single day before he walked away.“Saturday,” I said.She nodded once. Like she knew that was coming.-----I texted him later that morning. ‘ Saturday, at the coffee shop. Just you and Isla. I’ll send the address.’His reply popped up almost instantly: ‘I’ll be there. Thank you, Naomi.’I d

Victor had gone public. He said my daughter’s name was in a goddamn press conference, and I figured I had about three hours before this whole thing exploded, and I couldn’t put it back in the box.I pulled over on a quiet side street and sat there in the car for exactly ninety seconds. Not to pull myself together, just to feel it. The hot spike of fury. The colder fear underneath it, that had nothing to do with my company or my reputation and everything to do with my sixteen-year-old kid, who had spent her morning meeting her father for the first time and was now somewhere out there with her name already getting tossed around like trash on the news.Ninety seconds. Then I grabbed my phone. My lawyer picked up on the first ring.“I’m watching it,” she said, no hello, straight in. “He went way further than the filing. Three statements we can actually go after. We need to hit back before this shit sticks.” Her voice was clipped and urgent. “I need a public statement from you, facts onl

Diana knew about Isla for six years and said nothing to her own son. The fragile grace I had been extending to her snapped back like a wire pulled too tight. It was ten minutes after she left when the full weight of it finally crashed over me.I sat still at my desk and let the truth land raw, refusing to soften or shrink it. Six years. The number refused to diminish. The original sixteen I had slowly made peace with, the forged transfer, my mother’s misguided protection, the entire architecture Victor had built. Those now had names. Sharp, and defined shapes I could grasp.But Diana had known for six years. She learned the truth two years after the investigator’s report and chose silence every single day afterward. She had sat beside Sebastian during that interview, listening as he said, “I don’t know. That’s an honest answer. I genuinely don’t know.” All while carrying the truth inside her like a hidden blade.She had come to my apartment, spoken of the man she loved before Victor

Victor kept the forgery for a whole sixteen years. The same lie that once shattered my life was being dragged out again, and this time I would have to face it down in public, under lights, with witnesses. The thought sat like a cold stone in my stomach.I called Sebastian that evening. Not because I needed him to fix it, Patricia and I had already built the counterstrike before I even hung up the first call. I called because he deserved to hear it from me first. Because somewhere in these last few weeks, I’d learned the difference between choosing to tell someone and being forced to.He picked up on the second ring."Victor is making another move," I said, voice steadier than I felt. "The original forged transfer. He kept it all this time. He’s going to claim the copy was tampered with and the original is legitimate, he'll try to sell the same old story that I was paid to disappear."Silence. Not the soft kind. This one had edges…sharp, focused, already calculating."When did you find