The Billionaire Waitress
Justin whispered, his hand squeezing mine, his touch electric, steadying my trembling nerves as we faced the host, her smile polished but predatory, her eyes glinting with curiosity.
“The ultrasound was a fabrication,” I said, my voice steady, my nurse’s calm a fragile mask over the turmoil churning inside. “Xiamond manipulated a private post to hurt us. There’s no pregnancy.” The lie scorched my throat, our baby’s existence a sacred secret known only to Justin, Sarah, and me. I’m betraying our child to protect it, I thought, my hand twitching toward my stomach, hidden beneath the blazer. The host leaned in, her questions sharp, probing, but Justin took over, his tech charm a shield. “This i
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