Accidentally Pregnant With The Billionaire Heir

EMILY

A lie is simply a shield built by a coward.

I sit at the polished mahogany table in the private breakfast atrium of the Wolfe Estate. The morning sun warms the side of my face, but the air between Alistair and me remains incredibly tense. I just laid my cards on the table. I exposed his fabricated story about leaving the essential oil in a hotel room in the Ruyao Empire. I asked him a direct, inescapable question, and I wait for him to construct another elaborate corporate defense.

Alistair does not look away. He does not reach for his digital tablet to feign distraction.

He slowly rests his hands flat on the white linen tablecloth. His long fingers are perfectly still. The formidable, untouchable CEO of the Wolfe Empire looks completely exposed.

"I lied because I was afraid, Emily," Alistair states. His voice is quiet, lacking all of its usual commanding authority.

I blink in genuine surprise. I expected anger. I expected a harsh dismissal. I absolutely did not expect a confession of fear.

"When you sat on the edge of the mattress and asked me for the bottle, I panicked," Alistair continues, his dark eyes locking onto mine with absolute sincerity. "I had already thrown it away. I knew how much time you spent grinding those herbs and formulating that specific recipe. I realized in that exact second how incredibly arrogant and destructive my actions were. I feared you would be furiously angry with me if you knew the truth."

He lets out a slow, heavy breath, dropping his gaze to the table for a brief moment before looking back up.

"I also confess a severe lack of tactical awareness on my part," Alistair adds, a self-deprecating edge bleeding into his tone. "I completely failed to realize you were testing me. I assumed it was a genuine inquiry. I fabricated the hotel story to protect my pride and avoid your wrath. It was a cowardly decision."

The raw, unfiltered honesty completely disarms me.

He is stripping away his own armor. The man who dictates global financial markets is sitting across from me, admitting he lied because he could not handle the prospect of my disappointment.

A wave of sheepish guilt washes over my own conscience. I am not an innocent victim in this conflict. I actively participated in the escalation.

"I was not entirely sure you threw it away on purpose at first," I admit, lowering my voice. I trace the rim of my crystal water glass with my index finger, suddenly feeling incredibly foolish. "I thought perhaps the housekeeping staff knocked it off the counter. I thought it might have been a simple accident."

I look up, meeting his steady gaze.

"But when I found it sitting at the very bottom of the wastebasket, hidden under the other debris, I knew it was intentional," I explain, feeling a flush of heat rise in my cheeks. "I was furious. You hurt my pride, so I wanted to hurt yours. I marched out to the lounge and placed your custom leather gloves right in the center of the sofa. It was a spiteful, childish reaction. I should have simply confronted you."

Alistair watches me closely. A very faint, entirely unexpected trace of a smile touches the corners of his mouth.

He reaches inside the inner breast pocket of his tailored navy blue suit jacket. He pulls his hand out and places a small bundle of dark material directly onto the white tablecloth.

It is the pair of black leather combat gloves.

I stare at the reinforced knuckles and the intricate stitching. He kept them. He did not throw them into the incinerator or hand them off to his security detail.

Then, Alistair reaches into his opposite pocket. He withdraws his hand and sets a second object on the table, right next to the expensive leather.

A small, dark brown glass vial.

My breath catches in my throat. I stare at the tiny bottle of valerian root essential oil. The blank paper label is slightly crumpled, bearing a faint smudge of dirt from the wastebasket, but the glass is completely intact.

"You kept it," I whisper, unable to hide my absolute shock.

"I retrieved it from the steel wastebasket in our suite," Alistair confirms softly. "After you went to sleep, I stood in the dark and pulled it out of the trash. I realized exactly what you had done. You set the trap, and I walked right into it."

He slides the leather gloves and the small glass bottle across the polished wood, pushing them toward my side of the table.

"I apologize again, Emily," Alistair says, his voice carrying the weight of a solemn vow. "I let my frustration dictate my actions. I discarded a thoughtful gift, and I insulted your intelligence by lying about it. I promise you, on my honor, it will never happen again."

𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

I look at the items resting near my silver fork. The physical evidence of our mutual stubbornness sits right in front of me. I reach out and pick up the small brown bottle. The glass feels cool against my skin. I slip it into the pocket of my black skirt, accepting the peace offering.

The heavy, toxic atmosphere of the ten-day cold war completely vanishes. The air feels clear and breathable.

Alistair picks up his porcelain coffee cup. He takes a slow sip, his dark eyes studying my face over the rim.

"We need to discuss another matter," Alistair says smoothly, lowering the cup. "The night I returned from my business trip in Aethelred. You were sleeping in the bed before I arrived. You experienced a severe nightmare."

Every single muscle in my body goes rigid.

The memory hits me with terrifying clarity. I remember the suffocating panic of that dream. I remember thrashing against the sheets, trapped in a hallucination of my father locking me inside that dark, freezing storage room. I remember waking up to find Alistair standing over the bed, his large hands gripping my shoulders, trying to pull me out of the terror.

I refuse to discuss my trauma with him. The truce we just established is fragile. Handing him the keys to my deepest psychological scars is a vulnerability I cannot afford.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," I say. I force my voice to remain perfectly flat and unbothered. "I sleep very soundly. You must be confusing me with someone else."

Alistair raises a dark eyebrow. He clearly recognizes the blatant lie. He knows I am deflecting, but he also possesses enough tact to realize pushing the issue will instantly resurrect my defensive walls.

I immediately pivot the conversation to regain control of the narrative.

"Speaking of the morning schedule," I say briskly, grabbing my linen napkin and placing it on the table. "You explicitly commanded me to wait for you. You insisted we come downstairs together. Why did you require my presence this morning?"