Sophia Hart

It had been exactly one week since I slept with the devil on that freezing fire exit.

Seven long days since Ethan Blackwell had taken what he wanted and walked away as though nothing had happened.

No phone call. No text. No acknowledgment. Nothing. Christmas was supposed to feel warm and hopeful-filled with laughter, family, and a little bit of magic. Instead, a heavy sense of dread sat in my chest like a stone that refused to move.

I sat beside my mother's hospital bed, forcing a smile as I held her frail hand in mine. The steady beeping of the monitors filled the dimly lit room. The scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, mixing with the faint sound of Christmas music drifting from somewhere down the corridor.

Mom looked so fragile beneath the crisp white sheets. Cancer had stolen so much from her. The woman who once filled every room with life now seemed smaller, weaker.

Yet she still smiled at me. Still worried about me. I spent the next few minutes chatting about meaningless things-the Christmas lights decorating the streets outside, a funny commercial I'd seen earlier, anything that might distract her from the reality of her condition.

Then my phone buzzed. The sound shattered the fragile peace. I glanced at the screen. My stomach dropped instantly.

From: Ethan Blackwell

Subject: Q4 Reports – Revision Needed

Attachment: Q4_Financials_Revised_Draft.pdf (43 Pages)

A bitter laugh escaped me. Of course. Even during Christmas weekend, Ethan Blackwell couldn't stop working. Or making everyone around him work.

He was a billionaire CEO who demanded perfection at all times. And I was merely his secretary. His secretary who had made the mistake of sleeping with him.

Mom squeezed my hand gently. "Sophia, honey, you work too hard," she said softly. "That boss of yours is going to run you into the ground. It's Christmas, for heaven's sake. Put the phone away and spend some time with your old mother."

I slipped the phone into my handbag and forced another smile.

"The salary is good, Mom. It helps with everything." The lie tasted bitter.

My bank account held barely three thousand dollars. Her latest treatments had already pushed the medical bills past eighty thousand dollars, and the numbers kept climbing every week.

I had no idea how much longer I could keep everything together. But she didn't need to know that. Not now. Not ever. Mom studied me quietly.

Then she asked the question I'd been dreading. "Have you heard from your father?"

My gaze dropped to the floor. "No," I said. "I haven't seen him in days."

Guilt twisted inside me. I couldn't bring myself to tell her the truth. I couldn't tell her about the debt collectors. Or the threats. Or the possibility that my father could be arrested because of the gambling debts he had buried us beneath. So I stayed a little longer. I talked. I smiled. I pretended.

When I finally stood to leave, I kissed her forehead and promised I would return tomorrow. The moment I stepped outside her room, the smile vanished.

A black town car waited at the curb exactly where I had arranged for it. I climbed into the back seat without saying much.

The driver didn't ask questions. I gave him the address of the hospital billing office and stared out the window for the entire journey. The city blurred past in a sea of Christmas lights. Beautiful. Festive. Completely indifferent to my problems.

At the billing office, I handed over my card and paid what little I could. Another painful chunk of my savings disappeared. Another temporary solution to a problem that refused to go away.

When I left, the cold winter air hit my face like a slap. For a moment, I simply stood there. Alone. Exhausted. Terrified.

Back at my apartment, I locked the door and leaned against it. Silence greeted me. The kind of silence that made every anxious thought louder.

I couldn't avoid it any longer. My heart pounded as I walked to the bathroom and opened the drawer. Inside were four pregnancy tests. I bought them two days ago. I hadn't found the courage to use them. Until now.

With trembling hands, I removed the tests from their packaging and followed the instructions. Afterward, I lined them up neatly on the counter. Then I waited.

Three minutes. Only three minutes.

Yet it felt like an eternity.

I stared at the cracked ceiling above me.

My thoughts spiraled. Back to that night. Back to the fire exit. Back to the mistake that had changed everything. The torn protection. The reckless choices. The consequences are waiting to catch up with me.

My pulse thundered in my ears.

When the timer on my phone finally beeped, I froze. For several seconds, I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. Then, slowly, I lowered my gaze to the counter. The world seemed to stop.

Two pink lines. On the first test. Two pink lines. On the second. The third. The fourth. Every single one. Positive. The room tilted.

My knees nearly gave out beneath me.

A strangled sound escaped my throat.

"No..."

The word came out as little more than a whisper. I stared at the tests. Then stared some more, hoping the lines would somehow disappear.

They didn't. I pressed a trembling hand against my stomach. Pregnant. I was pregnant.

And the father was Ethan Blackwell.

"Shit," I whispered, tears filling my eyes.

"What have I done?"

Sophia Hart

I hailed a taxi the moment I stepped out of my apartment building. The yellow cab pulled over with a screech of tires, and I slipped into the back seat.

The interior smelled like stale coffee and old air freshener. I barely noticed. My mind was somewhere else entirely. For the third time in ten minutes, I rummaged through my handbag, pushing aside lip gloss, crumpled receipts, tissues, and loose coins.

My fingers searched desperately for the USB drive containing Ethan Blackwell's revised Q4 reports. Please be here.

Please. Relief washed through me when my fingers finally closed around the tiny device. Thank God.

If I had left it on my kitchen counter, I would have been finished. Not figuratively.

Actually finished. Working for Ethan Blackwell meant mistakes weren't tolerated. Especially expensive mistakes.

I leaned back against the worn leather seat and stared out the window. Every day, I told myself I should quit. Every single day. Then reality reminded me why I couldn't.

Before Blackwell Enterprises, I'd worked as a cleaner in a furniture warehouse.

The pay had barely covered groceries.

There weren't many opportunities waiting for people like me. Not without connections. Not without powerful family members. Not without degrees from elite universities. The world rewarded privilege.

Everyone else fought for scraps.

At least this job paid enough to keep my mother in a hospital bed instead of leaving her untreated. At least Leo could stay in school. My little brother deserved more than the life we'd been given.

So I endured Ethan Blackwell. Because I didn't have a choice. The taxi finally pulled up in front of Blackwell Enterprises.

The massive glass building towered above the city like a monument to wealth and power. I paid the driver and climbed out.

The moment my feet touched the pavement, a familiar voice called my name.

"Sophia!"

I froze. Of course. Emeka.

I turned to find him jogging toward me with his usual easy smile. He worked in accounting and had been flirting with me for nearly a year. Despite my repeated attempts to discourage him.

"You look amazing today," he said.

I forced a polite smile. "Good morning, Emeka."

His grin widened. "No, seriously. You're glowing."

I nearly choked. Glowing? If only he knew. I hadn't slept properly in days. I was drowning in debt. My mother was battling cancer. And I had discovered I was pregnant with my billionaire boss's child.

Glowing was the last word I would have used.

"You should keep doing whatever you're doing," Emeka continued. "It's working."

I laughed nervously. "I'll keep that in mind."

Before he could continue, my phone vibrated.

The notification appeared instantly. Ethan Blackwell Come to my office. Immediately.

My stomach dropped. Immediately. Never a good sign.

"I have to go," I said quickly.

Emeka looked disappointed.

"Maybe lunch later?" "We'll see."

Which was my usual way of saying no.

Without waiting for a response, I hurried into the building.

The elevator ride felt unusually long. I stood alone inside the mirrored cabin as floor numbers flashed above the doors.

Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Each second stretched endlessly. My palms grew damp. Did he know?

The thought wouldn't leave me alone. Had he somehow found out? No. Impossible. Nobody knew. Not even my mother. Not even Leo. Just me. And four pregnancy tests hidden in my bathroom trash.

The elevator finally stopped. The doors slid open. I stepped onto the executive floor. The receptionist nodded politely as I passed.

A few moments later, I stood outside Ethan's office. I knocked once.

"Come in." His voice was calm. Cold. Controlled. Just like always. I pushed the door open.

Ethan sat behind his enormous desk. The morning sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, casting the city skyline in gold. Without looking up, he gestured toward the chair opposite him.

"Sit."

I obeyed. Silence filled the room. Ethan continued reviewing documents as though I weren't there. One minute passed. Then two. Then five.

The tension became unbearable. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. Finally, he set his pen down. His gray eyes lifted to meet mine. For some reason, that felt worse.

"Sophia."

The way he said my name made my stomach tighten.

"Yes, Mr. Blackwell?"

"I need a favor."

I blinked. A favor? That wasn't what I expected.

"What kind of favor?"

His expression remained unreadable. Businesslike. Emotionless.

As if he were discussing quarterly profits.

"I need a wife."

For a moment, I wondered if I'd heard him correctly. My brain simply stopped working.

"What?"

"I need a wife," he repeated.

My mouth opened. Then closed. Then it opened again. Nothing came out. Ethan leaned back in his chair.

"My grandfather's will contains certain conditions regarding my inheritance and control of the company."

I stared at him. Still unable to process what was happening.

"If I am not married before my thirtieth birthday, I lose voting control."

The room felt strangely small. "You want me to help you find someone?"

"No."

His answer came immediately. My pulse quickened. "No?"

His gaze locked onto mine. "I want you to marry me."

The world stopped. Every sound disappeared. Every thought vanished. I could only stare at him. Surely this was some kind of joke. But Ethan Blackwell didn't joke. Ever.

"I can't marry you."

The words escaped before I could stop them. His expression didn't change.

"You can."

"No."

"You will be compensated."

I almost laughed. Compensated. As though marriage were another business transaction. Maybe to him it was.

"I said no."

For the first time, something dangerous flickered in his eyes. Not anger. Determination.

"The contract includes ten million dollars." My breath caught. Ten million. The number hit me like a physical blow. Ten million dollars. Enough to pay every hospital bill. Enough to clear my father's debts. Enough to secure Leo's future. Enough to save my family.

Ethan folded his hands together. "Think carefully before you answer."

I sat frozen in the chair. Terrified. Conflicted. Trapped. Because for the first time in my life, the solution to all my problems was sitting directly across from me. And he looked exactly like the devil.

My devil. And he had just made it official.