Three years with Ethan Hayes, and our relationship still came with a price list. Dinner: two thousand dollars. A date: ten thousand. One night in his bed: thirty thousand. Then one day, I found out I was pregnant. My brain took a few seconds to reboot. I stared at the man across from me, all aristocratic distance even in a hospital gown, and asked him point-blank: "Ethan, do you have a hundred million dollars?" 1 He was completely baffled. He was wearing an oversized, sterile-white patient gown, but it did nothing to diminish the sharp, handsome lines of his face. His dark eyes, intense and focused, locked onto me. "What's this about?" "Why are you asking that all of a sudden?" He let a slow, wicked grin spread across his lips, a look that seemed entirely too healthy for a sick man. "What, you want to work your way up to a hundred million?" "Ahem." I nearly choked on my own spit. "That's not what I meant, obviously. I mean…" The words what if I had your baby for a hundred million were right on the tip of my tongue, but then his expression shuttered. "If that's not what you meant, then drop it," he said, his voice clipped and cold. "There's nothing for us to talk about." That familiar, heartless indifference sent a chill through me. Right. How could I forget? Ethan Hayes was a devout member of the no-marriage, no-kids club. We’d agreed from day one: no messy feelings, no talk of love. This was purely a physical arrangement. If he found out about the baby… He’d assume I’d engineered the whole thing, a honey trap to secure a payday. Forget a hundred million; he'd probably demand I pay back every cent he'd ever given me. Better not. I silently tightened my grip on the clinic report tucked in my purse, making sure to keep it hidden behind my back. "Oh. It was nothing, then." Ethan didn't press the issue. He never had any real feelings for me anyway. He just needed someone to have dinner with. And to share his bed. But this month had been… inconvenient. His two-hundred-thousand-dollar quota for my time had already been maxed out by the middle of the month. So… As the man pinned me against the stiff hospital bed, his lips tracing a path down from my earlobe, my body went rigid. The moment his fingers grazed the top button of my blouse, a jolt of panic shot through me. I scrambled away from him, putting a good three feet of distance between us. "The monthly limit has been reached!" I announced, my voice a little too loud. "We can't do… that!" Ethan’s handsome face clouded over with irritation. He stared at me, his voice oozing with the casual arrogance of the ultra-rich. "I'll pay more." "No!" Pay more for what? So he could accidentally jeopardize the baby? For the first time in our arrangement, me, the girl who would do anything for money, said no. Ethan’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of suspicion in their depths. My heart hammered against my ribs. I blurted out the first lie that came to mind. "I'm… I'm not feeling well this month. And I'm swamped with work. The most I can do is keep you company while you're sick. Nothing else!" With that, I turned to leave, desperate to get away before he somehow discovered the secret I was hiding on my phone. His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. His voice was as cold and hard as ever. "So, the only way I can see you this month is if I'm sick?" I thought about Ethan’s year-round gym habit. The man was built like a bull. I nodded decisively. "That's right! Only when you're sick!" 2 A shadow passed over Ethan’s deep-set eyes. He looked like he was about to say something else, but just then, the doctor walked in, clipboard in hand. "Mr. Hayes, good news. It's just a common cold, probably from taking a cold shower in this weather. Nothing serious. You're clear for discharge." A cold shower? What kind of maniac takes a cold shower in the middle of winter? Was he nuts? I shot Ethan a look you’d give a complete idiot. I sent a silent prayer to the universe: please, let the baby inherit his father's looks. But for the love of God, not his brains. "Alright, you heard the man. You can go home," I said, backing toward the door. "So, let's just not see each other for the rest of the month, okay? See you next month, Mr. Hayes!" See him next month? Not if I could help it. I fled back to my apartment like a fugitive, frantically throwing a few things into a suitcase. I had to find somewhere to go, somewhere Ethan would never find me while I figured out this whole pregnancy thing. My best friend, Sarah, was stunned when I told her. "You're… you're just going to keep it? Just like that?" "Of course!" I said without a sliver of hesitation, stuffing another sweater into my already-full luggage. "You know my story. I grew up with no family, a total orphan. My whole plan was to save up enough money to go abroad, do IVF, and make a family for myself." I beamed. "Well, look at this! My little family just showed up ahead of schedule!" And with Ethan’s genes, the kid was guaranteed to be gorgeous. My mind made up, I pulled out my phone to book a flight—any flight out of here. Sarah still looked hesitant. "But the month isn't over yet. What if Ethan gets sick again and calls you?" "Not a chance," I said, waving a dismissive hand. "The guy's a beast. He works out every single day. There's no way he gets sick twice in one month…" Before the words were even out of my mouth, my phone rang. It was Ethan’s assistant. "Ms. Miller, good evening. Mr. Hayes has been admitted to the hospital again. He's asking if you could come by." As if sensing my hesitation, the assistant added, "This is, of course, within the terms of your monthly retainer. We would appreciate it if you could come promptly." Same hospital, same private suite. In the span of one week, I made the trip seven times. Yes. Once a day. Monday, it was a fever. Tuesday, another cold. Wednesday, he broke out in a rash. Thursday, he sprained his ankle… After a full week of this, I stood over the hospital bed, looking at the man who was now covered in a patchwork of bandages and minor injuries. For the first time, I began to seriously question the physical fortitude of this titan of industry. "Ethan," I began, "do you have an inner-ear problem? Maybe an issue with your motor skills?" How else could a man sprain his ankle three separate times just walking out the hospital doors? And dislocate his shoulder? Ethan’s eyes, cold and sharp, flicked up to meet mine. "Are you questioning my abilities?" "No," I said, speaking the honest truth. It wasn't his abilities I was questioning. It was his intelligence. Can stupidity be inherited? I wondered, my eyes scanning him from head to toe. My gaze unconsciously paused on a certain area— Suddenly, his hand shot out and yanked me forward. I stumbled, a gasp escaping my lips as his scent—clean, masculine, and overwhelmingly familiar—enveloped me. Before I could react, he cupped my chin, his mouth crashing down on mine in a brutal, possessive kiss. "Mmph—" The force of it was too much. I'd been fighting off waves of morning sickness for days, and the sudden movement sent a violent lurch through my stomach. I struggled, trying to push him away, but his grip only tightened, pinning me against him. He moved against my lips, his voice a low, guttural growl against my mouth. "You won't even let me touch you…" "Gag—!" And then it happened. I threw up. A splash of indeterminate liquid sprayed across the front of his pristine white hospital gown. He froze, his face a mask of pure fury. "Zoe Miller! Are you that disgusted by me? You actually threw up from a kiss!" 3 I couldn't explain. There was no way to explain. Looking at his furious expression, the undisguised revulsion in his beautiful eyes, an idea—a desperate, brilliant idea—flashed in my mind. "Yes!" I declared, my voice shaking but firm. "I'm sick of you! I don't want to play this game anymore! We're done!" Ethan didn't try to stop me. He just stared at me, his gaze cold and piercing, for a long, silent moment. Finally, he asked, his voice low and dangerous, "Zoe, are you sure you know what you're saying?" The deep, powerful timber of his voice was laced with a pressure that was almost physical. And then… Blech. I threw up again. This time, it was more violent, a series of heaves that felt like I was trying to turn myself inside out. Jeez. Ethan’s temper was explosive, and it looked like the baby had inherited it. I was so consumed by my own misery that I didn't see the flash of raw hurt in Ethan’s eyes. By the time I could breathe again, he was gone. Only his assistant remained, holding out a sleek, black credit card. "Ms. Miller, Mr. Hayes asked me to give you this. He said it's a severance payment." A titan to the very end. Even his breakups were generous. But… As I watched his silhouette—limping slightly, impossibly lonely—disappear down the long, sterile corridor, a strange ache bloomed in my chest. "Honey, you're in love with him." Sarah’s voice was matter-of-fact from the passenger seat of the taxi speeding toward the airport. "No way," I retorted, clutching my stomach as another wave of nausea rolled over me. I took a sip of water, forcing it down. "It's a business transaction, that's all! How could I possibly be in love with him?" Sarah just shrugged. "No need to get defensive. It's obvious he's into you, too." "Why else would he give you a black card?" "Because he has more money than he knows what to do with!" My heart gave a painful thud. Ethan likes me? Impossible. "Don't be ridiculous," I said, trying to ignore the sour knot of sadness in my gut. "He's never been anything but cold to me. How could that be love? Besides, everyone knows about his college girlfriend, the great lost love of his life. They say he's never gotten over her. He couldn't possibly fall for someone like me." I bit my lip, a sadness I couldn't name welling up inside me. Sarah sighed. "I don't know what kind of soap opera you two are starring in, but I bet you if you called him right now, he'd come running." Me, call Ethan? You've got to be kidding. In three years, I had never once initiated a call. He was always too busy. He wouldn't pick up. And besides… I rested a hand on my still-flat stomach. "I'm about to leave this city for good," I murmured. "We'll never see each other again…" My words were cut short by the deafening screech of tires and a massive, violent impact. My world tilted sideways, then went black. 4 I woke up in a hospital. As my eyes fluttered open, a young nurse holding a chart beamed at me. "You are so incredibly lucky. It was a huge accident, but you just have a small scrape on your forehead and a minor concussion. No other injuries." She leaned in conspiratorially, her eyes shining. "Your boyfriend was so worried, though. He insisted we run a full battery of tests. Seriously, where did you find a guy who's that handsome and that devoted?" Boyfriend? Who? Did I have one of those? I was still trying to process her words when Ethan strode into the room. He looked like he’d been through a war. His usually immaculate overcoat was smudged with dirt, and his deep eyes were locked on me with an intensity that felt like it could pull me under. The boyfriend… she couldn't possibly mean him, could she? The nurse turned to him. "See? The test results are all back. I told you your girlfriend was perfectly fine." The test results? A jolt of pure ice shot through my veins. I stared at him, my mind racing. Oh God, please don't let him know. Please. The tests were for the crash, not for… not for inside stuff, right? I prayed, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. But my hope was shattered by the low, cold timber of his voice. "Zoe Miller, you've got some nerve." He took a step closer, his shadow falling over me. "Thinking you could run away with my child?"
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