Pregnant With His Baby When My Don Married Another

On the night of our anniversary, my fiancé, Don Vincent, pressed me hard against the cold glass of his penthouse window. He roughly hiked up my dress, his large hands gripping my bare hips. With one forceful, possessive thrust, he drove himself deep inside me. His hot breath scorched my neck, making me feel completely, utterly his. But the second we crashed from that blinding high, the illusion shattered. He pulled out of me, stepping back to casually adjust his suit. "Baby, fucking you is addictive. But our wedding... I'm not going." I froze, stunned. "What do you mean?" He chuckled, casually lighting a cigarette. "I've set my sights on Isla, the princess of the Irish Vance Family. She's not exactly the mistress type. We signed the papers at the courthouse this morning." "As her legal husband, she'd get jealous if I threw a public wedding with another woman." My ears rang. My voice trembled uncontrollably. "Why? Our wedding is in a week..." His tone was apologetic, almost innocent. "Baby, I made you who you are. You know I love you the most. But the Family needs to expand." "If you don't want to cancel the wedding, just find some idiot to stand at the altar with you. Don't be too hard on yourself." I stared at the face I had loved for years. My heart turned to absolute ash. Shaking, I shoved the pregnancy test results deep into my pocket. He was right. I shouldn't be hard on myself. Leaving his office, I took out my burner phone and dialed another man's number. Just as he wished, I would vanish from his world forever. …… Vincent slapped my ass like nothing happened, carrying me into the bathroom like he always did. He set me on the vanity, but his next words made my blood run cold. "That little Irish princess, Isla? I've been chasing her for six months. She finally gave in yesterday. Right here in this bathroom, I finally fucked her." Following his satisfied gaze, my eyes snapped to the mirror. Overlapping, suggestive handprints were crystal clear on the glass. The image of that haughty Irish princess pinned against this mirror exploded in my mind. My stomach violently churned. I gripped the edge of the sink, my eyes burning red. He told me once. He built this bathroom for me. It was only meant for me. He cupped my bloodless face, a frown of confusion forming between his brows. "Why are you crying? I married her, but you can still stay by my side." His deep, affectionate eyes reflected only me. As if he wasn't the same man who just casually announced his marriage to someone else. A tearing sense of absurdity washed over me. The air grew thin, and I was suffocating. He finally let out a helpless sigh. "I know you're upset. But I need her family's shipping routes. I'll buy you a penthouse. I'll still come see you. Be a good girl, okay?" Six months... Six months ago, on my birthday, he said he wanted to give me a wedding. A real title. I felt so lucky. I watched him prepare the island wedding I always wanted. The flowers. The invitations. But behind my back, he was desperately courting another woman. I closed my eyes. Tears fell uncontrollably. "Vincent," my voice sounded dry and numb. "We're done." He froze for a second. Then, he laughed out loud. "Done?" He grabbed my shoulders. "Alessia, what are you talking about? I pulled you out of the gutter when you were eighteen. For ten years, you've gathered intel for me, killed for me, taken bullets for me, even lost a child for me. How could you ever leave me?" I stared at him. My heart felt like it was rolling over red-hot coals. I had been with him for ten years. From assassin to lover, then to fiancée. We once hid in a shipping container at the docks during a rival family's attack, splitting a stale crust of bread. I took a bullet for him. That bullet cost me our first child. That night, he knelt by my bed with red eyes, carving an "A" into his own chest. "Alessia, my heart and my future are yours. You're my only woman. We'll have another baby." I had carved that heavy promise deeply into my own soul, too. But now, he shattered those vows without a second thought. I just couldn't understand. He loved me so fiercely. How could he betray me so easily? A second later, the phone on the desk rang. A familiar, custom ringtone. It had gone off many times in the middle of the night. Vincent always said it was for a "crucial ally". Now I realized how stupid I was. What kind of crucial ally would call him every time they felt lonely late at night? He didn't pick up right away. He just looked at me calmly. "Alessia. I told you I love you. You're the sharpest tool I have. I won't throw away ten years of history. But right now, there is a more important woman." He turned and walked out to put on his shirt. "You can never be the future Donna. Clean yourself up. I need to go get my wife." The office door slammed shut. I stood there. Warm liquid was still running down my thighs. I let the showerhead run, washing away the traces he left inside me, washing away the tears on my face. When I finally got dressed, I reached into my pocket and felt the pregnancy test. Eight weeks pregnant. I had wanted to tell him tonight. I imagined he'd hold me tight, promising to protect our baby this time. Clearly, I was completely delusional. It wasn't until I left the Devaro Family's building that the true emptiness crashed into my chest, and I dialed an encrypted number. Since he had another woman by his side, I would vanish from his world forever.