His Surprise Baby

by Valentine, Layla

  This complicates things dramatically, not to mention potentially endangering Charlotte’s health. I don’t know how this happened; short of fertility supplements, I can’t imagine triplets are particularly common.

  Charlotte looks as surprised as I am. However, some moments later, she has an expression of realization and resignation.

  “Three. Three children. How…” I manage, shifting over to the bed where Charlotte’s trying to wipe the ultrasound gel off.

  Seeming to sense the rising tension in the room, the nurse excuses herself politely. For her part, Charlotte shrugs rather noncommittally and I can’t help feeling as if she knows something I don’t. I reach out to touch her shoulder, and she looks at me from the corner of her eye.

  “How can you be so calm? This isn’t what we agreed on,” I demand, sounding somewhat more accusing than I’d intended.

  Her eyes narrow dangerously, and she slaps my hand away.

  “Don’t raise your voice at me,” she snaps, and before I can apologize, she’s speaking again. “Multiple births run in my family. I have a twin sister, and my grandma has a twin as well. While triplets certainly aren’t as common…” She trails off, looking stressed.

  I brace myself against the examination table, staring at the now-blank ultrasound screen. What I’ve seen is unmistakable—three tiny and distinct hearts steadily beating along.

  “I only wanted one heir,” I begin, trying not to sound as uncertain as I feel.

  Anger darkens her eyes, with tears simultaneously pricking the corners. I’m not sure if she’s going to cry or lash out at me, and I hesitantly take a step back. I have no idea how to process the news, and her immediate angry reaction is only serving to upset me in turn.

  “You should have told me about this family…quirk of yours. I wanted one child. Not three,” I continue.

  “Well, you wanted one heir for one million dollars. Now, you get three for three million,” she says icily.

  Fury surges up within me, and I cross my arms over my chest, leveling her with a glare.

  “You know that’s not how this works, Charlotte. You’re being ridiculous,” I hiss, trying to keep the bite out of my tone.

  I’m not particularly successful, judging by the wounded expression on her face. She rests her hand on her stomach, its noticeably larger-than-average swelling finally making sense. Drawing her lip between her teeth, for a brief moment, it appears she may apologize. A single tear trickles down her cheek, and I part my lips to try to calm the situation.

  “The contract was for one million dollars per child. It’s only fair that you pay the three million. You’re not the one ruining your body in the process. You’re not the one—” she begins, but I’m quick to interrupt.

  “You’re not the one raising them, Charlotte! As far as the contract, it was clearly written for one million dollars upon the provision of a single heir. The way I see it, the contract is null and void,” I shout, anger lancing through my being.

  She looks shocked by my outburst, and truthfully, I can’t say I’m proud of myself. We’re too far gone for apologies at this point, however. If she insists on making this about money, I fully intend to enforce her contractual obligations.

  “I actually thought you cared about me,” she whispers, quickly pulling her clothes back on.

  I can’t help but roll my eyes, fumbling in my pocket for my phone as it begins to vibrate.

  “You’ve made it abundantly clear how you feel about me, Charlotte. We didn’t enter this contract under the pretense of having feelings for each other. I made it very clear that I have no desire for any sort of baggage. I wouldn’t go developing feelings for a woman who has gone out of her way to try and ruin me,” I say coldly, my heart breaking a bit at my own words.

  While it’s the furthest thing from the truth, if she wants to wound me emotionally, I’m prepared to defend myself.

  My phone continues to vibrate in my hand, and for the moment, she remains silent. I answer the call before it’s able to go to my voicemail. It’s one of my business associates in China, explaining that there’s some sort of emergency halting the deal in its tracks. I swear under my breath before swapping to the other language, explaining that I’ll return within 24 hours. The man on the line sounds pleased, and I quickly hang up before turning to consider Charlotte for a moment longer.

  Tears stream down her cheeks, and her shoulders shake from the force of her sobs. She refuses to look at me, and it strikes me just how callous my words have been. I approach the bed nervously, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

  “Don’t touch me,” she snaps weakly.

  I draw away, wringing my hands nervously.

  “You know what? You’re right. I suppose you’re smarter than I gave you credit for. You’ve finally come to terms with the fact that I’ll never feel anything for you but hate,” she hisses, shoving me away from the bed.

  I stumble back, eyes widening in shock at her words. I want to believe she’s as hurt as I am, but her lips are twisted into a cruel smile.

  “You think these tears are for you? I’m simply mourning the loss of my million dollars,” she continues, rubbing her eyes.

  “You don’t…” I trail off, letting the statement die on my lips.

  Of course she means it. All she’s ever wanted is to ruin me. I’m being foolish, believing that there was ever anything more to our relationship. While it occurs to me that I was the one to start this confrontation, I’m confident that a good person couldn’t be as cold as to say what Charlotte is directing towards me. I never should have believed there was something more behind those angry green eyes.

  “I’m leaving,” I say abruptly, and she looks at me with wide eyes.

  “What?” she demands, moving to swing her legs off of the cot.

  “I’m needed in China—clearly much more than I’m needed here. I know when to cut my losses, and you’ll find that the contract was ironclad in its terminology. If you expect to get a dime out of me, you’re more of a fool than I’ve been,” I explain calmly, though my insides feel as if they’re about to implode.

  She looks surprised as I turn to the door, as if she doesn’t expect me to actually leave.

  “You can’t be serious. You can’t do this to me, Dillon. You—” her voice catches, and she begins to weep again.

  As much as I want to turn and console her, insist that I’ll be there no matter what, I won’t allow myself to be captured in her grasp again. I hear her call out for me as I step through the door, pushing it closed behind me. The nurses in the hall look away as if they’ve not been listening to every word exchanged in the room.

  The walk towards the exit is something of a walk of shame, and I find myself faced with the doctor before I’m actually able to leave. He looks torn, glancing from me to the door I realize he’d been listening as well. I cross my arms over my chest, almost daring him to speak ill towards me.

  “You know, it’s obvious how you feel about each other,” he offers. I inhale a shuddering breath, pushing past the man. “She loves you, Mr. Bradshaw. I’m no love doctor, but I’m sure of it,” he calls after me.

  I push down the large part of me that wants nothing more than to believe him. Even if she had cared about me, even loved me, I’m sure that’s not the case anymore.

  Returning to China will give me some time to clear my head, and truly consider what I want to do in regards to this relationship. Granted, it can’t exactly be called a relationship. As I step out the door, I feel a dampness on my cheeks. I glance upwards at the sunny blue sky above. There’s not a cloud in sight.

  Unfortunately, there will be no obscuring my tears. I can’t lie, even to myself. I reach to wipe them away before ducking into the limousine where Milo waits. If he’s curious as to where Charlotte may be, he doesn’t show it. I simply direct him to take me to my personal jet, and as always, he obliges.

  While some help and happiness can be purchased, it seems the most important things in life have no real price t
ag. It’s too bad I’ve already screwed everything up by trying to tack one onto the only woman I’ve ever loved.

  Charlotte can never be bought.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Charlotte

  Have you ever felt as if your heart simply stopped beating? For a second, just half a breath, your heart simply stops. I’m certain that’s what I’m feeling now that Dillon is gone. It’s as if every reason I’ve found for living has been ripped out from under me.

  The tears continue to fall for some time, even as the nurse steps in to check on me. I know she would like nothing more than for me to leave, but what she doesn’t know is that my future lays in shattered pieces before me. Judging by the sympathy in her eyes, however, maybe she knows more than she lets on.

  Allowing her to help me off the examination table, I wrap Dillon’s robe more tightly around myself. His scent clings to every fiber in the cursed thing, and I want nothing more than to throw it in the nearest dumpster. No, that’s not true. I can think of several things I want more than to be rid of my final reminder of the man I love…

  Shuddering, I make my way out of the doctor’s office, though I have no idea where to go from here. The obvious answer is my apartment, the rent for which Dillon has paid for the past few months. In case I need an escape of some sort, apparently.

  How did we fall from such heights to this pit of despair? Had he meant what he’d said? Does he not feel anything for me? I find that I can’t cease the tears that spill down my cheeks, even as I walk down the sidewalk in the direction of my apartment.

  Dillon has left me with no money, without a damn thing, except for the robe I’m wearing. I know I must look like a crazy woman walking down the city sidewalks in a silk robe and pajamas. Hell, I’ve not even had the opportunity to change out of the bedroom shoes I’m wearing.

  There’s no denying that he has made his feelings more clear than ever. If the venom we spewed at each other hasn’t made things clear enough, the fact that he’s abandoned me certainly does. At the very least, he could have seen me home. When I lashed out at him, I never expected it to be our final conversation.

  I should have been kinder. I should call him…

  No, no I shouldn’t. I’m not the sort of woman who depends on others. I was foolish to think I could trust Dillon Bradshaw, especially after his first instance of entirely ruining my life. I wish I could just free my mind of those gorgeous eyes of his, the perfect angle of his jaw, the way he feels inside of me.

  God, please just let me forget.

  As much as I want it all to end, I know that I have a reason to go on. Three reasons, specifically. While they may serve as a painful reminder of what I’ve lost, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m grateful to still carry some piece of him with me.

  I’ll have a part of Dillon Bradshaw with me for the rest of my life, it seems. He’s made it very clear that he wants no part of the triplets’ lives. They’ll never know their father. They can never know what a fool their mother is.

  Hiccuping, I’m grateful to realize I’ve already made it home. While it feels like I’m something of a cosmic joke at this rate, at the very least, I still have an apartment to return to. Walking up the stairs to my floor is exhausting with all the extra weight I’m carrying, but it’s not as if I can simply give up and collapse on the staircase.

  Sweat mingles with my tears as I stumble over the final step onto my floor.

  Approaching my front door, I realize with a start that I don’t even have a key on me. Bursting into a mix of hysterical laughter and tears, I sag against the wall. Things can’t get any worse, and it doesn’t seem as if things will be improving any time soon.

  The sound of a door opening jolts me to attention, and I’m startled to realize it’s my own door.

  “Charlotte?” a familiar voice asks, sounding almost fearful. “Are you okay?” the voice continues, and I gasp as a familiar face peers around my door.

  My sister, my darling sister, Jenny, steps out of my apartment and approaches me warily. I suddenly remember she’s been due to come visit me from Australia, where she and my parents live, but I didn’t realize the date had come so soon—time seems to have slipped away while I’ve been with Dillon.

  Seeming to finally notice the poor shape I’m in, Jenny lurches towards me, gathering me in her arms. Her eyes bulge as she notices the baby bump, and I bury my face in my twin’s shoulder as I try to think of how to explain myself.

  “Can we go inside? It’s a long story,” I murmur, smiling weakly as my sister helps me inside my apartment.

  It looks as if it’s been meticulously cleaned, which is pretty normal for Jenny’s visits. She hadn’t even realized the apartment wasn’t lived in. For the work I do cleaning other people’s homes, it’s laughable how messy I allow my own to become.

  I begin to giggle under my breath, collapsing onto my half-broken couch. Jenny stares at me with a raised brow, sitting beside me.

  “You seem to have been through a lot,” she says simply.

  The humor drains from me almost immediately, and I’m suddenly crying again. Damn these pregnancy hormones. In spite of the embarrassment, I manage to detail the situation to my sister. How I’d met Dillon, how I’d planned to ruin him upon our second meeting, to where I became a surrogate for his children. I leave out the part where I’m still head over heels in love with him, seeing as it’s rather obvious.

  Jenny strokes a hand soothingly through my hair, and I lean against her side. The tears continue to spill, but it’s a relief to have a familiar face nearby.

  “I don’t know what to do. I can’t even afford to take care of myself. How in the world am I going to take care of triplets?” I cry, looking to her through tearful eyes.

  She considers me thoughtfully, rising to her feet and heading towards my bedroom.

  “I’m grabbing you some clothes to change into. I have an idea I want to run by you, but you need to pull yourself together a bit,” she calls out, no-nonsense as ever, returning moments later with a T-shirt and jeans.

  I stare blankly at the clothes, glancing to my sister and gesturing to my stomach.

  “Ugh. I hate to ask, but do you have one of his shirts here, somewhere?” she asks.

  Hesitating for a moment, I nod and shuffle to grab one I’d worn home after one of my early sexual experiences with the billionaire.

  “Seems I can’t escape him…” I mumble as I get dressed.

  My sister hums absently to acknowledge me, and I glance over to see her swiping her thumb across a cellphone screen. My cellphone screen! I lurch towards her, but by the vaguely amused expression on her face, I can tell the damage has been done.

  “Certainly not. Why didn’t you have this with you?” Jenny asks, tossing the phone towards me.

  A rather lewd picture of Dillon and me is displayed, and I shoot my sister a dirty look before tucking my phone into my pocket.

  “I left it here a few nights ago, and never came back for it. Dillon’s the only one who has been messaging or calling me, anyway,” I say snidely, allowing the implication to hang in the air.

  Jenny looks vaguely offended, but it quickly fades to a more abashed look.

  “Well…I’m here now, aren’t I?” she huffs.

  Unable to stop myself from smiling, I step towards her and pull her into my arms.

  “You are, and you have no idea how much I appreciate it. Your twin senses must have gone off,” I tease. “So, what’s this big idea you have? Selling myself to fetish nudie magazines?” I continue, nudging her with an elbow.

  Jenny barks out a laugh, shaking her head slowly.

  “Not quite. I have a reporter friend who would be rather interested in your story, not to mention those photos…” she begins. I begin to sputter indignantly, but she cuts me off. “Before you say no, actually think about it! You’d get a big payout, and you’d finally get back at that bastard billionaire for all he’s done to you,” she explains, resting a hand on my shoulder.

  I h
esitate, considering whether I really want to sell my story. It would be nice to get back at the man who broke my heart but…do I really want to hurt him so deeply?

  Admittedly, I need some means of making a paycheck. The payout for my story won’t last forever, but it will help me get by until I get another job. Nodding slowly, I allow my sister to lead me to my computer. She boots it up, logging into her own email account and typing out a message to a name I immediately recognize.

  “Yasmin? Yasmin Bates? She works for the most popular gossip mag in the city,” I blurt.

  Jenny smiles knowingly, clicking on her inbox as she receives a reply almost immediately.

  “Yes, and she stands to make a good chunk of change from your story. She’s already replied, letting me know she’s interested. What should I tell her?” she asks.

  I grab my phone, adding Yasmin’s email address to my contacts and forwarding the photos to her. My sister gasps before bursting into almost hysterical laughter. The computer dings, and my sister clicks the message she has received.

  “What does she think?” I ask with a sly curl of my lips.

  “She says she’ll do the job of blacking out your face, but next time you might want to do that ahead of time. Message her the details, and she’ll start working on your story. She also wants to know where you would like the money transferred,” she paraphrases.

  I give slight pause, glancing at the message to see how much money I stand to make. My mouth falls open in shock. While it’s no million dollars, it’ll do the job just fine.

  “Tell her I’ll come pick up the check whenever it’s convenient for her,” I say urgently.

  “Oh, dear sister. You’re looking at a cash payout, here.” Jenny grins.

  She types out the message, pressing send before stepping away from the computer.

  “Come on. I’ll take you out for lunch, and we can go to the mall to grab a few maternity outfits. As funny as it is to see your jeans hanging under your stomach, I can’t stand to see that scumbag’s shirt on you,” Jenny says.