Pregnant And Fleeing The Ruthless Billionaire

Morning light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling window, slicing through the space on the bed like a knife. When Jodi Holden woke up, he found that the environment around him was still empty. The sheets on the side where Armand was were cold, untouched. He was already gone.

She slowly turned over, burying her face in the pillow he had slept on. There was only the cool scent of laundry detergent left, with no trace of warmth. She closed her eyes for a moment, and images of that night five years ago involuntarily flashed in her mind-her standing at the door of his hotel suite, the thin pages of the agreement in her hand, the words as cold and hard as iron. He sat on the sofa, not even getting up to greet her. He said, I need a person, not emotions, not problems, just companionship. And I need to survive. At that time, her mother was still in the intensive care unit, and bills flew in like snowflakes. She didn't hesitate for long.

After that, these nights became the norm. He came, he left, without explanation. She learned not to ask where he spent the night, not to ask why he could sometimes be so gentle as if he were another person, and sometimes disappear as if he had never existed. It was a transaction, not love. At least he always thought so.

Armand Taylor, CEO of the powerful Taylor Company, disappeared again in the darkness before dawn.

In fact, there were no notes at all. Only evidence of his departure-the silk pajamas scattered on the floor, their ties torn last night. In the gentleness he claimed, such a fierce little incident had occurred.

She reached for her phone, which was placed on the nightstand, a habit she detested. The screen was black, with no message notifications. There were no missed calls either. Only the silent screen proved that since he left her bed, he hadn't once thought of her.

Her thumb hovered over the screen, then she lightly tapped the email icon. This habit was deeply ingrained-it was a desperate act of trying to gain some recognition, to prove her existence.

A new message appeared at the top of her inbox. The sender was not Armand, but "Taylor Family Office."

Her breath hitched in her throat.

The email subject was a string of project codes. She entered the password she was forced to memorize five years ago. Finally, the email opened.

This process is very simple. No greetings or explanations are needed. Just provide the digital signature of the electronic key, and the address: the top-floor apartment on the west side of Central Park.

A chilling sense of fear washed over her heart, a feeling that was both heavy and intense. It was all over. He was finally going to drive her away, place her in a new place, settle her down, so his life could return to normal-or rather, have her completely disappear from his life. She suddenly realized: this was not a "gift," but an act of expulsion. That apartment was not a "gift" either, but just a worse "prison." Because he needed a clean, traceless place to live, so his fiancée wouldn't discover any traces of his past.

She hadn't had time to completely shake off the thought when her phone vibrated, receiving a text reminder from Credit Suisse.

A seven-digit amount had been received in her private account.

The phone slipped from her numb fingers, making a harsh noise as it fell onto the marble floor. The amount was too much. It wasn't pocket money, but rather like a one-time compensation... the final payment for the services she had provided.

Her throat was covered in ice. She endured the pain and picked up the phone, doing something she had not done in a year-she dialed André's private number.

The phone rang six times, each ring seeming to last forever. When he finally answered, she could almost hear his annoyed sigh. In the background, the rhythmic roar of the helicopter's blades rose and fell.

"Jodi."

His voice sounded cold, with a sense of detachment. At that moment, someone interrupted him.

She tried to keep her voice steady, trying to eliminate the panic that was spreading deep within her. "I received that email. And the transfer notification."

A silence fell. "Then what?"

"Armand, what is this?" The question was spoken like a whisper.

A withered, humorless laugh came from that voice. It was the most cruel sound she had ever heard. "As a reward," he said, his voice flat and heartless, "for your behavior last night, for your obedience."

This word struck her like a slap. A reward... Her blood seemed to freeze into a cold liquid in her veins. Her obedience was quantified and transferred to her in the form of an electronic transfer.

"Reward?" she repeated the word, as if it carried the taste of ash in her mouth.

"This apartment was prepared for your convenience. It's a bit closer to the office." His impatience was clear in the call. "Don't be so difficult, Jodi."

He thought she was questioning the value of the gift. Such an extremely generous act was nothing but an insult. He had no idea that she was suffocating from this humiliation. He had just cut away the last remnants of her dignity.

She took a deep breath. The air seemed thin and meaningless. "I understand."

She ended the call.

She didn't say another word. Any more words would be considered "unacceptable" behavior. Any expression of emotion would violate the unspoken agreement between them.

She walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, her bare feet making a soft sound on the cold floor. The view of Manhattan was before her, the city like a glittering, cold, and merciless monster. Beautiful and merciless. Just like him.

Five years have passed. In these five years, she played the role of a flawless, obedient lover. She was so perfect, so obedient, that he forgot she was also a person.

She saw her reflection in the glass window. The faint deep purple marks on her neck seemed to be the marks he left. For the first time, a true, physical sense of nausea washed over her heart.

That money and that apartment were not gifts. They were actually a "gift" that restraint people-a constraint defined by money and space.

She turned away from the window and picked up her phone again. She needed something to distract her. Work, or anything that could stop the screams in her head. She opened the news app.

A headline from the financial section was pushed to the top of her page.

Her fingers trembled as she typed. Her mood was utterly terrible-as if she had fallen into an abyss.

The CEO of Taylor Company, Armand Taylor, will announce his engagement to a member of a European royal family.

This article is brief and somewhat speculative, but the source is reliable. It also includes a blurry photo of Armand at a banquet in Monaco, his head slightly tilted, his gaze fixed on a blonde woman, his profile clear and focused.

At that moment, everything became clear.

The apartment. The money. The so-called "reward."

He wasn't just getting rid of her. He was also clearing evidence, preparing everything for the new owner's arrival, making the house clean and tidy.

A faint smile touched Jodi's lips. The smile was broken and silent. A tear slid down her icy cheek, and another...

She finally understood the price of obedience.

A cold and resolute determination blossomed in her heart. This was not the end of the deal, but the beginning of war. The battle was far from over-she still needed to prepare a document to completely sever ties with him.