A billionaire accidental surrogate wife

"You're such a whore," my fiancé, Damian yelled, his face twisted with disgust and rage. The sharp edge of his words cut straight through me, leaving me breathless. I couldn't even find the strength to respond. How could I? His accusation felt like a slap, even before his hand actually struck me.

"I can't believe you slept with someone else and got pregnant," he added, his voice rising with each word.

Pregnant? I couldn't understand it. It didn't make sense. I was saving myself for him, for our wedding night. I had never even been with anyone, let alone slept with them. I was a virgin. How could I be pregnant? There had to be a mistake. The positive pregnancy test lying on the floor from where he had thrown it had to be a mistake.

"I didn't sleep with anyone," I finally stammered, my voice trembling. "I'm not pregnant."

My words barely escaped my lips before my stepmother's sharp, icy tone cut me off.

"You're a cheap prostitute, just like your mother," she spat, her eyes narrowing with disdain.

My heart sank lower than I thought was possible. The shame and humiliation burned through me like fire, but I knew it wasn't true. It couldn't be true. I clutched at my chest, trying to calm my racing heart, but it was no use.

"I swear, I didn't-"

The sting of Damian's slap lingered on my cheek, burning like fire against my skin. The impact had been so sudden, so unexpected, that I barely had time to react. My mind reeled as the taste of blood filled my mouth. A dull ache pulsed through my jaw, but it was nothing compared to the humiliation that tore through my chest.

Before I could steady myself, Damian's dark, hateful eyes bore into mine. His face, once the face of the man I thought I loved, twisted into something unrecognizable.

"You're pathetic," he spat, his words venomous. He raised his foot and kicked me hard in the stomach.

Pain exploded through my abdomen, and I cried out, crumpling onto the cold floor. My arms instinctively wrapped around my belly. I couldn't explain it-it didn't make sense-but something deep inside me screamed that I had to protect it. Despite the confusion and disbelief about the pregnancy, there was an undeniable instinct to shield whatever was inside me.

Damian wasn't done. He kicked me again, harder this time, and I curled into a tighter ball, trying to make myself as small as possible.

"Liar! Slut!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the room. "You think you can play me for a fool?"

Tears blurred my vision as I lay there, trembling. My stepmother's voice pierced through the haze of pain.

"She's just like her mother," she hissed. "A filthy, lying whore."

The room erupted with insults, their voices blending into a cruel cacophony. I couldn't tell who was yelling anymore-Damian, my father, my stepmother, or my half-sister, Oriana. All of them hurled their hatred at me like stones.

"You're no daughter of mine," my father finally said, his voice cold and filled with finality.

I turned my swollen, tear-streaked face toward him, hoping for some shred of mercy. But his expression was hard, unforgiving. He grabbed my arm roughly, his fingers digging into my skin, and yanked me to my feet.

"Get out," he snarled, dragging me toward the door.