Pregnant for the Billionaire Alpha
By Nasah
Free Chapters
Chapter 1
Alora. Ring! Ring! I pressed the phone to my ear for the umpteenth time that night, waiting for the click tone that signified the person on the other line had answered the call, but it never came. Just the sterile monotone of his voicemail. Where the hell was Landon? It was our one-year anniversary, for goodness' sake. I had told him dinner started at eight. It was already a few minutes past nine, and he wasn't even picking up my calls. “Ma'am, are you ready to order?” I looked to my left at the waiter, who was staring down at me expectantly. It was the fifth time he had asked me that question that night. I couldn't hold off any longer. “Sure,” I said, opening the menu and scanning through it once more. “I'll have a medium-rare steak with some mashed potatoes. And a glass of red wine, please.” “Great. I'll send your order to the kitchen.” The waiter walked off, leaving me alone with my worry. I hoped Landon was okay. This had never happened before. I had spoken to him about three hours ago before I started getting ready. If he wasn't going to come, he would have sent a text or something. Ten minutes later, my order appeared, yet still no Landon. I had called, texted, and left voice recordings, but I hadn't gotten a response. I looked around our table. It was our one-year anniversary, and I had gone all out with the decorations. I had put in a request with the kitchen earlier for a special candlelit dinner and an intimate dining experience. The aroma of roasted vegetables mixed with the scent of fresh roses. The wine was chilling in an ice bucket. I frowned. All of that had gone to waste. Signaling to the waiter, I waited as he hurried over. “Yes, Ma'am?” he said. “Can I have this to go? I've suddenly lost my appetite.” “Sure thing. I'll have it packed up.” The waiter walked away once more, and I began to gather my bag. I needed to go find Landon. He was supposed to meet me over two hours ago. I couldn't stop thinking negatively. What if something had happened to him? What if he'd gotten into an accident? My palms suddenly went sweaty, and my heart thundered. It wasn't long before the waiter appeared with two paper bags. I paid the bill and left the restaurant, heading to my car. I got in and started the engine and promptly drove straight to Landon's apartment on the other side of our city, Maystorm, trying my best not to think the worst. If anything had happened to him… I wouldn't be able to handle it. Fifteen minutes later, I was in the elevator going up to his floor. The double doors opened and I strolled out, walking to Landon's apartment door. I lifted my fist to knock, then paused, suddenly realizing that he'd given me a key to his apartment about a month ago, after he proposed to me. Hesitating, I sucked in a breath. I hated feeling like I was crossing a line here but desperation pushed me forward. Opening my handbag, I fished through it, looking for the small key. Because I was apprehensive, it took me a little while to steady my fingers long enough to find it. But as soon as I did, I pushed it into the lock and twisted, heaving out a breath of relief as the door opened. “Landon?” I called out softly. The living room was empty. Holding my breath, I walked further in, past the kitchen which was also empty, to the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Everywhere was spotless and quiet. I was about to give up and turn around when I heard it. My heart pounded. I moved toward the bedroom from where the sound came, each step slow and deliberate. The sound grew louder as I walked, resolving into something unmistakable: moans. My stomach twisted, disbelief clawing at my chest. “No,” I whispered, shaking my head. The door to his bedroom was slightly ajar. I reached it with trembling hands and pushed it open. What I saw made my world tilt. Landon was there, his broad shoulders gleaming with sweat, his head thrown back in a moment of abandon. But it wasn't just him. The woman beneath him, her hair cascading over the pillows in waves I would recognize anywhere, was Lauretta—my older sister. For a moment, I couldn't move, couldn't think. The sight before me was so wrong, so incomprehensible, that my brain refused to process it. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Neither of them knew I was standing here watching them. They were too engrossed in themselves and what they were doing. Until finally, Lauretta noticed me. She tilted her head, a slow, deliberate smirk curling her lips. “Well, this is awkward,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery. Landon didn't even bother to look ashamed. He turned his head lazily toward me, his expression one of mild annoyance, as if I had interrupted something trivial. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone devoid of the affection I once cherished. I blinked, my vision blurring with tears. “What...what am I doing here?” I echoed. “It's our anniversary, Landon. I was waiting for you. I called you all night.” “And?” Lauretta interjected, sitting up slightly, the sheet slipping off her bare shoulder. “Did you expect him to drop everything because you made dinner? Please, Alora, grow up.” The words hit me like a slap. I stared at my sister, my throat tightening with disbelief. “You,” I whispered, the word trembling on my lips. “How could you? You're my sister. My own flesh and blood!” I yelled that last sentence. Lauretta shrugged, unbothered. “And he's just a man. Don't make this bigger than it is.” She said. “Besides, we've been having sex for a long time. It's not our fault that you're too slow to figure things out.” My gaze snapped back to Landon, searching his face for something—remorse, guilt, anything to explain this betrayal. But all I saw was indifference. “Is this true?” I asked him. “Have you been cheating on me all this time with my sister?” “Landon!” I bellowed in pain when he didn't answer, my chest caving with heavy breaths. “I think you should leave,” he said flatly, turning back to Lauretta as if I was nothing more than an inconvenient afterthought. The room spun, and my hand flew to the door frame for support. My chest ached, the weight of betrayal crushing me. Using the last ounce of strength in me, I tore off the ring he'd given me and threw it back at his naked body. “We're done.” Without another word, I turned and walked away, the sound of their laughter following me down the hall like a cruel echo. By the time I reached my car, tears were streaming down my face. I slid into the driver's seat, my hands gripping the steering wheel as sobs racked my body. The anniversary I had dreamed of was shattered, replaced by a memory that would haunt me forever. And for the first time, I realized that the Landon I loved didn't exist.
Chapter 2
Alora. The knock came just after sunrise, low and insistent, dragging me out of a half-sleep I didn't realize I'd fallen into. My head throbbed from all the crying I did through the night, my eyes felt like sandpaper, and the dress I'd worn last night clung to me like a bad memory. “Alora, open the door,” Landon called out. My stomach flipped. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping if I ignored him long enough, he'd disappear. But Landon wasn't one to take silence for an answer. “Please. We need to talk.” Talk? A laugh bubbled up in my throat, sharp and bitter. What was there to talk about? I'd seen everything. I'd seen him, with my sister, in a moment that was so intimate it had been burned into the back of my eyelids. Every time I blinked, it played again, like a scene on loop I couldn't shut off. “Go away, Landon,” I croaked. “Alora—” “Leave!” My shout echoed through the apartment, startling even me. I heard him pause, his shadow shifting behind the door. For a second, I thought he might actually listen. “I can explain,” he said softly, a complete contrast to the cold man that had looked at me last night and asked me to leave his apartment so he could continue sleeping with my sister, as if that would fix anything. Explain? My hands clenched into fists. I didn't need an explanation. I needed him to vanish, to take all the pain he'd caused with him. “Don't insult me, Landon. I know what I saw.” The silence that followed was deafening. I imagined him standing there, hand on the doorframe, his face twisted into that look he always gave me when he thought I was being unreasonable. But this time, I wasn't wrong. I wasn't overreacting. I wanted to scream, to cry, to rip open the door and tell him how much I hated him. But I didn't. I couldn't face him. Finally, I heard his footsteps retreating, and I exhaled shakily. Relief warred with the hollowness spreading through my chest. He was gone—for now. But the damage he'd caused still sat in the pit of my stomach. I forced myself to sit up, the room tilting as I did. The untouched food and wine from last night sat on the dining table. The roses I'd bought yesterday for our dinner had started wilting, petals drooping like they, too, had given up. I laughed again, quieter this time. It wasn't funny, not really, but what else could I do? The night I'd spent weeks planning—the anniversary I'd been so excited to celebrate—had turned into the most humiliating moment of my life. I hugged my knees to my chest, my nails digging into the fabric of my dress. I'd built everything around Landon. I'd loved him. Even with all that happened last night, there was a part of me that still loved him. My dreams of getting married young, of having babies before thirty, of building this picture-perfect life with the man I loved—it had all been tied to him. I gave up so much because he told me to wait. “There's no rush, Alora. Children can come anytime,” he'd say. “Let's take our time.” Time for what? So he could ruin me? I wiped my eyes. No more pity-partying. It was time to take back control of my life. I knew what I wanted: to be a mother. It had been my dream for as long as I could remember. I'd hoped Landon would be the one to give me children but that was not happening anymore. So there was only one solution. Artificial insemination. I had some money saved up over the years that should be enough. Without thinking about it, I grabbed my phone and made a google search for fertility hospitals near me. The search took less than three minutes and then I secured an afternoon appointment. Getting to my feet, I wandered into the bathroom to shower and dress up. Anticipation rushed through me as I got ready and a sinking feeling settled into the pit of my stomach. But this was what I wanted, to have my own child. It would have been nice to be married too but life didn't always give you lemons. Sometimes it gave you sad and sticky situations that required desperate measures. The drive to the hospital was smooth. I got to the grandiose lobby and gave my name to the receptionist who directed me to see the lead doctor on the top floor. The office I was led into was clinical like the rest of the hospital, but there was a warmth to it—a soft couch in one corner, a framed painting of sunflowers on the wall. The woman sitting behind the desk looked to be in her early fifties, her silver-streaked hair pulled back into a neat bun. Her name plate read Dr. Miriam Isah. “Alora, it's nice to meet you,” she said, standing to shake my hand. Her grip was firm but kind, and her smile made the tight knot in my stomach loosen just a little. “Thanks for seeing me,” I said, taking the chair opposite her. She nodded, settling back into her seat. “I've reviewed your file, and I see you're interested in pursuing artificial insemination as a single parent.” “Yes,” I said quickly, though my voice wavered. I cleared my throat. “I've been thinking about this for a while. I'm ready to move forward.” Dr. Isah studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable. “It's a big decision, Alora. I'd like to make sure you're fully informed before we proceed. Are you comfortable discussing the details?” I nodded, though my hands were gripping the arms of the chair so tightly my fingers ached. “Yes, of course.” She folded her hands on the desk. “Let's start with the positives. Artificial insemination is a safe and effective way for single women to conceive. It gives you control over your timeline and allows you to choose a donor who meets your preferences, whether that's physical characteristics, education level, or even specific genetic traits.” That sounded promising. Almost too good to be true. “But,” she continued, “there are challenges to consider as well. Parenting is a demanding journey, especially as a single mother. Do you have a strong support system—family, friends—who can help you along the way?” The question caught me off guard. My first instinct was to think of Lauretta, and the bitterness that surged through me was almost suffocating. My sister had always been my closest confidant, the one I turned to for everything. Now, even the thought of her name made my stomach turn. “I have people,” I said, though it felt like a half-truth. She nodded, as if sensing my hesitation. “And financially? Raising a child on your own is a significant investment—not just money, but time, energy, and emotional resilience.” “I've thought about that too,” I said. “I'm stable enough to handle it. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't.” “Good,” she said, smiling softly. “It's clear you've put a lot of thought into this. That's important.” Her words steadied me, grounding me in my resolve. She slid a folder across the desk. “If you decide to move forward, this contains everything you'll need to know about the process, as well as a preliminary list of donors. You'll have access to their profiles—basic information, medical history, even personal statements, if provided.” I opened the folder and scanned the first page, blinking as men of different ages and backgrounds stared back at me. There were some fairly handsome here and there but none of them were people I imagined my child looking like. “Take your time. You don't have to pick a donor today. These things should not be rushed,” Dr Isah said. I couldn't wait any longer or I would change my mind. “No. I want to.” But I kept turning the pages and yet none of the men spoke to me. I was already on the last page. Disappointment flowed through me. Just as I was about to close the folder, the very last donor appeared, halting my movements. I froze, staring at his face. Strong, chiseled jaw and a straight nose. Perfectly carved, thick eyebrows and high cheekbones that could have cut through glass. But that wasn't his most striking feature. It was his eyes. The bluest eyes I've ever seen. Electric blue. There was something about him that drew me in. It was loud and it was damning and oddly familiar, as if I'd known him in my past life or something. He was also, quite frankly, the most handsome man I'd ever seen in my entire life. My mouth moved before my brain could register it. “I pick him.”