The Billionaire's Secret Bump-Chapter 25: Shattered Heart

Fiona sat at her desk like a woman who had been hollowed out and then carefully propped back up so no one would notice.

The screen had gone to sleep ten minutes ago. The Voss Éclat logo stared back at her in soft gray, a mocking little reminder of everything she was trying to hold together. Her hands rested on the keyboard fingers curled, unmoving.

She couldn’t stop seeing it.

Katherine Thorne.

Platinum hair catching every light in the lobby like it had been spun from money. Red lipstick so perfect it looked painted on. That dress deep burgundy silk, clinging to hips and waist and breasts like it had been sewn directly onto her body. The way she’d draped herself on Martin’s arm casual, possessive, effortless. The way she’d tilted her head back to laugh at something he said, throat exposed, eyes sparkling like she’d already won. The way she’d leaned in, pressed those glossy lips to his cheek in a kiss that looked innocent to everyone else but felt like a public execution to Fiona.

And Martin...

He hadn’t flinched.

Hadn’t pulled away.

Hadn’t even looked uncomfortable.

He’d just smiled that small, controlled CEO smile and let it happen.

As if Katherine belonged there.

As if Fiona had never existed.

As if the elevator yesterday his mouth on hers, hands tearing at her blouse, fingers inside her while she moaned his name had been a dream she’d invented alone.

The memory hit her again, unbidden, vicious.

His tongue sweeping into her mouth. His teeth grazing her lower lip. His thumb circling her clit through her trousers until she was soaking, shaking, coming apart against his hand with a broken *Martin* that echoed in the small space. The way he’d growled *say my name when you come* like it was a command she couldn’t refuse. The way she’d obeyed shattering, trembling, whispering his name like a prayer.

And now?

Now he had Katherine Thorne on his arm in front of the entire company.

Fiona’s throat closed.

She blinked hard. Refused to cry here. Not at her desk. Not where Riley could roll over and see. Not where Maya might ask if she was okay. Not where anyone could witness how thoroughly she had fooled herself.

She judged herself mercilessly.

*Stupid.*

She’d walked into Eclipse Lounge that night heart shredded from Marcus’s betrayal, vodka burning in her veins, self-respect already in tatters and seen a beautiful stranger in the shadows. Tall. Dark. Dangerous. Eyes like storm clouds. And she’d thought *why not?* Thought one night of reckless, filthy pleasure would erase the pain. Thought she could let him take her apart, piece by piece, and walk away whole.

She’d let him pin her against velvet. Let him spread her legs in front of mirrors that showed every gasp, every shudder, every time she came for him. Let him whisper *you’re so fucking perfect like this* while he fucked her slow and deep, then fast and hard until she was sobbing his name. She’d let him make her feel wanted, desired, alive.

And then she’d run.

Because that’s what cowards do.

She’d convinced herself it was nothing. Just sex. Just forgetting. Just one impulsive decision she could bury and never think about again.

Until two pink lines.

Until the job offer.

Until she walked into that conference room and saw his face.

And now Katherine Thorne was real.

Perfect. Polished. Born for boardrooms and black-tie galas. The kind of woman who looked like she’d never made a reckless choice in her life. The kind of woman who belonged on Martin Mole’s arm.

Fiona’s eyes stung.

She blinked harder.

*Naive.*

She’d actually believed for one stupid, shining moment that the kiss in the elevator meant something. That the way he’d looked at her, dark and desperate, meant he wanted her. That the way he’d whispered *don’t run again* meant he cared.

She’d been so fucking naive.

Men like Martin Mole didn’t fall for women who ran from one-night stands. They fell for women like Katherine Thorne women who stayed, who smiled in photos, who fit the narrative.

Fiona was the mistake.

The secret.

The one he’d fucked in a velvet suite and forgotten until she showed up at his company with his child growing inside her.

She pressed her palm harder against her stomach, hidden under the desk.

"I’m sorry," she whispered. "I’m so sorry I got us into this."

Tears slipped free. She swiped them away quickly, glancing around. The floor was quiet lunch hour creeping in. Riley had left for the cafeteria with Sara. Maya was on a call. No one was watching.

Fiona stood slowly.

Legs shaky.

She walked to the restroom empty, thank god. Locked herself in a stall. Leaned against the door. Let the tears come silent, hot, unstoppable.

She cried for the girl she used to be the one who believed love could be earned, who believed one mistake wouldn’t cost her everything.

She cried for the baby she hadn’t planned, who deserved better than a mother drowning in shame and self-loathing.

She cried for Martin the man who’d kissed her like she was air he needed, who’d whispered promises in the dark, who now had Katherine Thorne on his arm like Fiona had never existed.

She cried until her throat ached and her eyes burned.

Then she washed her face.

Fixed her makeup.

Straightened her blazer.

Walked back to her desk.

Sat down.

Opened her laptop.

And pretended.

Because that’s what she did now.

Pretended the kiss hadn’t happened.

Pretended Katherine Thorne didn’t exist.

Pretended she wasn’t carrying his child.

Pretended she wasn’t breaking.

The baby fluttered gentle, persistent.

She pressed her hand to her stomach under the desk.

Whispered:

"We’re okay."

But the lie tasted bitter.

And deep down, she knew.

She wasn’t okay.

Not even close.

She stared at her screen unseeing.

The logo blurred.

The office hummed around her phones ringing, keyboards clicking, laughter from the break room.

None of it reached her.

She was alone in her head.

Alone with the memory of Martin’s mouth.

Alone with the image of Katherine’s kiss on his cheek.

Alone with the baby who didn’t know any of it.

Alone with the judgment that wouldn’t stop.

*Stupid.*

*Naive.*

*Reckless.*

She closed her eyes.

Let one more tear slip free.

Then wiped it away.

Opened her eyes.

And kept pretending.

Because that was all she had