Pregnant With The Ruthless CEO's Heir

The heavy oak doors of St. David's Church gave way under Cora's weight. The brutal November wind followed her inside, slicing through the thin fabric of her black trench coat and biting into her calves. She welcomed the sting. It kept her grounded.

The sanctuary smelled of burning wax, old wood, and thousands of white roses. The scent was sickeningly sweet. It coated the back of her throat like syrup. She forced herself to swallow it down, keeping her spine rigid.

A woman in the third row-a socialite whose name Cora didn't care to remember-turned her head. Her eyes widened. A harsh gasp slipped past her glossy lips.

It was the spark that lit the powder keg. Heads snapped around. Whispers hissed through the pews, a collective, venomous buzz.

Cora ignored the venom in their stares. She didn't look at the floor. She didn't shrink. She walked to an empty seat in the darkest corner of the back row, sat down, and crossed her legs.

At the altar, Axel Malone stood bathed in the warm light of the stained-glass windows. He wore a custom Tom Ford tuxedo. His hair was perfectly styled. He looked like a prince. He looked like a man who hadn't spent the last three years bleeding her dry.

Beside him stood Aubrey Mayer. The perfect heiress. The woman who had everything.

The priest's voice was a dull drone in Cora's ears. She watched Axel take Aubrey's delicate hand. He slid a massive, blinding diamond onto her ring finger.

Cora's stomach didn't drop. Her chest didn't cave in. Instead, her fingers slipped into the deep pocket of her coat. They found the folded piece of paper waiting there. The final notice from Mount Sinai Hospital. She gripped it so hard the crisp edge of the paper sliced a tiny, stinging cut into the pad of her thumb. She let the pain anchor her.

The crowd rose to their feet. Applause thundered through the vaulted ceiling.

Aubrey leaned into Axel's chest, the picture of a shy, radiant bride. But as she turned her head, her eyes cut through the crowd. They bypassed the smiling faces of her wealthy friends and locked dead onto the darkest corner of the back row.

Aubrey found Cora.

The bride's lips curved into a slow, smug smile. A silent declaration of victory.

Cora didn't flinch. She reached into her cheap leather tote bag, pulled out a half-empty plastic water bottle, and raised it in the air.

A silent, mocking toast.

Axel followed his new wife's gaze. His eyes landed on Cora.

The perfect smile on his face died instantly. His jaw clenched so hard Cora could see the muscle ticking from fifty feet away. Panic and raw, ugly rage flared in his eyes.

Cora lowered the bottle. She stood up, turned her back on the altar, and walked out.

The choir erupted into a booming hymn as she pushed through the heavy side doors, stepping into the dim, narrow hallway lined with wooden