Pregnant by the Two Billionaires

Isabel's POV.

The bar was dimly lit, cloaked in a haze of cigarette smoke and low murmurs. It was the kind of place where secrets were exchanged, where masks were worn with pride. Exactly where I needed to be tonight.

I swirled the martini in my hand, its sharp tang barely touching my lips. My focus wasn't on the drink—it was on the crowd. The polished, powerful men and women who moved like they owned the world. They probably did. I wanted to be one of them, to belong in this intoxicating web of wealth and power.

I adjusted my dress, its fabric hugging my body like a second skin. Heads had already turned when I walked in, but I knew I needed more than looks to stand out here. I needed to radiate the confidence of someone who belonged.

No one here would guess that only hours ago, I was in a crumbling room in a forgotten corner of the city. The scent of mildew still clung faintly to my jacket, though I had doused myself in perfume to mask it.

My secret.

Then, I saw him.

He stood near the bar, leaning casually against the counter as if the world revolved around him. The low light cast sharp shadows across his chiseled features—cheekbones carved by some merciless sculptor and eyes so piercing they seemed to strip you bare. His tailored suit fit him perfectly, the fabric whispering of luxury that few could afford. But it wasn't just the suit. It was the way he wore it, the way he commanded the space around him. He didn't just look rich; he looked untouchable.

And yet, there was something more. An edge to his confidence, a subtle arrogance that said he was used to people falling at his feet—and he didn't have to try. A mystery wrapped in indulgence, radiating danger. His gaze swept across the room lazily, and when it landed on me, it lingered. For a moment, I thought about breaking the eye contact, but something in his stare pinned me in place. It was a challenge, a dare I couldn't resist.

He moved. Slowly. Deliberately. Each step was measured, as if the very act of walking toward me deserved an audience. The crowd seemed to part for him, their gazes following his every move. He wasn't just walking; he was claiming territory.

By the time he reached me, my pulse was racing, though I kept my face composed. His lips curved into a faint smirk, one that oozed both charm and mockery.

“Waiting for someone?” His voice was low, smooth, with just enough edge to make you question his intentions.

I tilted my head, meeting his gaze with a practiced air of confidence. “Not anymore.”

He chuckled, a soft, velvety sound that carried a hint of amusement. “Bold. I like that.” He extended his hand. “Lucas.”

I hesitated just long enough to keep him intrigued before placing my hand in his. “Isabel.”

His touch was firm, his fingers lingering on mine as his smirk deepened. “Isabel… Tell me, what brings someone like you to a place like this?”

I leaned in slightly, letting my lips curve into a sly smile. “Someone like me?”

“You don't exactly blend in,” he said, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that made my skin prickle. “You stand out. It's… intentional.”

He saw right through me, yet his tone wasn't accusative. It was almost admiring. That only made him more dangerous.

“And what about you, Lucas?” I shot back. “You seem like the type who prefers to watch from the shadows, yet here you are. Walking into the light.”

His smirk widened, and for a moment, something flickered in his eyes. Interest. Amusement. A hint of something darker. “Maybe I saw something worth stepping into the light for.”

The air between us felt electric, every word a spark threatening to ignite. He took a step closer, closing the already narrow space between us.

“You seem unimpressed,” he said. “Most people try harder to catch my attention.”

I raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference. “Maybe I'm not most people.”

For the first time, he laughed—a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “No,” he murmured. “You're definitely not.”

There was a challenge in his tone, one I couldn't resist. He wasn't just a man; he was a puzzle, one that dared you to solve him even as he warned you not to.

He leaned in, his lips so close to my ear that his breath sent chills down my neck. “Let's see if you can keep up, Isabel.”

And with that, he stepped back, offering his hand. “Come with me.”

I hesitated, just long enough to make it seem like I was considering. But we both knew my answer.

“Lead the way,” I said.

He took my hand, his grip firm but controlled, and guided me through the bar. Heads turned as we passed, whispers following in our wake. Lucas had that effect on people. He wasn't just noticed—he was remembered.

He led me down a quiet hallway, away from the noise and the eyes. The air was heavier here, the tension between us thick enough to cut. He opened a door, stepping aside to let me enter first.

The room was dim, lit by a single flickering light. It wasn't lavish, but it didn't need to be. The focus wasn't the room—it was him. As he stepped inside, closing the door behind him, the space seemed to shrink, consumed by his presence.

“You play this game well,” he said, his tone almost lazy as he leaned against the wall. “But tell me, Isabel. What's your endgame?” I stepped closer, letting my fingers graze the edge of his suit jacket. “I could ask you the same thing, Lucas.”

His smirk returned, sharp and dangerous, as he suddenly grabbed me by the leg and tilted my head to the side, his breath caressing my skin.

“Careful, Isabel. You might not like the answer.”

Lucas was gone.

Not even a note.

The ache in my chest was sharp, and I hated myself for it. What was I expecting? Men like him didn't linger. They didn't leave promises, only memories—memories that burned, even as I tried to brush them off.

I wrapped the blanket tighter around me, staring at the empty space beside me. It was stupid to feel this way, but I couldn't help it. Lucas had this magnetic pull, a storm that consumed you until you forgot how to breathe. He was arrogant, mysterious, and utterly unreachable—a puzzle I wasn't sure I wanted to solve but couldn't resist trying.

Shaking off the thoughts, I got up and dressed quickly. My reflection in the cracked mirror mocked me as I reapplied my makeup. Calm, flawless, untouchable—Isabel Reyes didn't get hung up on men who disappeared.

The streets were unusually quiet as I made my way home. The echoes of last night's allure faded with every step, replaced by the harsh reality of peeling walls, rusted gates, and a lingering stench of despair. My neighborhood.

This was my reality, no matter how much I tried to escape it.

I shoved the door to my apartment open, tossing my coat onto the sagging couch. Everything about this place was a reminder of what I hated—the damp smell, the chipped paint, the suffocating smallness. But I refused to let it pull me under. I wasn't staying here forever.

After changing into a sleek, muted dress, I set out again, heading to a more refined bar. Somewhere new, somewhere I could find someone better.

When I arrived, the atmosphere was different. Classier. Velvet ropes guarded the entrance, and the low hum of expensive jazz spilled out into the crisp night air.

The bouncer sized me up, his hard gaze lingering.

I smiled sweetly. “Forgot my ID, but I've been here before. Could you let me in?”

His eyes narrowed for a second before he stepped aside. “Go on.”

Inside, the room was bathed in dim, golden light. Wealth oozed from every corner—the soft clinking of crystal glasses, designer suits, and women draped in diamonds. My gaze swept the room, searching for someone who stood out, someone worth my time.

And then I saw him.

He was seated at the bar, quiet and composed, as though the noise and extravagance around him didn't touch him. His broad shoulders filled out his tailored suit effortlessly, and his face was striking—sharp lines softened by a kind of quiet intensity.

He wasn't like Lucas.

He didn't command the room with arrogance or charisma. He didn't demand attention. But there was something about him, something calm yet magnetic.

I slid onto the stool beside him, letting my heels tap lightly against the footrest. He turned his head, his eyes locking onto mine. They weren't full of heat or challenge like Lucas's—they were steady, almost cautious, as though he were reading every piece of me.

“Rough night?” I asked, breaking the silence.

His lips quirked into a soft smile, the kind that didn't need to try. “Something like that. My friends thought I needed to relax, so here I am.”

I extended my hand. “Isabel.”

“Daniel,” he said, his handshake warm, his smile genuine.

He didn't lean in or fill the air with empty flattery. Instead, he studied me, his gaze calm and unwavering.

“So, Daniel,” I said, tilting my head, “you don't seem like the type to hang out in places like this.”

He chuckled softly, a low, rich sound that sent an unexpected warmth through me. “And what type am I?”

I shrugged, leaning slightly closer. “Someone who doesn't belong in a room full of people trying too hard.”

His smile deepened, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—curiosity, maybe. “And what about you? Do you belong here?”

The question caught me off guard. Most men didn't bother looking past the surface, but Daniel's words felt deliberate, like he was trying to unravel something I wasn't ready to share.

“I'm just passing through,” I said lightly, deflecting with a practiced ease.

But he didn't press. He just nodded, as though he already understood.

“You don't waste time with charm, do you?” I teased, trying to regain control of the conversation.

“I don't see the point,” he replied. “If I'm going to talk to someone, I'd rather mean what I say.”

His words landed heavier than I expected, stirring something in me I couldn't quite name.

“Well,” I said, forcing a playful smirk, “consider me impressed.”

For the rest of the night, we talked. About everything and nothing. He wasn't like the others. He didn't boast or try to impress me with stories of wealth or power. He was genuine, grounded, and the more we talked, the more I felt the walls around me crack.

When his hand brushed mine, it wasn't electric or fiery like Lucas's touch. It was steady and sure, like a lifeline I didn't realize I needed.

“I'm glad I came here tonight,” he said softly.

“Yeah?” I tilted my head, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite the way my heart was suddenly pounding.

He nodded, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips before meeting my eyes again. “You're not like anyone I've met before, Isabel.”

The sincerity in his words hit harder than I expected. I smiled, a little softer this time. “Maybe you just don't know me well enough yet.”

His lips quirked into a half-smile, but there was something darker, something more intense simmering just beneath the surface. “I think I'd like to change that.”

For a moment, I didn't respond. The air between us felt charged, every second stretching longer than it should.

And then, out of nowhere, he leaned closer.

“I want to fuck you tonight.”

Isabel's POV.

I woke up to silence.

No rustling, no footsteps—just an empty bed and the faint memory of Daniel.

For the second time in two nights, I'd been ditched.

I sat up, anger flaring in my chest. This wasn't how it was supposed to go! I was the one who always leave, who called the shots. Now, Lucas and Daniel had both turned the tables!

My fists tightened in the sheets.

Shaking off the sting, I got dressed. No point dwelling on it. My heels clicked sharply against the pavement as I left, my expression unreadable. No one needed to know how much it stung.

Back in my cramped apartment, I dropped onto the couch, staring at the peeling wallpaper. The room felt smaller, suffocating. This place was my reality, no matter how many nights I spent pretending in fancy bars.

But I didn't have time to wallow. The bills were piling up. The landlord's threats were growing louder. And I was running out of options.

Days blurred together—endless cycles of failed attempts. Each night, I hunted for an opportunity, and each morning, I returned empty-handed.

The stress clawed at me, wearing me down. Food was becoming scarce, meals stretched to last longer than they should. My stomach growled constantly, but there were days when eating wasn't an option.

I needed to figure something out. Fast.

Then the nausea hit.

At first, it was just a dull ache. I brushed it off, blaming hunger. But it didn't stop. One morning, I doubled over, clutching my stomach as the pain twisted like a knife. My body heaved, dry and violent, leaving me shaking over the sink.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My face was pale, my skin damp with sweat.

And then it clicked.

My chest tightened. No. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be!

But the signs were there—the missed period, the cravings, the nausea.

I paced the room, my mind racing. This wasn't part of the plan! My breath quickened, panic clawing at me. I couldn't let this happen.

Then it got worse.

A sharp, tearing pain ripped through my abdomen, dropping me to my knees. My vision blurred as I stumbled to the bathroom, clutching the sink for support.

And then I felt it.

Warmth, wet and heavy, spreading down my thighs. I looked down, and the air left my lungs.

Blood.

Dark, thick, and relentless.

My hands trembled as I tried to make sense of it. But the panic swallowed me whole.

Something was wrong.

Something was horribly, terribly wrong.

---

The hospital waiting room felt colder than it should. My fingers fidgeted with the edge of my coat as the clock on the wall ticked, every second hammering the dread deeper.

A nurse appeared. “Isabel Reyes?”

I stood, dizzy as she led me into the doctor's office. The room felt smaller with every step, suffocating as the reality I tried to avoid closed in.

The OB-GYN glanced at my file, her expression careful. “Ms. Reyes, we've confirmed your test results.”

I held my breath.

“You're pregnant.”

No…

The words hit like a thunderclap.

“I… I'm pregnant?”

“Yes. It's early, but the results are clear,” she said gently, as if her tone could soften the blow.

My head spun. Pregnant. How? I had been careful—hadn't I? The nights with Lucas and Daniel blurred together, but surely one of them had used condoms… I couldn't even remember. I had been drunk with them. My stomach twisted in panic.

“Do you know when your last period was?” the doctor asked.

“I… I don't know,” I stammered.

“Do you know who the father might be?”

Her words felt like a knife. I couldn't answer. There were two possibilities, and neither man possibly would want to hear this.

The rest of the appointment passed in a haze of words I couldn't focus on. I thanked her stiffly, paid with the little cash I had, and stumbled out into the street.

Pregnant.

The word echoed in my head as I wandered, the city noise swallowing my thoughts. I couldn't afford a baby. Hell, I couldn't even afford groceries most days!

I froze in my tracks, the air around me seeming to thicken, pressing down on my chest.

I saw him.

Lucas.

Leaning casually against a café wall, cigarette in hand, laughing with a stunning brunette draped on his arm, Lucas looked every bit like he owned the world. He didn't seem like someone who'd vanished without a word. No guilt, no hesitation—just carefree arrogance oozing from every inch of him.

The sight ignited something primal in me, a sharp fury that coursed through my veins. I didn't care about the woman clinging to him or the onlookers scattered around the café. I needed answers. Now!

“Lucas,” I called.

He turned lazily, his eyebrows lifting as though I were a faint memory he couldn't quite place. His gaze flicked over me, and then his lips curved into that infuriating smirk. “Do I know you?”

My chest constricted painfully. “It's Isabel. From the bar. A few nights ago.”

Recognition sparked briefly in his eyes, only to be replaced by emotionlessness. His smirk deepened, cutting through me like a knife. “Oh, right. Sorry, babe, I don't keep track.”

The brunette at his side let out a mocking giggle, her perfectly painted nails brushing against his chest. Her eyes swept over me, dismissive and cruel.

"Who are you? Can't you see we're having a moment here?" she tried to brush me off.

I clenched my fists, grounding myself in the anger boiling inside me. “I'm pregnant.”

The words struck like a thunderclap. The café fell silent. Conversations halted mid-sentence. Lucas froze, his cigarette lingering just short of his lips, the laughter on his face wiped clean.

“What?” His tone turned sharp, venomous. The carefree mask slipped, revealing something colder, more dangerous.

“You're the f-father,” I stammered. What was I doing? I wasn't even sure if he was the father. But it was too late to take it back now.

Lucas stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator cornering its prey. His jaw tightened, his eyes hardening with contempt. “You've got a lot of nerve,” he said. “Showing up here, spouting this kind of crap.”

I took a shaky step back. “I'm telling the truth.”

He scoffed, his smirk resurfacing but now twisted into something vicious. “Truth? Don't kid yourself. I don't even know you, and I sure as hell don't want to.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Y-You have to believe me,” I asked.

Lucas leaned closer, his sneer inches from my face. “Why the hell would I? You're just another forgettable face. Another bad decision on a long, drunken night.”

The brunette laughed again, a sharp, cruel sound that grated against my skin. Lucas ignored her entirely, his gaze locked onto mine like a dagger poised to strike.

“And if you think you can pin this on me,” he continued, his eyes lowering on my stomach, “save your breath. I'm not paying for some trashy scam cooked up by a desperate little girl.”

A murmur rippled through the café as the crowd stared, their hushed voices laced with judgment. The humiliation was like a weight on my chest, suffocating.

“It's not a lie,” I said as the tears I'd fought so hard to hold back threatened to spill.

Lucas stepped back, his eyes scanning me with utter disdain. “Here's some advice,” he said. “Get lost. Before I lose my patience.”

“No,” I shook my head and tried to grab his hand. “Lucas, you—”

“I said, GET LOST!” he pushed me, and I almost lost my balance, but thankfully, I caught myself.

He turned his back on me without another glance, his cold laughter blending with the brunette's as they walked away. Around me, the whispers grew louder, biting into my skin.

My knees felt weak, but I forced myself to stand, blinking away the tears that blurred my vision. The world felt like it was closing in, crushing me beneath the weight of shame and despair.

I turned and stumbled into the street, the city lights swirling in a haze around me. My breaths came fast and shallow, each step heavier than the last as I tried to escape the memory of his words.

Then, out of nowhere, I collided with someone.

Strong hands steadied me.

I looked up, my heart hammering in my chest.

Daniel.