The Infertile CEO's Pregnant Bride

I was three months pregnant when I married a CEO everyone believed was infertile. On our wedding night, he said, “In public, the baby will be mine.

But you and I are business partners. Nothing more.” I agreed without explaining. Soon, he started coming home late, and rumors of other women flooded the tabloids.

Just as he'd asked, I never questioned him. Then our daughter was born. The older she got, the more she looked like Grant Callahan. At last, he grew suspicious.

He cornered me in the hall, his voice low and strained. “What have you been hiding from me?” “Whose baby is she?” Chapter 1 When Dad learned I was pregnant, he paced his study and demanded to know whether I was scheduling a termination.

I grabbed my car keys, locked myself in my car, and shouted through the window. “Either you let me have this baby, or I move out right now and you never see either of us again!” “I love the baby's father!

And it's not like our family can't afford a child!” Dad nearly stumbled. He pointed at me through the glass. “You—you are going to be the death of me!” “Tell me who the bastard is.

I'll drag him here and get some answers myself!” That shut me up. He got even angrier and threatened to disown me.

By the next morning, he was already searching New York high society for a husband willing to become my baby's readymade father.

After rejecting one candidate after another, he settled on Grant Callahan—the heir everyone believed couldn't have children.

The story was that Grant had been kidnapped as a child and badly injured during his escape. Years of fertility tests said natural conception was highly unlikely.

Somewhere along the way, unlikely became impossible. The families the Callahans considered suitable didn't want a marriage with almost no chance of children.

Anyone outside their circle made the Callahans worry she was only after the money. That was how Grant had reached twentynine without marrying.

If I hadn't gotten pregnant while single and refused to name the man responsible, Dad would never have chosen Grant out of sheer desperation.

I had no idea what Dad said to the Callahans, but they agreed. They had spent the last two years fending off questions about Grant's marriage and the family succession.

The arrangement gave both families something they needed. At first, I assumed Dad had hidden my pregnancy.

Then the Callahans sent over enough prenatal vitamins and gifts to stock a pharmacy. They knew. Our families met briefly the day the match was finalized.

Grant wore a cold expression throughout the meeting and said fewer than ten words.

Everyone wanted the wedding handled before my pregnancy became obvious and turned into societypage entertainment.

From setting the date to signing the prenup, getting the license, and holding the ceremony, the entire process took twenty days.

After the reception, I followed Grant home to the house that had been hastily prepared for us. We stood in the master bedroom and stared at the rose petals scattered across the bed.

Grant broke the silence first. He cleared his throat. His voice was cool and crisp. “Miss Sinclair.” “Call me Sadie. We are married now.” I cut him off with an easy smile.

He gave a detached nod. “All right, Sadie.” “There are certain things we should make clear on the first night.” My own expression turned serious. “Yes.

We should.” “I have something to tell you too, but you can go first.” He raised one brow. “Fine.” “The baby you're carrying will be a Callahan.” “I'll raise the child as my own.

Only you, me, and your father will know the biological truth.” I froze. The confession on the tip of my tongue disappeared. What did that mean?

Had the Callahans agreed to this marriage because they thought my baby was Grant's? Chapter 2 But why had Grant agreed? Why would he help me lie?

As if he'd read the question on my face, he said, “Gossip is tedious. I don't enjoy dealing with it.” “You need a father for your baby.

I need a wife and a child.” “This is a business arrangement.” “Nothing more.” I understood. An odd, private ache spread through my chest. Nothing more?

Did he mean we would be married in name only?

I looked up with an incredulous smile. “You expect me to live like a nun?” The tips of his ears suddenly turned red. “If you need physical intimacy, I can accommodate you.” Excuse me?

If I needed it? Who asked him to accommodate me? He made sex sound like a charitable donation. As if I wanted his charity.

I drew a deep breath, so angry that my mouth trembled. “Great.

You can accommodate me tonight.” He frowned and looked down at my stomach, which wasn't showing yet. “You're still in your first trimester.

We should ask your doctor first.” Oh, wonderful. He had researched pregnancy safety too. My smile vanished.

Grant watched me closely. “Didn't you say you had something to tell me?” I swallowed every word I'd planned to say and gave him a brittle smile. “Funny.

I wanted to discuss the exact same thing.” “You're right. This is strictly business.” That night, I slept in the master bedroom while Grant took the guest room.

He slipped into bed beside me shortly before dawn. When I stared at him, he explained, “The estate staff will deliver breakfast and clean the rooms in the morning.

We need to keep up appearances on our first night.” I had no response. Appearances. What a load of crap. I rolled my eyes at him, turned over, and went back to sleep.

For the first two months of our marriage, Grant kept up those appearances flawlessly. He took me to dinner, shopping, and on walks.

He brought me to Callahan Holdings, the family estate in Westchester, and every society event imaginable. The problem was, the man barely spoke.

He would introduce me with two words—“my wife”—then leave me to fend for myself. After two months of that relentless schedule, I couldn't take it anymore.

I didn't have terrible morning sickness, but I was still pregnant.

Pregnant women were supposed to lounge at home and have food brought to them, not spend every day working a room full of strangers.

So the next time Grant expected me to go out with him, I refused and said I had plans with a friend. The second I saw Avery Morgan, I threw my arms around her.

She carefully touched my growing belly and arched one bold brow. “Well, look at that.

You're popping.” Avery favored an androgynous look: cropped hair, a blue diamond stud in her left ear, and the kind of easy confidence that made everything she wore look sharp.

In a white Tshirt and jeans, she could easily be mistaken for a young man from behind. We saw a movie, then found a café and lingered over coffee until late afternoon.

That evening, she drove me home. I clung to her arm. “I'm so jealous of your freedom.” “I used to have freedom too,” I wailed.

Chapter 3 Avery laughed and peeled my hands off her arm, then ran a hand through her cropped hair. “You're married now. What do you need freedom for?” “Go be Mrs.

Callahan and take care of yourself. This is all for our little baby.” I watched her leave. When I turned around, Grant was standing just inside the door.

His dark eyes remained fixed on the place where Avery had disappeared.

Something unreadable moved beneath them, and the air had a strange, sour edge. “What are you looking at?” I glanced over my shoulder.

The driveway was empty. “Nothing.” His voice was low. “I came back for a file.” He went to his study, emerged a few minutes later, and left in a hurry.

He looked almost desperate to get away from me. From that day on, Grant stopped insisting that we play the perfect couple everywhere we went.

He began leaving early and coming home late, as though he were deliberately avoiding me. The first rumors about another woman surfaced after one of my prenatal appointments.

Paparazzi were waiting outside the hospital. [Before marriage, he was the gorgeous, untouchable CEO.

Now he's already keeping a mistress?] [Guess he found out he isn't infertile after all and decided he was God's gift to women.

Give a man one ego boost and he'll cheat.] [Poor Sinclair heiress. Pregnant and going to appointments alone.] [Rich or poor, men are all the same.] The story spread fast.

That night, the Callahan elders summoned both of us to the Westchester estate. I arrived with my growing belly just in time to find Grant being lectured.

Every head turned toward me. Grant's dark, fathomless eyes held an emotion I couldn't name.

I walked calmly to his side and defended him like a devoted wife. “It's all a misunderstanding.

I trust Grant.” Only when we were alone did I ask, “Is she the reason you wanted this arrangement?” The woman in the rumors.

Brielle Frost was a minor actress who had graduated from a vocational program and appeared in the industry almost overnight.

She bounced from one reality show to another and never missed a chance to mention “Mr. Callahan.” Everyone assumed Callahan money was behind her career.

Was Brielle someone his family would never accept? Was that why Grant had agreed to marry me and raise another man's baby?

Either he hadn't been listening or he didn't want to answer. He tilted his head absently. “What?” Suddenly, the question felt pointless.

I buried the private ache in my chest and shook my head with a selfmocking smile. “Nothing. Don't worry. We agreed this was only business.

I won't question what you do or interfere.” The hand resting on his knee curled into a fist. His knuckles whitened. Then he released it. The air seemed to hold still.

Grant lifted his eyes, his mouth bending with faint contempt. “Good.” He paused.

His voice held an awkward distance that felt almost deliberate. “At least you understand your place.” “Mrs. Callahan.” He drew out the name and bit down on every syllable.

The resentment in those two words was impossible to miss. Chapter 4 Something lodged in my chest and pressed against my throat. So he really was rejecting my right to ask.

He really hated having me as Mrs. Callahan. I lowered my eyes and rested one hand on my belly. In the end, I said nothing. Maybe the lecture from his family had worked.

Or maybe the gossip had become too loud to ignore. Either way, I was shocked to find Grant at home the next morning.

He sat on the living room sofa in casual clothes, one ankle resting on the opposite knee as he read.

He looked at ease, without a hint of workday tension. “You're not going to the office?” “No.” “Why?” He slowly looked up, his expression strange. “There isn't anything urgent.

I don't have to go.” “Why? Don't you want me here?” I pressed my lips together, shook my head, and headed for the dining room. Footsteps followed.

I turned. “What are you doing?” “Having breakfast.” “You've been awake this whole time and haven't eaten?” “I was waiting for you.” I stared at him. Waiting for me?

Wasn't this the man who had spent the last few weeks leaving before dawn and coming home after dark? Now he had waited for me to eat breakfast? Impossible.

Nobody became this attentive without wanting something. I took a seat. Grant sat beside me. I bit into a bagel. He pushed the eggs toward me. I chewed in silence.

Then he said, “I heard you telling Mom that you booked a maternity photographer. What time is the shoot?” “I'll go with you—” The coffee in my mouth sprayed out.

A few drops landed on his cool, handsome face. I reached over without thinking to wipe them away. The moment my fingertips touched his cheek, he caught my wrist.

His brown eyes held a dark irritation. “What are you afraid of?” “That someone will find out and get upset?” “Or did you plan to take the photos with someone else?

Are you afraid I'll get in the way?” One question followed another, leaving my mind blank. What was he talking about? Who was this someone else?

Before I could make sense of it, he continued. “Am I your legal husband?” “Am I the baby's father in public?” I hesitated for two seconds, then nodded. “In public” wasn't exactly right, but it wasn't exactly wrong either. “Then…” He paused. “Why can't I be in the maternity photos with you?” I blinked. “Did I say you couldn't?” One brow lifted.

Satisfaction curved his mouth. “Good. It's settled.” “I'm going with you.” I had assumed Grant meant he would stand off to the side and watch. He meant he would be in every picture.

During the shoot, he was unbelievably cooperative. He smiled when the photographer asked. He posed exactly as directed. Not once did he resist.

Then the photographer told him to kiss my belly—and Grant actually did