I Aborted His Billionaire Heir

The girl sitting across from me was someone Id met only a handful of times, yet the look in her eyes was a mixture of pity and quiet satisfaction.

Derek is only with you for revenge, she said, pushing a manila folder across the polished table. He made a bet with the guys. He said hed make you fall in love with him, just to watch you break.

She leaned in, lowering her voice. "And hes not some uneducated grease monkey working for minimum wage. Hes the youngest heir to the Lockhart fortune."

I stared at the documents, the photographs, the bank statements.

Slowly, my hand drifted down to rest against my still-flat stomach.

Inside my pocket, my fingers tightened around the folded ultrasound results Id received just two hours ago.

01

I dont even remember how I walked to the auto repair shop where Derek worked.

He was sitting on the hood of a banged-up sedan, running a hand through his messy hair. He flicked his bangs out of his eyes and let out a dry, mocking laugh.

"That old lady texted me again," he said to the guy standing next to him. "Asking what I want for dinner."

"Her cooking is so incredibly bland," he continued, scoffing. "Everything she makes tastes like cardboard."

The other guy chuckled, clearly enjoying the show. "Hey, your one-year anniversary is in three days, right? For that fake birthday you made up, she emptied her pockets to buy you that ten-thousand-dollar watch. What do you think shes going to buy you this time?"

Derek made a clicking sound with his tongue. "That piece of garbage? Its not even worth a fraction of the tax on my real watches. If I wore that out, you guys would laugh me out of the city.

"So where is it?"

"I tossed it to a pretty waitress at the club last weekend."

The two of them burst into laughter.

I looked down and realized my hands were shaking.

On my phone screen, Dereks last text message glared back at me: Anything you make is perfect, babe. I love your cooking.

02

A year ago, a group of drunk, rowdy guys had started a fight at the bar where my friend worked. I was the one who called the police. During the chaos, when one particularly arrogant punk tried to lung at her, I had kicked him square in the face, leaving a pair of nasty scratches on his cheek.

A few weeks later, I was having dinner at a quiet diner when another brawl broke out.

In the middle of the screaming and shattering glass, a heavy wooden chair came flying toward me. Before I could react, someone threw himself in front of me, taking the blow.

It was himthe arrogant punk from the bar.

I brought him back to my tiny apartment to clean his cuts.

The fierce, dangerous edge he usually wore vanished completely. Instead, he looked at me with a soft, vulnerable expression.

"I had to pay for the damages at the bar," he murmured, looking down at his hands. "Im completely broke now. And because I stepped in to protect you, I lost my job."

He looked up, those beautiful, puppy-dog eyes filled with a desperate plea. "Norie... can I stay here for just a few days?"

I looked into those eyes and sighed, unable to turn him away.

Later, he told me he had found a job at a local auto shop. He said he wanted to change, to build a real life.

With his very first paycheck, he bought me a bouquet of wild flowers.

"Norie, please don't make me leave."

And then, slowly, the boundaries blurred.

"Norie, I got a bonus today. It's all yours."

"Norie, can I kiss you?"

"Norie, I love you."

...

Chelsea told me the diner fight had been set up from the start.

A carefully orchestrated play designed specifically for me.

"He made a bet with us," she said calmly. "He wanted to date you for exactly a year, and then dump you on the anniversary after telling you the whole truth."

I sat in silence for a long time. "Why are you telling me this now?"

She shrugged. "Because you just saved my little sister's life in the ER earlier today. Call it professional courtesy, or karma. Besides, I bet my new Porsche on this game. Id hate to see him win."

03

I clutched the crumpled piece of paperthe lab results confirming I was two months pregnantand walked the gray streets of Boston, retracing my steps over and over.

By the time the shadows of dusk settled over the city, I finally opened the door to our apartment.

Derek immediately threw his arms around me, burying his face in my neck and whining like he always did.

"Where were you? You said youd be home early to cook!"

I looked at his bare wrist. "The watch I bought you... why do you never wear it?"

He stiffened for a fraction of a second. "Oh... its just too precious. Im afraid Ill scratch it at the shop. I keep it locked away safely."

To buy him that watch for his birthday, I had taken on extra freelance consulting work at night. I worked my day job, then stayed up until two or three in the morning, staring at a glowing screen.

One morning, I had fainted from exhaustion on a crowded subway car during rush hour. Even then, I only allowed myself to take an hour off before heading back to the office.

It had taken me nearly three months of starving my own needs to save up that money.

I forced a tight smile, gently pushed him away, and walked past him into the bedroom.

He frowned, following close behind.

"Did that idiot manager of yours yell at you again? I told you that company is garbage. You need to quit..."

I spun around, my voice sharper than it had ever been. "And which company isn't garbage, Derek? The Lockhart Group?"

"They framed me for corporate espionage. They fired me and sued me for hundreds of thousands of dollars. Overnight, I went from having a career to being completely bankrupted, blacklisted from the entire industry. Is that your idea of a good company?"

He froze, the color draining from his face.

Not long after the night at the bar, the general manager of the Lockhart Group had shown up at my office with a team of high-powered corporate lawyers. They accused me of leaking proprietary trade secrets, claiming I had caused millions in damages.

I was fired, my savings were seized, and my reputation was thoroughly ruined.

I had spent the last year believing I was just a casualty of corporate politics, a convenient scapegoat for some executives mistake.

I never imagined it was all because I had offended the golden child of the Lockhart family. A boy five years younger than me playing a twisted game of revenge.

I closed my eyes, feeling a profound exhaustion settle into my bones.

"Derek, let's not do this anymore"

The sharp ring of his phone cut me off.

Derek answered, spoke in low, hushed tones, and then hung up. He looked at me, his voice softening into that sweet, familiar cadence. "The shop just got a major delivery. They need me to go in for an emergency shift."

I stared at him for a long, quiet moment, searching his face for any flicker of the boy I thought I loved.

I swallowed the words rising in my throat.

"Okay."

Derek didn't come home that night.

Instead, my phone buzzed with a new photo from Chelsea. Under the dim, amber lights of a VIP lounge, Derek was leaning close to a stunning young woman. He was taking a glass from her hand, his nose nearly brushing against hers.

I turned off the screen.

In that photo, a single bottle of champagne on the table cost more than the watch I had nearly killed myself to buy him.

For the past year, I had skipped buying coffee, walked past bakeries, and counted every penny.

When he casually mentioned he wanted cherries, I bought the organic ones at twelve dollars a pound. When he needed a jacket for the winter, I took him to the mall and spent three hundred dollars on a coat without a second thought.

But when it came to myself, I spent hours comparing prices online before buying a pair of twenty-dollar canvas sneakers.

What had he been thinking when I handed him that watch with such hope and love in my eyes?

God, even his birthday was a lie.

I curled up on the bed, clutching the duvet to my chest, and let the tears fall in the dark, silent room.

04

The next morning, I left the apartment early.

My landlord called to ask if I wanted to renew the lease.

I stared at the peeling paint on the hallway wall. "No, I won't be renewing. I'll be out in... a week."

The apartment was tiny, barely big enough for the two of us.

Yet, during our quietest nights, Derek would gently stroke my stomach and whisper in my ear, "Do you think we'll have a baby one day? If we do, this place is going to be way too small for them to run around."

"Im going to work so hard, Norie. I'm going to buy a big house for you and our baby."

The memory made my chest ache so violently I had to lean against the wall, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

When I stood up, the world spun, and I nearly collapsed.

A colleague caught my arm, her eyes full of worry. "Nora, are you okay? You look pale. Let me drive you home."

The moment I unlocked the front door, Derek grabbed me, pinning me against the wall with a cold, furious expression.

"Why haven't you been answering my texts? Why did you decline my calls?"

"And who the hell was that guy who just dropped you off? Why were you smiling at him?"

I stared at him blankly. My mind kept looping back to how incredibly realistic his acting was.

If I hadn't seen the evidence, if I hadn't heard his voice on that recording, I would have sworn he was madly, desperately in love with me.

"Derek, don't you ever get tired of this?"

He blinked, his grip tightening on my wrists. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you tired of me?"

The image of him and that girl in the VIP lounge flashed behind my eyes.

I lowered my gaze, pulling my hands free. "Yes."

Anger flared in his eyes. He leaned in, trapping me against the wall again, and bent his head to kiss me.

I jerked my head to the side to avoid him, and a sudden wave of nausea hit me. I gagged.

He froze, looking at me with pure disbelief. "Am I disgusting to you now?"

"You didn't seem disgusted when that guy was touching you! You smile at him like that, but you can't even stand my touch?!"

My colleague had only been helping me carry my bags.

But I didn't care to explain. I struggled to push him away.

His fury only mounted. "What kind of loser is he anyway? Is that who youre downgrading to?"

"Am I not enough to satisfy you anymore, or are older women just that desperate when they're lonely?"

I froze.

The exact words from the recording echoed in my mind: Just a lonely, desperate older woman.

My eyes stung with hot tears. Before I could stop myself, I raised my hand and slapped him across the face.

The sharp sound cracked through the small room.

The air instantly turned to ice.

He stared at me, his jaw clenched, a muscle twitching in his cheek.

After a long, agonizing moment, he let go of me, turned on his heel, and walked out, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled.

I slid down against the wall, burying my face in my knees as my strength drained away.

05

At eight that evening, my boss called, demanding I meet a client at a high-end private club downtown.

"If we close this deal, I'll make sure you get a ten-thousand-dollar bonus at the end of the month!"

I dragged my exhausted body out of bed. "Fine. I'll be there."

When I pushed open the door to the private VIP suite, my heart stopped.

Sitting on the plush leather sofas were the very same men I had hoped to never see again.

The man in the center, Brody, let out a loud laugh. "Well, look at that. I wondered who Davies was talking about when he said he was sending his best project manager. It's Nora."

His lips curled into a nasty smirk. "Were old friends, aren't we?"

They were.

Six months ago, these same men had cornered me in a private room, claiming Derek had gotten into a fight with one of them and demanding seventy thousand dollars in damages.

Remembering the bruises Derek had tried to hide and his terrified, silent behavior, my protective instincts had flared. I had cried out, "This is extortion!"

Brody had laughed, holding up a bottle of expensive whiskey. "Do you know who we are? Extortion? If I wanted to, I could have him ruined permanently."

My blood had run cold. Then Brody had smiled. "But I don't like being hard on pretty women. Drink this, and we'll call it even."

I had stared at the row of bottles for what felt like an eternity before picking them up, one by one.

By the end, I was violently ill, vomiting onto the polished floor while they stood around me, pointing and laughing.

"Look at how pathetic she is."

"Like a dog."

"So sad."

When the bottles were empty, Brody had knelt down, studying my tear-streaked, pale face. "She really is an idiot," he had muttered.

They left me there. I had lain in my own sickness until the morning cleaning crew kicked me awake.

I had never told Derek. I wanted to protect him.

And now, here they were again.

I clenched my fists, but as I glanced around the room, my eyes caught on a jacket draped over the arm of the sofa.

It was Dereks designer jacket.

My gaze snapped back to Brodys face. Suddenly, a memory clickeda graduation photo Chelsea had shown me of Derek's friends from his time studying in London.

The guy laughing right behind Derek in the photo... was Brody.

A wave of intense dizziness washed over me. I dug my fingernails into my palms until the pain kept me grounded.

Brody smiled. "Since were old friends, let's play by the old rules."

He slid a bottle of heavy liquor across the table. "Finish this, and I'll sign the contract."

I stared blankly at the closed doors around the suite. The bathroom door was shut. The door to the adjoining private room was shut.

Where was Derek?

Was he hiding behind one of those doors, watching me? What expression was on his face right now?

I opened the bottle, poured a full glass, and raised it.

Then, I threw the amber liquid straight into Brodys face.

Gasps echoed through the room.

Brody wiped the alcohol from his eyes, his expression turning venomous. Before I could even register his movement, his hand came flying down, slamming into my face.

I crashed hard onto the floor.

My ears rang, and a dull throbbing started in my temple.

"Nora," Brody sneered, looking down at me. "I tried to be nice."

A sharp, terrifying cramp flared in my lower abdomen. I clutched my stomach, my entire body beginning to shiver.

So this was my punishment.

My punishment for slapping the Lockhart family's precious little prince earlier today.

I remembered the last time I had been forced to drink. Derek and I had just had a massive fight because I called him irresponsible and lazy.

The proud little prince had been offended, so his friends had punished me to make him feel better.

Was he watching me now, lying bruised on the floor? Was he finally satisfied?

I slowly pushed myself up. Without looking at anyone, ignoring my bosss frantic shouts, I turned and walked out of the room.

By the time I unlocked the door to my apartment, every ounce of strength had left my body.

06

Derek didn't come back until the first pale light of dawn began to creep through the windows.

He was wearing the exact same jacket Id seen on the sofa at the club.

When he saw me sitting in the dark living room, he startled. "Why are you up so early?"

When I didn't reply, his expression softened into something resembling guilt. "Are you still mad? I... I lost my temper yesterday. I know he was just a colleague. I'm sorry, Norie."

He walked over and knelt beside me, burying his face in my lap. "Let's make up, okay? Norie, please."

I placed my hands on his shoulders and firmly pushed him away.

As his brow furrowed in confusion, I turned my laptop toward him and hit play.

He froze.

On the screen, a video was playing. It was me, kneeling on the floor of that VIP room six months ago, covered in alcohol and my own sickness, while his friends laughed hysterically in the background.

Dereks face went entirely white.

When I had returned home last night, I found his personal laptopthe one he usually kept locked in a drawersitting on the coffee table.

Prompted by some dark instinct, I had opened it.

The password hadn't been hard to guess. It was the date of our fake one-year anniversary.

And there, in a folder, I found the video.

He lunged forward, grabbing my hands. "Norie, please, let me explain"

I yanked my hands back, my vision blurring with hot, stinging tears.

"Was it fun?" My voice trembled, breaking as I looked at him. "Did you feel powerful watching me like this? Did it make you feel good?"

I grabbed the laptop and slammed it down onto the floor in front of him, the plastic casing cracking. "You're a monster, Derek."

Panic flared in his eyes. "No, Norie, its not like that..."

"Stop," I whispered, my voice completely dead. "Stop acting, little prince. I know everything."

"We're done. It's over."