Rejected by My Fated Mate: The Billionaire Princess

Aria Hayes POV:

"Push harder, Zack! Right there!"

The muffled moan slipped through the crack of the office door, making me freeze.

My fingers, hooked around the satin ribbon of the bakery box, locked tight. Inside rested a lemon cheesecake, fresh from the oven and still warm, baked to celebrate Lockwood Industries preparing to go public. For five years, I had toiled through sleepless nights in our damp basement workshop, breathing in gemstone dust and carving master mold after master mold, believing every drop of sweat was building our future.

Now, eight months pregnant, I stood outside his top-floor executive suite, my swollen belly brushing the cold mahogany door. Through the narrow gap came the heavy scent of wild orchids - Vivian White, my best friend.

"Zack, did you hear? The Sterling family has started searching for their missing daughter again," Vivian said softly. "They say she has slightly pointed ears. If I were their daughter, I could help you get into their circle. Just imagine what that would do for Lockwood Industries."

"Don't be ridiculous," Zack replied with a low chuckle. "You're already the woman standing beside me. You don't need some missing heiress's identity to prove your worth."

Vivian laughed softly. "Still, those pointed ears are such a strange clue. If some nobody suddenly claimed to be the Sterling heiress just because she had them, she'd only be a fake. The real Sterling daughter could never be someone like that."

A sharp contraction seized my lower abdomen, making my knees wobble. I steadied myself against the door and pushed it open.

Behind the sprawling Italian marble desk, Zack sat with his dress shirt torn open, his neck flushed red. Vivian was straddling his lap, her emerald silk dress bunched around her thighs, her fingers tangled in his dark hair. Zack's hands rested on her bare legs.

The ribbon slipped from my grasp.

The box hit the hardwood floor with a dull thud, splitting open. Lemon curd, whipped cream, and golden crust splattered across the polished floorboards.

Zack's head snapped up. A flicker of panic crossed his dark eyes, but it dissolved into an icy, irritated scowl. He did not push Vivian off; he simply began buttoning his cuffs with deliberate calm.

Vivian turned her head, resting her chin on Zack's shoulder, and gave me a smug, triumphant smile.

"What... what are you doing?" The words tore from my dry throat.

"As you can see," Zack said, his tone flat and cold. "You should have knocked, Aria. You have no manners at all."

Vivian slid off his lap with practiced grace and smoothed the folds of her dress. Her high heels clicked against the floor, stopping inches away from me. Her gaze raked over my swollen ankles, my oversized cotton sweater, and the dark circles beneath my eyes.

"Look at yourself, Aria," she purred, dripping with condescension. "A bloated, exhausted mess. Did you really think an Alpha CEO like Zack would stay tied to a woman who smells of wet clay and polishing paste?"

A sharp pain tore through my lower abdomen. I clutched the door frame with white knuckles to stay upright.

"Zack... the baby," cold sweat beaded on my forehead. "Our baby... our five years..."

"Baby?" Zack let out a harsh scoff. He rose from his chair, towering over me as if looking at a stray dog. "I never wanted that burden. As for your little jewelry sketches, I've already squeezed them dry."

He yanked open a desk drawer and slammed a thick stack of documents onto the marble surface.

"Look closely. These are the copyright assignment agreements for every one of your original designs. Every corporate document you signed included terms transferring full ownership to Lockwood Industries. From this second on, you have no claim to this company, and no place in this pack."

My vision blurred. I remembered the late nights when he kissed my cheek, handed me a pen, and told me he was taking care of the tedious legal paperwork so I could rest. Now I understood what those papers had really been for.

Vivian crouched beside the ruined cake. She extended a manicured nail, scooped up a dab of lemon cream, and wiped it onto a silk handkerchief.

"You're pathetic, Aria," she whispered, stepping closer. "Look at you. You're nothing but a wolfless orphan with nothing to your name. Did you really think a man like Zack would waste his life on someone like you? Nobody wants you."

My hand instinctively rose toward my hair. I had hidden the pointed tips of my ears since childhood, especially after years of moving between foster homes. Now Vivian had noticed them too.

The contraction in my lower abdomen peaked into agony. My legs gave out, and my knees slammed into the hard floor.

Zack did not spare me a single glance. He picked up the desk phone, his expression completely blank.

"Security? There is a corporate spy on the executive floor stealing core blueprints. Detain her immediately and hand her over to the police."

"Zack... please..."

The heavy oak doors were shoved open. Two burly security guards marched in, their hands locking around my arms like iron clamps before hauling me off the ground.

I struggled, but my heavy body had no strength left to resist. My shoes dragged against the polished floorboards, leaving scuffs behind. As the elevator doors slid shut, I saw Zack wrap his arm around Vivian's waist, his gaze cold and indifferent.

Vivian met my eyes through the closing gap. Her red lips parted to mouth silent words: Thank you for the designs. And thank you for the man.

The cold bite of metal handcuffs clicked around my swollen wrists. Police sirens wailed through the downtown streets, drowning out my ragged breathing.

At the city detention center, no one listened to my protests. They booked me under felony charges of corporate espionage and grand larceny. They stripped away my coat, shoved me into a freezing holding cell, and slammed the heavy iron bars shut.

I slid down against the damp concrete wall, shivering violently. Inside my belly, the baby kicked with panicked, erratic thumps.

My hands trembled as I pressed them against the firm curve of my stomach. I couldn't die here. My child needed me to survive.

Zack had stolen the paper blueprints, but he could never take the gemstone ratios, the heat-treatment formulas, or the craftsmanship I had spent years mastering. The moment I walked out of those gates, I would take back everything he had built on my work, piece by piece.