Accidental Dad Intentional Love

Accidental Dad Intentional Love

Young Codex

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That night, I sold my body, but he bought my soul. Lucas, a stranger with piercing eyes and a gentle touch. Our encounter was a fleeting escape from reality. But reality caught up, and I was left with a secret that would change everything. Eight months later, I stood before him, my heart racing, my voice steady. 'I'm pregnant.' Two words that shattered our worlds. His eyes widened, his face pale. The billionaire's mask slipped, revealing a man torn between guilt and duty. And I, Eva, held the key to his destiny."

Chapter 1 The Last Time

Accidental Dad, Intentional Love

Written by: Young Codex

Chapter One

Yeah. I'm a prostitute.

The words echoed in my mind as I stared at the mirror in my dimly lit bedroom. My reflection didn't lie, no matter how much I wished it would. This was my life, and tonight? Tonight would be my last time.

I couldn't keep living this way. I'd paid off 80% of the debts that chained me to this mess, but my soul couldn't take another minute of it. My chest tightened as my phone beeped. I knew what that sound meant-it was time.

I grabbed my gum and chewed loudly, almost as if the obnoxious sound would drown out the storm in my head. The heels went on, the dress hugged my body perfectly, and I took one last look in the mirror.

" Eva, This is it," I whispered to no one but myself.

The hotel room was upscale-pristine, almost clinical. He was waiting, tall and intimidating, his suit perfectly tailored to his powerful build. He wasn't like the others, though. They were sometimes hungry and rough but not him. There was something about him that made me pause. His gaze was sharp, scanning me like he was trying to read the story behind my eyes.

"What's your name?" he asked, voice low and steady.

I smiled, a practiced, professional smile;and dug into his skin tighter "Let's not complicate things."

That night was different.

With him, it wasn't rushed or mechanical. He didn't treat me like a transaction, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself feel something. It wasn't love, but it was intimate in a way I didn't expect. I'd always been good at keeping emotions out of the job, but this time... this time, I didn't want to.

When it was over, I stayed awake in the bed long after he left, staring at the ceiling and replaying every moment.

MONTHS LATER

I hadn't planned to think about him again, but life had other plans. The nausea came first, then the exhaustion, and then the undeniable truth: I was pregnant.

My first instinct was to panic. Abortions had always been an option for women like me, but when I thought about that tiny heartbeat, I couldn't do it. I couldn't.

But I also couldn't raise this child alone. Not after how I grew up-fatherless and feeling like half of me was missing. My baby deserved better, even if I had to fight for it.

The office building was massive, intimidating, and reeked of power. But I wasn't here to be intimidated. I was here for my child.

I marched into his office, unannounced. The receptionist's protests faded as I pushed the door open. He was behind the desk inscribed - Lucas Gold, engrossed in something on his laptop, until he saw me. His eyes; a glint of recognition.

"You," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"Yeah, me," I replied, crossing my arms.

His brow furrowed. "What do you want? More money?"

I laughed bitterly. "You think this is about money? You think I need your money?"

He leaned forward, his gaze cold. "Then what?"

"I'm pregnant !" I said like it was some bombshell

"So you're going to tell me I'm the father, right? Do you even know how many men..."

"Don't," I snapped, cutting him off. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by my tone.

"I'm not here for your money. I don't need anything from you except one thing-your presence. My baby isn't growing up without a father. Not like I did."

He stared at me for a long time, the silence heavy between us. "You think you can just show up here and-"

"I don't think," I interrupted, my voice steady. "I know. You're the father. And you're going to step up, whether you like it or not."

He leaned back again, exhaling sharply. "You have some nerve."

"You have no idea," I shot back, holding his gaze.

I stared into his eyes and I could read them, guilt...But I didn't care what he was feeling. This wasn't about him.

This was about my baby.

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I had just survived a private jet crash, my body a map of violet bruises and my lungs still burning from the smoke. I woke up in a sterile hospital room, gasping for my husband's name, only to realize I was completely alone. While I was bleeding in a ditch, my husband, Adam, was on the news smiling at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. When I tracked him down at the hospital's VIP wing, I didn't find a grieving husband. I found him tenderly cradling his ex-girlfriend, Casie, in his arms, his face lit with a protective warmth he had never shown me as he carried her into the maternity ward. The betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. Adam admitted the affair started on our third anniversary-the night he claimed he was stuck in London for a merger. Back at the manor, his mother had already filled our planned nursery with pink boutique bags for Casie's "little princess." When I demanded a divorce, Adam didn't flinch. He sneered that I was "gutter trash" from a foster home and that I'd be begging on the streets within a week. To trap me, he froze my bank accounts, cancelled my flight, and even called the police to report me for "theft" of company property. I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was a charity case he had plucked from obscurity to manage his life. To the Hortons, I was just a servant who happened to sleep in the master bedroom, a "resilient" woman meant to endure his abuse in silence while the whole world laughed at the joke that was my marriage. Adam thought stripping me of his money would make me crawl back to him. He was wrong. I walked into his executive suite during his biggest deal of the year and poured a mug of sludge over his original ten-million-dollar contracts. Then, right in front of his board and his mistress, I stripped off every designer thread he had ever paid for until I was standing in nothing but my own silk camisole. "You can keep the clothes, Adam. They're as hollow as you are." I grabbed my passport, turned my back on his billions, and walked out of that glass tower barefoot, bleeding, and finally free.

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