Apologies, Mr Playboy. I'm Pregnant.

Apologies, Mr Playboy. I'm Pregnant.

wilbright2002

4.9
Comment(s)
7.5K
View
81
Chapters

"If you thought you had just escaped hell, then you're wrong. Because you are in hell, Camille. And neither you nor that bastard child will come out alive," he spat, his voice shaking with rage. His words sent a shiver down her spine. "WELCOME TO HELL, CAMILLE!" he shrieked maniacally, as the guards dragged him away. "WELCOME TO HELL!" ⸻ In a country where the price of murder is murder, Camille Owens is accused of killing her birth father, David Owens. Locked up with no hope of escaping her execution, Camille Owens has only one solution to save her head: pregnancy. She had to be pregnant-and her only choice of a baby's father was none other than the General's son, Pierce Landon, the son of the only man in Ventria powerful enough to spare her life. But Pierce Landon had vowed never to bear an heir for his father-and when he learns the truth, he will do anything to erase the mistake... even if it means murdering her.

Apologies, Mr Playboy. I'm Pregnant. Chapter 1 HER WAY OUT

It was 1 a.m., and the world was fast asleep-but not Joyce Albert. She was waiting outside La Reserve Hotel for a certain playboy to be done having a good time.

"Camille, I'm doing this for you," she mumbled to herself, tapping her fingers on her shoulders. Her friend's only shot at escaping death row depended on her getting pregnant-and Joyce knew it.

She might not have shown it when her friend requested the impossible from her, but she knew what Camille had asked wasn't morally right.

But-

Camille had been there for her, many more times than she could count. It was Camille who saved her from her abusive father and made sure he never laid a finger on her again. It was Camille who implored Mr David Owens to send her to school. And still Camille who protected her from bullies.

To her, her childhood, teenage years, and even her youth were memorable because of Camille. And so, she had to do anything to save her friend from the grasp of death-even if it meant going against her morals.

"The money?" a voice asked from behind her. Joyce turned around, breathing a sigh of relief. She thought the lady might have gone back on her word.

"I have to see it first," Joyce said, trying her best to appear composed. "Is it in good condition?"

The lady, barely clad in anything, nodded. "Yeah, I did exactly as you instructed. Stored it just as you wanted-still warm and fresh."

"And were you caught?"

"Nope. Everyone was high and having a good time. None of them noticed I was saving some of his sperm for later. Now give me my money so I can get the fuck out of here?" the stripper hissed, pushing the small plastic container into Joyce's hand.

Joyce pulled out a brown envelope filled with cash and handed it to the lady.

"If you need more sperm, call me," the stripper winked, walking away.

Joyce brought out a small flask from inside her bag-Camille had instructed her to get one that matched human body temperature. That way, the sperm would stay viable for at least an hour.

After tightly shutting the flask, Joyce rushed out of the hotel. A taxi was already waiting, so she got in, and the driver sped off. She had already used up seven minutes with the stripper. It would take five more to reach the prison.

Joyce held the flask in her hand and murmured, "I can make it."

The driver didn't stop at the front gate of the prison; instead, he pulled up at the back door, where an officer was waiting for her.

She handed the flask to the officer, with a brown envelope tucked underneath it.

The officer coughed, glancing around as he slipped the envelope into his pocket. "I'm to believe whatever's in here is a little snack, right?"

"I'm paying you to believe so," Joyce replied, staring him down. "You have to get it to her now."

"Of course..."

The officer walked into the prison, then handed the flask to the female warden.

"Give this to the new inmate-Inmate 275. And do it now."

The female warden stared at the flask suspiciously, then back at the officer. "What's inside?" she asked.

The officer brought out the brown envelope, split the money in half, and handed her a share.

"That's a lot of money. Should I be worried about what's in the flask?" the warden asked, eyeing the cash.

"Do you want it or not? Last time I checked, you never cared even if it was a bomb being smuggled in." The officer raised an eyebrow, ready to take the money back.

If she wouldn't do the job, there were plenty of others who would-for less. After all, the government didn't pay them enough to be upright officers.

The warden exhaled, weighing the money in her palm. "Fine. I'll deliver it."

Truthfully, she didn't want to know what was in the flask. If she did, it would mean she was indirectly involved.

She walked briskly past the countless cells, holding the flask as if it belonged to her, nodding to guards as they greeted her.

"Inmate 275," she called, using her baton to strike the iron bars of Camille's cell.

Camille stood up from her bed and walked to the gate. The warden handed her the flask, then turned and left.

Camille opened the flask and walked back to her bed. Inside was a small plastic container-containing the sperm of Pierce Landon, son of General Landon.

There was also a note from her friend:

'I did exactly as you instructed. The sperm should be alright. Now, do what you have to do-and make sure the real murderer of your father won't have a place to hide in this world.'

Camille read the note with a smile on her lips.

'Camille Owens, you have been found guilty of the crime of murder under Section 365 of the Sovereign Republic of Ventria 210.2. According to Section 365 of our law, a person who commits murder is punishable by death. The evidence presented before this court has left no doubt as to your guilt. Therefore, it is the duty of this court to impose the sentence prescribed by law. Camille Owens, you are hereby sentenced to death for the murder of David Owens.'

She was found guilty of killing her father-there was a glass lodged in her father's throat and it had her fingerprint. But Camille wasn't about to take the punishment for a crime she didn't commit.

She held the small plastic container in her hand and murmured, "I hope this works. It has to."

Two Months Later

Camille followed the warden as she was led to the execution grounds. She had no fear in her-because her plan had worked.

She'd noticed the signs: fatigue, nausea, the absence of her period. And today, it would be confirmed. For the first time in her life, she was glad she didn't study business as her father had wanted-but medicine instead. Her knowledge was what was saving her now.

You'd expect an execution ground to look more ominous, Camille thought, walking into the nicely decorated room. It looked nothing like her cell. It resembled a five-star hotel-minus the luxury bed.

"I want the last thing a prisoner on death row sees to be a beautiful world," explained the man seated in a large black armchair, who appeared to be in charge of her execution.

"You can call me Mr Steven," he added.

Camille couldn't explain why, but the smile on his face irked her-just like the dark suit he was wearing.

"Sit over there," the warden said to Camille, pointing to a small dining table made for one.

Camille sat down, wondering if she should play her hidden card now or wait.

Before her was what looked like an open kitchen. With curiosity, she watched a man dressed in white chef's clothing step out. He stood before her and bowed lightly.

"Good evening, Ms Camille Owens. My name is Zach, and I'll be your private chef tonight."

"You can order anything you want, and I'll prepare it right away," Chef Zach said, smiling brightly.

At the mention of food, her stomach rumbled. But Camille was no fool, she was told she would be poisoned. So wasn't it convenient that her executioner offered her food?

"I was told I'd be poisoned, and I just wondered if my food would have poison it," Camille replied.

"Does it matter?" Mr Steven asked.

"Yes, it does-because I don't plan on dying tonight," Camille said calmly, meeting his eyes without flinching. "I'm pregnant,"

Mr Steven laughed. "Couldn't you come up with a more believable lie? You can't be pregnant. You were examined when you were brought here."

"Then check again," Camille shrugged.

Mr Steven turned to the chef. "Feed her the poison directly if she won't eat."

"I guess you won't mind explaining to the General why you murdered his grandchild."

Mr Steven's face darkened. "Give her the poison now," he snapped.

The chef grabbed the bottle that held the poison and walked toward Camille.

Her heartbeat accelerated. She stared at Mr Steven, fear clawing up her throat- but she showed none of it.

"Go ahead," she said, her voice steady. "But everyone knows how desperate the General is for an heir. When he comes for your head, don't say I didn't warn you."

Mr Steven could tell she wasn't lying. Her voice and her eyes told him she was serious.

With a groan, he barked, "Fetch the doctor. Now."

The warden left. Minutes later, she returned with the doctor, who immediately got to work. A needle pricked Camille's arm, drawing blood swiftly.

"Make sure the results are accurate. If you get it wrong, your head and mine will be on the line."

The doctor nodded and left.

Mr Steven turned to the warden. "Take her to her cell. In three hours, we'll know if she's telling the truth-or just a really good liar."

The warden led Camille back through the prison and locked her in again.

Camille heard nothing nothing the entire day. She was restless. Had she misread the signs? Was she really not pregnant? The thoughts clawed at her.

But just as she was about to lose hope, she heard:

"Inmate 275."

Camille stood and walked to the gate. The warden unlocked her cell.

"Follow me."

She was led through long corridors, metal doors, and finally, to a secret exit at the edge of the prison.

Outside, a black limousine waited.

"I don't know how you did it, but your test came back positive," Mr Steven said, standing beside the car. "But I should let you know-the General isn't as nice as you think. If that child isn't his grandson, you'll wish you had died in that room."

Camille said nothing and got into the car.

As the engine roared to life and they drove out of the prison, Camille had no time to enjoy the view of Ventria.

She was about to play a game-one where her chances were fifty-fifty.

Her hand settled over her stomach.

"Is this really the only way?" she whispered.

But she knew-there was no other choice. Her plan was already in motion.

She sighed, staring at her reflection in the tinted window. The woman she had become stared back.

"Well... time to meet my baby's father-and grandfather."

Continue Reading

Other books by wilbright2002

More

You'll also like

One Night With The Wrong Brother

One Night With The Wrong Brother

Tangye Wanzi
5.0

I thought I was waking up in the arms of Arthur, the man I loved. But as the morning light hit the Hamptons estate, the man buttoning his cuffs by the window turned around with eyes like chips of ice. It was Augustus Riddle, Arthur’s cruel younger brother, and I had just spent the night whispering confessions of love into the wrong man's ear. The night I thought was a beautiful beginning turned into a devastating nightmare. Instead of comfort, Gus treated me like a stain on his expensive carpet, scribbling a check for "services rendered" before shoving me into a dark service corridor to hide my existence from his brother. "How much does it cost to buy your silence?" He sneered, before leaving me barefoot in a torrential downpour while he drove away in a luxury Cadillac. Four years later, I am a struggling actress in Los Angeles, working double shifts as a barista just to keep the lights on. My life was finally stable until my roommate dragged me to a high-end dinner to meet her new "influential" boyfriend. The man sitting at the table, looking more arrogant and lethal than ever, was Augustus. He spent the entire night humiliating me, calling me a pathetic amateur and a social climber in front of my only friends. When I fled into the rain and collapsed on the sidewalk, skinning my knee until I bled, he watched from his car. He saw me clutching a plastic baggie containing the taped-together pieces of that four-year-old check—the only proof of my shame. He looked at me like roadkill, rolled up his window, and drove off into the dark. I couldn't understand why he was doing this. Why did he hate me enough to crush me, yet remember that I couldn't handle the smell of cigarette smoke? Why did he leave me bleeding in the street, only to send expensive medical supplies and coffee to my door the very next morning? "I'm moving out." I told my roommates, realizing that Gus Riddle didn't just want to destroy me; he wanted to haunt me. I grabbed my suitcase and walked out with eighty dollars to my name, finally ready to disappear into the city before he could burn the rest of my life to the ground.

The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire

The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire

Rollins Laman
4.8

The heavy thud of the release stamp was the only goodbye I got from the warden after five years in federal prison. I stepped out into the blinding sun, expecting the same flash of paparazzi bulbs that had seen me dragged away in handcuffs, but there was only a single black limousine idling on the shoulder of the road. Inside sat my mother and sister, clutching champagne and looking at my frayed coat with pure disgust. They didn't offer a welcome home; instead, they tossed a thick legal document onto the table and told me I was dead to the city. "Gavin and I are getting engaged," my sister Mia sneered, flicking a credit card at me like I was a stray dog. "He doesn't need a convict ex-fiancée hanging around." Even after I saved their lives from an armed kidnapping attempt by ramming the attackers off the road, they rewarded me by leaving me stranded in the dirt. When I finally ran into Gavin, the man who had framed me, he pinned me against a wall and threatened to send me back to a cell if I ever dared to show my face at their wedding. They had stolen my biotech research, ruined my name, and let me rot for half a decade while they lived off my brilliance. They thought they had broken me, leaving me with nothing but an expired chapstick and a few old photos in a plastic bag. What they didn't know was that I had spent those five years becoming "Dr. X," a shadow consultant with five hundred million dollars in crypto and a secret that would bring the city to its knees. I wasn't just a victim anymore; I was a weapon, and I was pregnant with the heir they thought they had erased. I walked into the Melton estate and made an offer to the most powerful man in New York. "I'll save your grandfather's life," I told Horatio Melton, staring him down. "But the price is your last name. I'm taking back what's mine, and I'm starting with the man who thinks he's marrying my sister."

The Billionaire's Blind Bride: No Mercy

The Billionaire's Blind Bride: No Mercy

Emma
4.3

I married Clive Harrington, the coldest billionaire in Manhattan, under a strict contract that forbade any emotional burdens. When I needed a high-risk surgery to save my sight, I checked into the clinic alone, hiding the procedure from a husband who saw me as nothing more than a legal asset. I thought I could handle the darkness in silence. But while I was blind and bandaged in my hospital bed, my biological mother called, screaming that if I didn't produce a Harrington heir by the end of the fiscal year, she would cut off the life-saving treatments for my disabled sister. I was crawling on the cold hospital floor, desperately feeling for a cane I had dropped, when I touched a pair of expensive leather shoes. It was Clive. He was supposed to be in London closing a multi-million dollar deal, but there he was, watching his "contract wife" groveling in the dark like a beggar. He didn't walk away in disgust. He carried me to a five-thousand-dollar-a-night VIP suite and sat by my bed, listening in chilling silence as another voicemail from my mother filled the room, calling me a "useless broodmare" who was only worth the trust fund disbursements my marriage secured. I expected him to remind me of Clause 34B or hand me divorce papers now that I was "damaged goods." Instead, I felt his thumb brush a stray tear from my cheek, his presence shifting from a statue of ice into a predatory shield. "I thought I was just currency to you," I whispered, my voice trembling behind the gauze. "Just an investment." Clive didn't answer with words. He picked up his phone and called his head of legal with a single, terrifying command: "Kill the Douglas family’s credit lines. Every debt, every lien—trigger them all. If they want a war, I’ll give them a massacre." As he leaned down to kiss my bandaged forehead, I realized the contract was dead. My husband wasn't protecting an asset anymore; he was hunting the people who had dared to touch what belonged to him.

One Night With My Billionaire Boss

One Night With My Billionaire Boss

Nathaniel Stone
4.5

I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn. Beside me lay Ezra Gardner—my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers. He didn’t offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement. "Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins." He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend’s apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I’d spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes. I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe. "Showtime, Mrs. Gardner." Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend’s face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book
Apologies, Mr Playboy. I'm Pregnant. Apologies, Mr Playboy. I'm Pregnant. wilbright2002 Romance
“"If you thought you had just escaped hell, then you're wrong. Because you are in hell, Camille. And neither you nor that bastard child will come out alive," he spat, his voice shaking with rage. His words sent a shiver down her spine. "WELCOME TO HELL, CAMILLE!" he shrieked maniacally, as the guards dragged him away. "WELCOME TO HELL!" ⸻ In a country where the price of murder is murder, Camille Owens is accused of killing her birth father, David Owens. Locked up with no hope of escaping her execution, Camille Owens has only one solution to save her head: pregnancy. She had to be pregnant-and her only choice of a baby's father was none other than the General's son, Pierce Landon, the son of the only man in Ventria powerful enough to spare her life. But Pierce Landon had vowed never to bear an heir for his father-and when he learns the truth, he will do anything to erase the mistake... even if it means murdering her.”
1

Chapter 1 HER WAY OUT

09/07/2025

2

Chapter 2 THE PLAYBOY'S THREAT

09/07/2025

3

Chapter 3 THE ESTATE SECRET.

09/07/2025

4

Chapter 4 THE TOUR

09/07/2025

5

Chapter 5 WELCOME TO HELL

09/07/2025

6

Chapter 6 THE FUN HAS ONLY JUST BEGUN

09/07/2025

7

Chapter 7 WORKPLACE ACCIDENT

09/07/2025

8

Chapter 8 THE DEVIL SHE KNOWS.

09/07/2025

9

Chapter 9 A DIFFERENT KIND OF STORY

09/07/2025

10

Chapter 10 DEATH OR DEATH

09/07/2025

11

Chapter 11 THE HELL SHE CHOSE.

09/07/2025

12

Chapter 12 HIS HELL

10/07/2025

13

Chapter 13 HIS SEDUCTION

10/07/2025

14

Chapter 14 THE GAME OF SEDUCTION

10/07/2025

15

Chapter 15 THE POISON SHE IS

10/07/2025

16

Chapter 16 LUST-HATE RELATIONSHIP

10/07/2025

17

Chapter 17 HER SURVIVAL

11/07/2025

18

Chapter 18 SAVE ME

11/07/2025

19

Chapter 19 THE FIGHT

11/07/2025

20

Chapter 20 HIS BURNING DESIRES

11/07/2025

21

Chapter 21 FEELINGS UNKNOWN

13/07/2025

22

Chapter 22 JEALOUSY OR... MAYBE NOT.

13/07/2025

23

Chapter 23 THINGS LEFT UNSAID

14/07/2025

24

Chapter 24 AFTER THE COLORS FADE...

14/07/2025

25

Chapter 25 NOT HER. NEVER HER.

14/07/2025

26

Chapter 26 THE SAVIOR HE ISN'T

14/07/2025

27

Chapter 27 BEHIND HIS MASK

14/07/2025

28

Chapter 28 BETWEEN MERCY AND MADNESS.

14/07/2025

29

Chapter 29 ONE TOO MANY BEATS.

15/07/2025

30

Chapter 30 HIS TRUE FEELINGS.

15/07/2025

31

Chapter 31 IF HE CARED

17/07/2025

32

Chapter 32 THE ONE FOR HER.

17/07/2025

33

Chapter 33 HER SHAMELESS OBEDIENCE.

18/07/2025

34

Chapter 34 BETTY'S OBSESSION

18/07/2025

35

Chapter 35 THE LANDON'S MYSTERY.

19/07/2025

36

Chapter 36 RUIN ME.

19/07/2025

37

Chapter 37 THE AFTERMATH.

20/07/2025

38

Chapter 38 THE WEIGHT OF GOODBYE.

20/07/2025

39

Chapter 39 PLEASE... SAVE HER.

21/07/2025

40

Chapter 40 THE BEGINNING OF LETTING GO.

21/07/2025