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The CEO's Runaway Pregnant Architect

Chapter 7 

Word Count: 661    |    Released on: 15/05/2026

n Knap

to the back of a yellow cab. I placed my suitcase on the seat b

ovie I'd seen a thousand times. I didn't look at it. My gaze was

typed a quick message. *I'm fine, just need some space. We'll talk soon.* It was a s

o be unreachable. But a moment later, the screen lit up. A new iMessage notifi

ren't friends. We weren't even friendly colleagues. She would have had to go

open. There was a photo

rossed casually. She looked proprietary, at home. She was wearing a man's dress shirt-Jayson's dress shirt, the one

o sorry you weren't feeling well last night. Jayson was so worried about yo

words left my lips in

concern. She wasn't telling me Jayson was worried. She was telling me who he ha

For a split second, a hot, vicious r

d to her level. It would be giving her exactly what she wanted:

at could truly wound a person like

the message. I simply locked my

rview mirror. "Rough morning?" he asked

, distant smile. "Jus

ing the clouds, its steel skeleton still exposed. The lead architect on that project was m

d to my eyes. I had so much more

ver, stepped out onto the pavement, and pulled my suitcase behind me. I walked toward

e every morning for five years, saw the suitcase and his eyeb

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The CEO's Runaway Pregnant Architect
The CEO's Runaway Pregnant Architect
“For five years, I was the invisible force behind my charismatic architect boyfriend's empire, painstakingly designing the dream home we built together. But for the eighteenth time, Jayson canceled adding my name to the deed, rushing out on our candlelit dinner for yet another "critical emergency" with his young, attractive mentee, Ciera. He left me alone at our custom dining table, blindly prioritizing her manufactured crises over our future. Hours later, Ciera posted a photo on Instagram. She was sitting in his executive chair, wearing his unbuttoned dress shirt, with two empty wine glasses on the desk. When I finally confronted him the next morning, he didn't apologize. Instead, he looked at me with arrogant amusement. "Where are you going to go, Allison? Without me? Without this firm? Don't forget, I made you!" My love didn't die in a sudden explosion; it bled out drop by drop over eighteen broken promises. I had poured my soul into his success, only to be treated like a disposable asset in my own home. To make the irony even more suffocating, a plastic stick in my bathroom soon revealed two stark red lines. I was pregnant with his child. I didn't cry, and I certainly didn't use the baby to beg for his love. Instead, I packed a single suitcase, accepted a senior role at his biggest rival firm in London, and left a resignation letter on his desk. This time, I am building an empire of my own.”