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The CEO's Runaway Pregnant Architect

Chapter 8 

Word Count: 728    |    Released on: 15/05/2026

n Knap

rtine floors of the lobby. It was a crisp, deliberate sound

er welcoming smile faltering into confusion. "A

picking up a few personal things." The words were calm, but the

pity, and in some corners, a smug satisfaction. My workstation was in a prime location, a spacious

immediately, a low

y brought a

r true? Her

ice until after midni

dn't change. It was like listeni

fore the company, a small potted succulent that had somehow survived my neglect. I took

ensive perfume. Ciera. She was dressed in a sharp, tail

ncern and surprise. It was just loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to

ble, caring friend, the peacemaker. She wa

ok at her. I just stacked a few books i

d on, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Jayson was working so hard on that project last n

e, painting a picture of them as partners burning the midnigh

into its case and slowly, deliberately, raised my h

f ice beneath it. I saw the confidence in her eyes wav

gold necklace at her throat. A piece I recognized.

et, but it cut through the offi

hings," I said, my eyes locked on the ne

The double meaning was unmistakable. I wasn't talking about the necklac

o retort, but no words came out. Any defense she could offer wou

x, stacked it on my suitcase, and stood up. I was taller than her by a goo

turned and walked toward the

anticipation. They were all wondering what I would do ne

had n

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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.”