The CEO's Runaway Pregnant Architect

Chapter 9

Word Count: 641 | Released on: 15/05/2026

n Knap

's office. I didn't knock. For five years, this room had been as much m

ne, the ordered chaos of his desk. Lingering beneath it was another scent, a floral perf

e wall-and landed on a display shelf. It was filled with trophies and plaques

university competition, the one that had launched our careers and our relationship. It was the p

it from the shelf. My fingertips

r the precise curvature of an arch, only to collapse into laughter as the sun came up, knowing we'd found the perfect solution together. T

th, and I swallowed it down.

el in my arms and

n with such force that it

ted. He was still in the suit from yesterday, the tie

his gaze dropped to the model in my arms, and flic

shed, replaced by a slow, arroga

laced with a patronizing amusement. "Th

nt girl to be placated and coaxed back

ection I might have held for him turned to cold, hard ash. I didn't even feel

ahogany desk. From my purse, I pulled out a crisp, white envelop

wo words, printed in clean, blo

nd for the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his features.

w, stripped of its earlier amusement, edged with the a

ord a carefully placed stone. "I'm not runn

ng in the air between us. The

re break

Chapter End

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The CEO's Runaway Pregnant Architect

Ming Yue Modern

“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.”