Jackson the CEO

For weeks, I had been feeling dizzy during morning meetings. When I finally took a test in the corporate restroom, two dark pink lines appeared instantly. I was pregnant with his son. ​Frightened but hopeful, I hid the result in my handbag. He had invited me to stay at his private, heavily guarded estate for the evening, and I planned to tell him the news over dinner. All night, he treated me like porcelain—attentive, passionate, and warm. I almost let myself believe we could build a real family together. ​By midnight, while he was stepped away in his private study, a sudden wave of nausea hit me. Deciding I couldn't stay the night, I grabbed my coat, slipped out the side entrance, and headed toward the underground garage to take my car home.The underground parking lot was dimly lit, echoing with the hum of heavy exhaust fans. As I reached my vehicle, the far metal door swung open, and three blacked-out SUVs pulled into the concrete bay, blocking the exits. I shrank back into the shadows near a pillar, my heart hammering against my ribs. Stepping out from the lead vehicle was my CEO—but he wasn't wearing his polished executive persona. His black silk shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing dark tattoos creeping up his chest. His posture was aggressive, rough, and terrifyingly cold. Behind him, four heavily armed men stood at attention, awaiting his word. A man was thrown to the concrete before him, bruised and pleading for mercy over a failed shipment. I watched in sheer horror as the man I thought I knew leaned down, his eyes gleaming with a dark, sadistic pleasure. In my syndicate, failure is paid in consequences, he rasped, his face entirely unbothered as his men dragged the begging target away. I gasped, my hand instinctively dropping to cover my stomach. The soft sound cut through the quiet garage.