My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 4

I woke up to the sour taste of bile creeping up my throat, and my legs threw me out of bed before my brain could even catch up. The morning light seared into my eyes like punishment, and I stumbled across the cold floor, my feet slapping against the wood, straight into the bathroom. My knees hit the tile, and my head dipped into the toilet as I heaved, every muscle in my stomach wrenching like it was trying to pull itself inside out.

It was the third morning in a row. No, the fifth. Hell, I’d stopped counting.

I could hear my mother’s footsteps behind me, the sharp, impatient kind that clicked like a metronome of judgment. I knew she would follow me. My mom never misses a chance to remind me that I’m a fuck-up. She stood in the doorway like a sentry, arms folded, her expression already set to that self-righteous scowl she reserved just for me.

“It’s been two weeks since you came back from Las Vegas,” she muttered, her voice hard, like she’d been rehearsing that line for maximum guilt.

I didn’t respond; my face was still half inside the toilet, and I wasn’t in the mood to explain how morning sickness works to the woman who had raised me with more slaps than hugs.

“David!” she yelled suddenly, like her voice alone wasn’t enough of a siren.

From somewhere in the house, I heard the crash of the remote hitting the floor, followed by heavy footsteps. Dad appeared a few seconds later, still wearing his worn-out robe, his hair a mess, and his face confused like someone had just told him his truck was pregnant.

“What is it, woman?” he grunted.

“Your daughter is pregnant,” my mother said with the kind of dramatic flair that should’ve come with a stage spotlight. “I’ve been watching her for some time now, and today is the day I’ve confirmed it. Katia is pregnant.”

I wished the toilet would just suck me down. Swirl me into the pipes, and flush me away from all of this.

“Martha, what do you mean? Our daughter is only twenty! How can she be pregnant?”

Gee, Dad. Should I draw you a diagram? I thought it, but I didn’t have the strength to say it. My hands were shaking, my forehead pressed to the cool toilet seat, and my stomach felt like it had been scraped with sandpaper.

Mom was already shoving the bathroom door open wider. “Katia, get out here!” she snapped.

I wiped my mouth with shaking fingers and pulled myself up, grabbing the edge of the sink. My reflection looked like a ghost with a hangover. I had pale skin, sunken eyes, and lips that were cracked and raw.

I stumbled out of the bathroom just in time to turn around and vomit again.

My dad’s face turned to panic. “Katia, why? Baby, tell me you ate something bad. Maybe it’s food poisoning, an allergy, or something like that, right?”

Hope bloomed in his voice like he actually believed it. Poor man, my dad is the only person who has shown me love, not the woman who pushed me out to this world with her pussy and acted like it didn’t matter. Mom only cared about my younger sister. To her, everything I have should be given to my sister Delia.

“Stop it, David,” Mom snapped. “Katia is pregnant.”

She reached into her bathrobe pocket and pulled out a small white box like it was a weapon. “I actually bought this yesterday. Just in case.”

She shoved it into my hand. The box was light but felt like it weighed fifty pounds.

“Go inside and pee. I’ll do it myself.”

“Of course you will,” I muttered under my breath. She didn’t care what I thought. Never did. This was never about me, not really. It was about what I’d done to her life, her reputation, and her delusions of having a perfect daughter.

I walked back into the bathroom with the test in my hand, my fingers clutching it like it might explode. The plastic felt foreign and wrong. My heart thumped behind my ribs like it was trying to escape.

I peed on the stick.

My mother barged in before I could even stand up properly and snatched the test out of my hands like a jailer collecting contraband. She marched out of the bathroom, her mouth twisted into that grim line that meant she was going to pretend she was the victim in all of this.

She stood there in the hallway, tapping one foot on the tile like she was counting the seconds until the results confirmed how much she hated me.

Two minutes later, she screamed.

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