My Billionaire's Baby

"I'm pregnant," I stated without hesitation, gently swirling the contents of the glass I held. Ripples formed inside, but nothing spilt out. The background noise I confronted was as turbulent as the liquid I observed—murky or noisy.

Usually, I visited this club to unwind, but even relaxing felt pointless this time. It was a routine visit for me, spending time with my two incredibly talkative friends, whom I had reluctantly agreed to accompany.

"Dang! Don't joke around, Anya," one of them exclaimed.

"Shut up! If you want to joke, don't be that foolish!" The shout wasn't mine but Doni's, who transformed into Dona whenever he was with me. My male friend, nicknamed Dona, didn't take offence at the name. He even joked that perhaps in a past life, he was a Dona, minus the occasional sideburns along his jawline.

"I'm not joking," I replied wearily, focusing my gaze on them and observing their shocked and fearful expressions. They were both terrified and how about me? From the pregnancy test results and the series of examinations this afternoon, I no longer recognized the color of my face. Maybe pale like a corpse.

I, Anya Joice, want to bear a child—in a legitimate bond according to the law and religion. That's an absolute requirement. Not like this. Damn it!

"Do you know who the father is?" Dona asked, grabbing my hand immediately. Perhaps he needed something to anchor himself, unlike me, who felt like I was drifting away.

"I do know," I replied weakly. As thoughts of the person who continued to knock on the doors of my mind flooded in, shivers raced down my spine.

Around me, it wasn't quiet. The DJ's music that usually enlivened our nights had vanished from my life. I was physically present, but my mind seemed to wander off. Most importantly, I was thinking about another life growing within me.

"Anya," Naomi, my female friend, held both my hands. "You can confide in us. What's happening with you?"

"Yeah, Anya. You're usually so talkative when something happens," Doni Andrean, his full name, although Naomi and I mainly called him Dona, added sympathetically. He embraced me, trying to encompass part of me in his arms.

Could I hold back my tears? No. So, I let the tears flow before them. I shared my doubts, worries, and other negative thoughts with the two people closest to me. In Washington, DC, they were all I had. In this transient world, I was all alone. My parents had long passed away. Their bodies weren't buried in the ground; in my heart, their existence was no longer there. So, I guess I consider them dead.

"Who?" Naomi asked softly.

I was confused, wondering how I could have been so foolish. I'm not a saintly woman; I apologize. But I'm not the kind of woman who opens her legs for just any man. No, I'm still sane, except maybe two or three months ago, right? I'm a bit forgetful, but I remember vividly, even under the influence of vodka, who was on top of me.

Ah, my goodness! I'm so stupid.

"Cedric," I whispered.

"Son of a bitch!" Dona cursed. "Why did you mess around with the office boy?!"

I squeezed my eyes shut. If only I had known, I would never have done it!

"Anya..." Naomi's soft yet sharp voice reached me, causing a shudder. Resisting her felt futile. "Don't jump to conclusions. Cedric is a good guy, Anya. You know that."

"I feel so stupid, Naomi," I admitted, feeling cornered now. "You're talking like I'm the one who seduced Cedric."

I heard Naomi sigh. "That's not what I meant, Anya. You know what I'm trying to say. I'd believe if you said you were pregnant with Dewangga's child. Or even Kelvin's."

I laughed. "Yeah, right. Both Dewa and Kelvin have been pursuing me pretty aggressively."

"There you go!"

"Yeah, true." Now, Dona chimed in. "And why did you claim you were pregnant with Cedric's child? Dewangga and Kelvin are shining like gems."

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. I was familiar with the two men they were talking about. One was Kelvin Sturborn, the IT manager at my workplace. The other was Dewangga Obrey, the store manager of a café across the street where we sometimes hung out to relax after lunch.

Naomi pointed out that both of them had been vying for my attention. I'm not trying to portray myself as something special. To me, they both treated me like dessert. Sweetness alone wasn't enough to pique my interest. I wasn't blind to their intentions. I've been attempting to avoid them as much as possible. It's been challenging, but at least I've managed to maintain my dignity.

And now, my dignity has wholly vanished.

During the quiet moment shared between us, my mind was deafeningly loud, grappling with how I would face the coming days.

"Does Cedric know?" Naomi's question hit me like a brick. We hadn't crossed paths again since the first and only time we were together, except at the office.

"I'm sure he doesn't know yet, Naomi," Dona reassured her. "When did you take the pregnancy test?"

"This afternoon." My shoulders sagged. The issue I had used to wipe my tears lay on the table, soaked with sorrow. This time, we all sighed in unison.

"You need to talk to him. Cedric needs to take responsibility," Naomi emphasized the word 'responsibility' in her sentence. "But before that, you need to tell us. Why did you let yourself go with Cedric but reject Dewangga and Kelvin, who are impressive?"

"It's all vodka's fault."

If there's a definition of feeling like a fool, it's when disaster strikes, and your two friends take immense satisfaction in laughing at you, just like what I'm going through right now.

*

I examined the ultrasound result sheet I received earlier this afternoon. Then, I gently caressed my still-flat belly. I felt incredibly conflicted, considering the option of ending the life inside me. But it's not due to financial reasons. My salary and position are more than sufficient to cater to its needs. I am confident of that.

By "capability," I mean many things, especially the ability to raise and educate a child. I acknowledge my mistake now. Naomi was right; I shouldn't have been careless with my choices, not to mention the potential consequences I could face. My job, my life, my routines—all are at risk. I must start learning to embrace the presence of the little life growing inside me. I'm already counting down the days until my flat belly starts to show.

I have already dismissed any notions of love. What does love have to do with my situation with Cedric? We only encounter each other occasionally in the office. Our interactions are limited to greetings when Cedric brings me tea or water. I sigh in frustration afterwards. Why did things have to develop this way with Cedric?

God, why is my punishment like this?

The memory of how I reached this point remains vivid. Naomi correctly said that vodka and I are a volatile mix, best avoided unless we celebrate together or Dona is with me. At that moment, I did ask Dona to accompany me, but he had a prior engagement. I didn't want to inconvenience him. I am self-aware enough.

Naomi was away in Bangladesh for work during that time.

Apart from vodka, I am inclined to blame my immediate supervisor, Krystal Blaxton. A nearly forty-year-old woman derives pleasure from subjecting me to ever-changing agendas. I serve as her secretary, and she's the head honcho at my workplace. The company deals in shipping services with a sprawling network.

The workplace is deemed quite prestigious. Nearly all e-commerce and businesses of varying scales avail of our services, courtesy of Krystal's daring initiatives. She's a role model in terms of a successful, self-sufficient woman in her career, minus her tendency to torment her subordinates, mainly me. She often says, "Anya, you're intelligent. Consider that. Don't reveal everything to everyone. Be creative, Anya."

Also, "Anya, you know, your expression infuriates me. Don't wear that duck-like face. Smile, Anya. Smile."

Furthermore, I had to sift through not just a stack but two boxes of work from the previous year because she overlooked an agenda, despite suggesting a more straightforward approach. Krystal is always right, and I cannot refuse her requests.

The pinnacle of it all was when our company underwent external audits periodically. Krystal's perfectionism was unparalleled. I was the one feeling the brunt of it first. The stress of dealing with Krystal was channeled into vodka consumption.

It's understandable. I hold Krystal accountable.

I chuckled, more in a pitiful way. I berated myself for this impulsive decision that had caused me so much distress.

My phone rang, and glancing at the clock on my apartment's wall, I realized it was already 2 am. I furrowed my brows. Who could be calling at this hour?

Krystal: Don't be late tomorrow. Anya has a meeting at Sun City Tower.

Truly a workaholic of godlike proportions!