CEO‘s Regret: Please Come Back to Me

Aliya's POV

I stepped off the plane, my legs stiff from the six-hour flight. The terminal buzzed with activity around me as I checked my phone. A new text from Evan lit up my screen.

"Meeting running late. Wait for me at the hotel."

I frowned, feeling a twinge of disappointment. We'd specifically planned this "pre-meeting rendezvous" before our press conference. When I'd mentioned it to him this morning, he'd given me that smile that still made my stomach flutter after nine years.

"That makes it even more exciting," he'd said, his voice dropping to that intimate tone he saved just for me. "And increases our chances, doesn't it?"

I was about to reply when a shriek cut through the airport noise.

"Oh my God! It's Aliya Clayton!"

A group of young women rushed toward me, phones already out. I plastered on my public smile as Jenny, my assistant, stepped between us.

"Everyone, please calm down," Jenny announced, her voice firm but kind. "Ms. Clayton just got off a long flight and needs some space."

"Aliya, I loved you in 'Sovereign Strategy'!" a girl with bright purple hair called out. "When are you coming back to acting?"

"Your Golden Star Award speech made me cry!" another fan shouted, thrusting a glossy magazine with my face on the cover for me to sign.

"We've been waiting for your comeback!" another fan shouted, thrusting a DVD case of my show "Sovereign Strategy" at me.

I signed a few autographs, my heart warming at their continued support despite my two-year absence. "Soon," I promised, though I wasn't entirely sure if I was trying to convince them or myself.

"Just one selfie, please!" A tearful fan begged, and I couldn't refuse her. One selfie turned into five, then ten, until Jenny finally extracted me with a firm, "Ms. Clayton has a press conference to prepare for."

In the car, I leaned back against the cool leather seat and closed my eyes. Golden Star Award-winning actress. That's who I used to be. Now I was just Aliya Clayton-Bradley, wife of business mogul Evan Bradley. I'd stepped away from the spotlight after an injury during an action scene, but the truth? I'd chosen marriage over my career.

Evan and I had known each other since high school. Nine years of history between us. He'd always been there, watching from the sidelines as my career took off. When he finally asked me to marry him, with the entire dock lit up with thousands of tiny lights, I thought I'd found my happily ever after. The heir to the Bradley fortune wanted me—the girl from a small Midwest town who'd made it big in Golden Coast.

Two years of marriage. Two years of trying to get pregnant. Two years of Evan's devotion, his hands on my body almost every night, sometimes multiple times during my ovulation period.

"Evan is the one who truly loves me." I always believed so.

Jenny handed me a bottle of warm water and a small pill case. "Your vitamins, Aliya. The fertility ones Dr. Henderson prescribed."

I swallowed them dutifully, remembering the doctor's words from our last appointment: "Having a healthy body increases your chances."

As we drove toward Crown Hotel, I scrolled through social media. My fans were still speculating about my absence.

"Do you think she got secretly married?"

"Maybe she's pregnant already!"

"I heard she's planning a comeback this year!"

I felt a pang of guilt. They'd been so loyal, and I'd disappeared without much explanation. But after today's press conference, everything would be out in the open. Evan and I would officially announce our marriage to the public.

"We're taking the side entrance," Jenny informed me as we approached the hotel. "The press conference doesn't start for another two hours, but reporters are already camped out at the main entrance."

I nodded, my thoughts drifting to Evan. I was looking forward to our private time before the press conference—my own little "homework" for our baby-making project.

The hotel staff guided us through the service corridor. I texted Evan to let him know I'd arrived, but got no response.

While waiting, I scrolled through entertainment news and froze at a headline: "Rising Actress Spotted with Mystery Man." The blurry photo showed a young woman with a tall, suited figure. For a second, the man's silhouette looked familiar—the broad shoulders, the confident stance.

"That couldn't be Evan," I muttered, shaking my head. "We've known each other for nine years. He wouldn't betray me. Evan is the one who truly loves me."

After thirty minutes with no word from Evan, I grew restless. Jenny called Jason, Evan's assistant.

"Mr. Bradley is already at the hotel," Jason told her. "But he's handling an urgent matter."

"Jenny, you go ahead and prepare for the press conference," I decided. "I'll find Evan myself."

She handed me a key card. "Okay. It's room 2308."

I took the elevator alone, silently praying that this time, our efforts would result in the baby we both wanted so desperately.

I reached room 2308 and paused to check my appearance in the hallway mirror. After the long flight, I wanted to look my best for Evan.

As I was about to knock, my phone vibrated in my purse. I glanced at the screen—Dr. Henderson's office. Probably calling with my latest hormone test results.

I hesitated, finger hovering over the answer button, when something caught my attention—sounds coming from behind the door. Soft at first, then unmistakable: heavy breathing, a woman's quiet moan.

I smiled, assuming Evan was watching adult content to get in the mood for our rendezvous.

"Such a naughty boy," I whispered, "so impatient."

I swiped the key card, eager to join my husband.

The door swung open, and I froze.

Evan was completely naked, his muscular back glistening with sweat, his body moving in a familiar rhythm—one I knew too well.

Beneath him was a woman with long legs wrapped around his waist, her pale breasts bouncing with each thrust.

Her red lips were parted in pleasure as she cried out, "Right there... harder... yes!"

The sheets were soaked, and the sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the room. Evan's hands gripped her slim waist as he drove into her repeatedly.

My purse slipped from my fingers, crashing to the floor. Ovulation test strips and pregnancy tests scattered across the carpet like confetti for a celebration that would never happen.

The noise made them both turn. Evan's eyes widened in shock and panic.

The woman scrambled to cover herself with the sheet, but Evan remained frozen, still connected to her.

I stood there, unable to move, unable to speak. My mind raced with questions that burned through my shock.

Who was this woman? Why would Evan betray me after nine years together? After all our efforts to start a family?

And then the most horrifying thought of all hit me—Was my husband actually planning to finish with this woman and then come make a baby with me? Or this was just a trap.