The CEO Who Begged to Be My Baby's Daddy

When my manager used my morning sickness as an excuse to block my promotion, I marched straight into the CEO’s office and slammed my OB-GYN report on his desk.

"Do you have any idea how expensive it is to raise a child? Since I'm not getting a raise, you can fork over the child support!"

Simon Rainer laughed out of sheer disbelief. "Paula, we broke up three years ago. I only moved back to the States three months ago. Who are you carrying, an alien?"

"You expect me to be a sucker and raise another guy's kid? I'd sooner bark like a dog!"

Later, after I had blocked his number on everything, Simon suddenly dropped into the public company-wide Slack channel. 

He tagged me: @Paula Corbin. You there? I heard raising a kid is pretty expensive.

Good thing I'm loaded! Woof, woof, woof...

I had worked overtime for two grueling months.

But when my project was finally finished, the credit was handed directly to someone else.

I marched into the office of our department manager, Damon Grafton, demanding an explanation.

He merely gave me a cold sneer. 

He leaned back in his chair, lowering his voice. "You're pregnant, aren't you? I saw the prenatal vitamins on your desk. Plus, I've noticed you rushing to the restroom to throw up a lot lately."

"Mr. Grafton, with how closely you're watching me, are you hoping to be reborn as my child?" 

Honestly, if my baby came out looking like his weasel-like face, I’d have nightmares for the rest of my life.

His face instantly flushed dark red. Dropping the pretense, he aggressively hissed back.

"Don't think I don't know exactly what you're trying to pull! You just want to snag this promotion and a raise, then immediately check out on paid maternity leave to milk the company for cash! For the sake of the company's bottom line, I am absolutely not signing off on this!"

"This company doesn't belong to you!" I yelled back. "Why are you acting like the money is coming out of your own pocket?"

I earned that project with my own sweat and tears.

The promotion and the raise belonged to me.

Why the hell should it be handed over to someone else over a fake excuse?

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Storming out of Damon’s office, I hit the elevator button and headed straight for the top floor to see the CEO.

"Hi, I need to see Mr. Rainer," I told the executive assistant.

"Mr. Rainer is currently in a transnational video conference. Why don't you..." 

The assistant started to refuse, but when she met my furious, unblinking glare, her words caught in her throat.

She shifted uncomfortably and pointed to his door.

"Uh, why don't you just go inside and wait?"

Wait inside the office while the CEO is in a meeting? 

Wow, Paula, your life is really turning into a soap opera today, I thought bitterly.

Not caring about the consequences, I pushed the doors open and slammed the file right onto Simon Rainer's desk.

Behind the massive desk, the man's eyes slowly shifted off his laptop screen and landed on my face.

Voices speaking rapid foreign languages occasionally drifted from his laptop speakers. 

Simon abruptly spoke into the microphone, ending the meeting in fluent French.

He shut his laptop without another word, stood up, and strolled over to his espresso machine.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice a cool, distant drawl.

I let out a cold laugh and pointed at the file I'd slammed onto his desk. 

"Do you have any idea how expensive it is to raise a child? Since I'm not getting that raise, you can pay the child support!"

The man's hands, busy pouring espresso beans, abruptly froze.

Beans scattered noisily all over the floor. 

Ignoring the sudden mess, he strode over quickly and flipped open the file. 

When his eyes landed on the bold letters of the OB-GYN ultrasound report, the eternal block of ice on his face finally cracked.

"You're pregnant?"

His gaze dropped to my flat stomach.

He frowned hard, noticing the tight belt cinched around my waist.

Then, his eyes traveled down to my feet, and he practically gasped.

"You're pregnant, and you're wearing an outfit this tight? In those high heels?"

"What does that have to do with you?" I snapped back.

I wasn't here to discuss parenting tips. I was here to make Simon pay up.

"Look, you own this company, and the baby is yours. Mandate my promotion or pay child support—you choose one!"

Simon laughed out of sheer anger. "We broke up three years ago, Paula. I only got back to the States three months ago. Who are you carrying, an alien that takes three years to hatch?"

He threw the file back down. "You expect me to be a sucker and raise another guy's kid? I'd sooner bark like a dog!"