Mistaking The Billionaire For A Gigolo

I was just a bottom-tier accountant fighting to survive a brutal corporate layoff to pay my family's medical bills.

But after a reckless one-night stand to drown my sorrows, I found out I was pregnant. My malicious stepsister, who worked in HR, used the company merger to torture me with heavy manual labor, eventually pushing me to the brink of a miscarriage.

Instead of being fired, my situation took a bizarre turn. I was suddenly moved to a top-floor VIP hospital suite with all expenses paid. Back at work, the executive chef personally served me custom Michelin-star soups every single day while my coworkers watched in shock. Terrified, I thought my female manager was using company perks to bribe me into marrying her autistic son.

But when I confronted her, she was furious and completely clueless. If it wasn't her, who on earth was manipulating the entire Wall Street consortium just to secretly pamper a lowly, pregnant clerk?

I didn't know the answer, and neither did my stepsister. She secretly stole a sample of my daily soup, tested it, and discovered it was a high-end pregnancy stabilization tonic.

"A pathetic leech knocked up out of wedlock."

She sneered, saving the lab report to her phone. She prepared to publicly destroy me at Monday's all-hands board assembly, completely unaware of the terrifying billionaire CEO who was watching her every move from the sixty-eighth floor.