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Chapter 1: The Sound of a Shattering World
The world felt like a promise, finally kept.
A gentle flutter, deep within my belly, sent a thrill through me. I smiled, my free hand instinctively coming to rest over the slight, firm curve of my five-month pregnancy. My baby. Our baby. On my other hand, the heavy emerald-cut diamond Tadesse Menelik had placed there two months ago caught the slanting afternoon sun filtering through the taxi window, scattering fractured light across my wrist.
For three years, our relationship had lived in the shadows. A secret whispered in the quiet intimacy of his penthouse, behind closed doors, beneath the weight of legacy and ambition. He was Tadesse Menelik, Africa’s tech golden boy—the visionary who had rebuilt his family’s name from scandal and ashes. I was Mireya Tesfaye, his assistant, his shadow, his secret.
In public, he was the CEO with a sharp mind and sharper smile. In private, he was the man I had loved—quietly, fiercely, foolishly—for ten years.
Everything changed the moment I told him I was pregnant.
The guarded coldness in his eyes—the wall I’d never quite breached—melted. For the first time, he looked at me with something warm, something real. He proposed. Just like that. No speeches. No ring on a rooftop. Just him, kneeling in the middle of our small kitchen at 2 a.m., his hands trembling as he kissed my belly.
My patience had paid off, I told myself. My love had finally reached him. He wanted our baby. He wanted me.
Or so I had believed.
The taxi pulled up outside the towering glass monolith that was Menelik Global. I paid the driver, clutching the leather portfolio Tadesse had forgotten that morning. I had insisted on bringing it myself—a silly excuse, maybe, but part of me had wanted to see him. To surprise him.
A wave of dizziness passed through me as I stepped out of the car, and I paused, one hand steadying my belly.
“Easy, little one,” I whispered. “We’re almost there.”
The lobby was sleek, polished, and quiet—every surface exuding wealth and precision. The front desk assistant greeted me with a professional nod.
“Miss Tesfaye.”
I smiled. No one here knew what that ring on my finger meant. No one knew the heir growing inside me belonged to the man who ran this empire.
I stepped into Tadesse’s private elevator and rode it in silence.
On the top floor, Lulit—his executive secretary—looked up from her screen, visibly startled.
“Mireya—I didn’t know you were… expected.”
“He isn’t,” I said lightly, lifting the portfolio. “Just dropping these off. I’ll be quick.”
She hesitated. “He’s on a private call.”
Her tone gave me pause—too clipped, too careful. But I dismissed it. I was hormonal. Overthinking. Pregnant.
“It’ll just take a second,” I said, already walking toward the double doors.
As I reached for the handle, I heard it.
Voices—soft, intimate. One was Tadesse’s. The other… was a woman’s.
The door wasn’t latched. Just barely ajar. I froze.
Then I heard it—her voice.
I recognized the laugh immediately.
Jin Yuxi.
The ex. The glamorous philanthropist who had vanished from his life years ago—the one everyone whispered he had never gotten over.
My hand moved. Not to knock. To push.
I opened the door an inch. Just enough to see.
And the world shattered.
She was there. Perched on his lap like she belonged to him—like I never had. Her arms draped around his neck, her lips brushing against his ear. Tadesse’s hands were on her waist. His head was tilted back in laughter.
I didn’t breathe. I didn’t move.
Then his voice—softer than I’d ever heard it—cut through the room.
“Just a few more months. She gives birth, and then she’s gone. I promise, Yuxi.”
My chest went hollow.
Jin smiled—slow, satisfied. “And then you’ll marry me?”
“Of course,” he murmured. “You’re the only one I want. You’ll raise the child. You’ll be the mother—without ruining your body. It’s perfect.”
The word hit me like a slap.
Perfect.
A child. A mother.
But not me.
Just a vessel.
Not a partner. Not a woman he loved.
An incubator.
The leather folder fell from my hands, landing on the carpet without a sound.
Neither of them noticed.
Ten years of quiet love. Ten years of waiting. Three years of secrecy. One ring. One baby.
None of it mattered.
Not to him.
Not really.
I backed away from the door like it might burn me. My arms instinctively folded over my stomach. My baby. My child.
Not his. Not hers. Mine.
I didn’t cry.
I didn’t scream.
I just… existed.
Frozen in a moment I knew would divide my life forever.
Before.
And after.
I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone. My hands trembled as I scrolled through the list of names, past “Tadesse,” past “OBGYN.”
I stopped at the name I hadn’t touched in years.
A name I’d saved under a single word. A word that once felt like fear. Now it tasted like salvation.
Tekle.
I pressed Call.
He answered on the second ring.
“Mireya?” The voice was older. Gruffer. But the steel in it hadn’t dulled.
“I’m ready,” I said. My voice was steady. Cold. “I’m coming home.”
Silence.
Then a low exhale. “Where are you?”
“Menelik Tower.”
“Ten minutes. Don’t talk to anyone.”
The line went dead.
I looked down at the ring on my finger. It glittered still.
But it meant nothing.
The promise had shattered.
And in its place stood something stronger.
Not love.
Not sorrow.
Resolve.
I would not be used. I would not be discarded.
Let them believe I was weak. Let them think I would break.
They forgot who I was.
And they would regret it.
