Page 74 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends

They dim the lights before the speech. I’m standing just offstage, behind a pair of velvet curtains the color of ripe plums, one hand wrapped around a cue card I don’t need, the other pressed against my lower back like it’ll steady me.

The fire breather finishes his set with a roar of heat that sends gasps echoing through the crowd. Then silence. A single spotlight swings to the center of the stage—circular, gold-trimmed, gleaming.

Someone announces my name. Applause.

I walk out, heart pounding so hard I swear they’ll hear it louder than the microphone. The lights blind me for a second. I can’t see the crowd. Only shapes. Only shadows. Jack and Harrison near the front. Gavin, standing near the edge of the room with his hands in his pockets like he’s not the reason three other CEOs and several celebrities are here tonight.

“Thank you,” I begin. “When we started planning this gala, the goal was simple. To raise funds to support the new rescue expansion. Give people a reason to say yes to something good. What I didn’t expect was just how enthusiastically everyone would show up.”

Soft laughter. The good kind.

I keep going. Words flow. Rehearsed. Polished. I hit every note. Thank the right sponsors. Reference the circus theme with a quick joke aboutbalancing acts and juggling flaming swords.Everyone laughs.

I don’t look at any of them too long. Not at my guys. Not the clients. Not the board. If I look too closely, something in me will break.

Instead, I close with, “Tonight, we raised enough to build the rescue wing—and fund its first two years of operation. That’s because of all of you. So, from the bottom of my heart…thank you.”

More applause. Louder this time. I smile. Bow my head slightly. Step off the stage like my legs aren’t made of jelly.

Backstage, someone hands me a flute of champagne. I wave it off and reach for the ginger ale I stashed earlier. My hand trembles so badly I almost spill it.

I need out. Now.

There’s a lounge on the second floor—softly lit, velvet couches, curtains drawn. Technically it’s a VIP space, but right now it’s empty. Everyone’s downstairs basking in the success I orchestrated.

I slip inside and shut the door behind me. Quiet. Finally. Except I’m not alone.

Jack looks up from the couch, where he’s nursing a scotch and loosening his tie. Harrison leans against the wall, one hand in his pocket, jacket draped over the back of a nearby chair. Gavin’s at the window, staring out over the city with that unreadable expression he wears when he’s two seconds from throwing a press release or starting a war.

They all turn when I enter. And just like that, I lose it.

Not the screaming, crying kind of losing it. Not the collapse. Just…the unraveling. My mask slips. My smile dies. The adrenaline drains out of me and leaves nothing but truth.

“You were incredible,” Jack says, voice low.

“You killed your speech,” Harrison adds.

Gavin turns, and when his eyes meet mine, I feel like he sees everything. All of it.

I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.

Then I try again.

“I’m pregnant.”

The words drop like lead. No preamble. No soft landing. Just a truth I can’t carry alone anymore. And then I wait—for the silence to crack open and swallow me whole.

18

JACK

Parker saysit like she’s announcing rain on the forecast. Like it’s not the single most electric thing I’ve ever heard.

I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.

Gavin is stone-still. Harrison shifts beside me, like he’s physically grounding himself. But me? I’m floating. For all of two seconds, I feel like I’ve left the floor. Heart hammering, brain stuttering, muscles frozen.

Because it might be mine. No—because I want it to be. “Okay,” I say finally, because someone has to speak. “Okay. We can…we’ll figure it out.”