Page 33 of Single Dad’s Fake Bride (Billionaire Baby Daddies #7)

SADIE

I stared at my phone, the principal's words echoing in my head. We won't be needing you today . The line had gone dead before I could ask why, leaving me with questions and a hollow feeling in my stomach.

Three weeks. I'd been counting on three more weeks with Eloise's class, three more weeks of income, three more weeks of belonging somewhere.

The regular teacher wasn't supposed to return from maternity leave until the end of the month.

I'd built my expectations around that timeline, and now it crumbled without explanation.

I poured hot water over my tea bag, watching the liquid darken.

The disappointment felt like just another soul suck.

Teaching had never been my first choice—writing had been—but those fourth-graders had wormed their way into my heart.

Eloise especially. Now I wouldn't see her excited face when she mastered a difficult concept, wouldn't help her with the science project she'd been planning.

The loss felt enormous, disproportionate to what should have been a temporary position.

Mom sat at the kitchen table, alert despite the early hour. Eloise bounced in her chair, spooning cereal while reading a chapter book propped against her juice glass. Normal morning chaos, but I felt disconnected from it, adrift.

I needed air. I needed to stop wallowing in disappointment before it consumed my entire day.

"Would you two be interested in walking down to the beach overlook?" I asked. "We could watch the sunrise before school starts."

Eloise's head popped up immediately. "Yes! Can I bring my book?"

Mom surprised me by nodding. "Fresh air might be good. I haven't seen the ocean in years."

"Yes," I told Eloise, smiling at Mom. I was happy she was feeling better. "Go get your shoes and jacket. It's breezy down there."

Eloise scurried off and Mom helped me clear the table.

The walk down the sandy path helped clear my head.

Eloise chattered ahead of us, her backpack bouncing as she skipped over roots and stones.

She'd packed her book, a granola bar, and water, treating our impromptu outing as an adventure.

Her enthusiasm was infectious, pulling me out of my spiral of self-pity.

I spread a blanket on the weathered wooden platform overlooking the dunes. Below us, the Atlantic rolled endlessly toward the horizon, catching the first golden rays of morning light. The breeze carried salt and the promise of changing weather.

"Tell me about your favorite subject at school," Mom said to Eloise as we settled onto the blanket.

Mom rarely initiated conversations with anyone, especially children. But Eloise launched into an enthusiastic description of her science class, explaining their current unit on ocean currents with impressive detail for a nine-year-old.

Watching them together stirred something complex in my chest. Mom listened with genuine attention, asking follow-up questions, nodding at appropriate moments. When Eloise paused to take a bite of her granola bar, Mom smiled.

"You have excellent manners, sweetheart. And you're clearly very bright."

The compliment made Eloise beam. She scooted closer to Mom and began showing her illustrations in her book, pointing out different whale species and explaining their migration patterns with scientific accuracy that would have impressed me as her teacher, but she would be sad when she got to school to find it wasn't me in that classroom.

I leaned back on my hands, letting the morning breeze wash over me. This moment felt precious and fragile—Mom engaged and present, Eloise happy and animated, the three of us together watching the sun climb higher over the water. For once, everything seemed peaceful.

But I'd learned not to trust moments when life appeared to be working out. They usually preceded something falling apart.

The thought of sleeping with Harrison surfaced, unbidden and overwhelming.

His hands on my skin, the way he'd whispered my name, the careful tenderness afterward.

It had been more than physical—at least for me.

But physical didn't make it real. Physical didn't guarantee he wouldn't wake up one morning and decide the complications outweighed the benefits.

I was a substitute teacher from a broken family, married to a man who owned an elite academy. The gulf between our worlds hadn't disappeared because we'd shared a bed. If anything, it felt wider now, and I had no idea where it left us.

What did Harrison think about all of this? Was he regretting it? Or was I just a plaything he'd throw away as soon as my usefulness expired? The uncertainty gnawed at me, made worse by the job situation. Without my position at the school, I had even less standing in his world.

"Time to head back," I said when my watch showed seven thirty. "Harrison will want to get you to school soon."

We gathered our things and made our way up the path, Eloise walking between Mom and me, still describing various marine animals she'd read about. The normalcy of it made my chest ache. This was what family looked like—three generations together, sharing discoveries and quiet moments.

But it wasn't real. Not completely. This was still an arrangement, no matter how intimate Harrison and I had become.

When we reached the house, Harrison was in the kitchen making coffee, dressed in a charcoal gray suit that made his eyes look almost silver. Professional. Distant. The warmth we shared when we were alone in the bedroom might as well have happened to different people.

"Good morning," he said, glancing at my jeans and sweater. "Aren't you running late?"

"Actually, I don't have to go in today. The principal called—said they didn't need me."

Harrison's brow furrowed. "That doesn't make sense. Mrs. Kaup isn't returning until the end of the month."

"Maybe plans changed." But even as I said it, doubt crept in. The principal's tone had been oddly formal, almost cold.

Harrison was already reaching for his phone, stepping into the hallway for privacy. I helped Eloise gather her school things, trying not to eavesdrop on his increasingly tense conversation. The worry in his voice made my stomach clench.

When he returned, his face was carefully controlled, but anger simmered beneath the surface.

"Sadie, I need to speak with you privately."

My stomach dropped. Eloise looked between us, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere.

"Go brush your teeth, sweetheart," I told her. "Your dad will take you to school in a few minutes."

Harrison led me to his study and closed the door. When he turned to face me, his jaw was tight.

"You weren't asked not to come in today. You were terminated."

"Terminated? Why?"

"The school has a strict policy about fraternization between staff and administration. Someone reported that we were involved."

Heat flooded my cheeks. The humiliation was complete and immediate. "But we're married."

"The marriage happened after you were hired. The policy states that any romantic or physical relationship between staff and the headmaster is grounds for immediate dismissal, regardless of subsequent legal arrangements."

I sank into the chair across from his desk. My job, my independence, my connection to Eloise's world—gone. It meant I wouldn't sub there again, and there was a large chance they'd give me a bad reference for future jobs too.

"I'm going to fight this," Harrison said. "The policy is archaic and doesn't account for?—"

"No." I stood, gathering what remained of my dignity. "Don't make this worse by turning it into a spectacle."

After Harrison left with Eloise, I returned to the kitchen where Mom was finishing her tea. The coffee Harrison had been making still sat in the pot, its aroma suddenly overwhelming. My heart was already so torn up, and the scent made it all worse. My stomach lurched violently.

I rushed to the sink, retching until nothing came up but bile. The nausea had been building for days, but I'd blamed it on stress, on the uncertainty of my situation. Now it felt different—persistent, triggered by specific scents.

"Sadie?" Mom's voice carried concern. "Are you all right?"

I gripped the edge of the sink, waiting for the waves of sickness to pass. "I'm fine. Just upset about the job situation."

But Mom's sharp eyes missed nothing. She'd been through this herself twenty-eight years ago. As I mopped up my face, she eyed me cautiously. "When was your last cycle?" she asked, and her question only confirmed my own fears.

I tried to remember, counting backward, but I didn't remember. I was supposed to start a week ago but I hadn't. But Harrison and I hadn't been together that long, really, three weeks? Maybe four? Everything blurred together in that moment and I couldn't think straight.

"I don't know," I lied.

"Sadie."

Her tone left no room for argument. I turned to face her, seeing my own fear reflected in her expression.

"Five days late," I admitted. "Maybe six."

She nodded slowly. "The pharmacy in town is discreet."

I could feel her watching me, waiting to see what I'd do with the information. Part of me wanted to deny the possibility, to blame the missed cycle on stress and the upheaval of the past month. But my body knew better than my mind.

I'd felt different for days now—not sick, exactly, but aware of changes I couldn't name. The way certain foods suddenly repulsed me. How tired I'd been despite sleeping well. The tenderness that made putting on a bra uncomfortable.

An hour later, I'd been to the pharmacy and back.

The small box felt like a lead weight in my hands as I locked myself in the powder room.

My reflection in the mirror looked pale, frightened.

I followed the instructions with trembling fingers, then set the test on the counter and forced myself to look away.

The waiting was agony. Three minutes felt endless. When I finally turned back, two pink lines stared up at me—pregnant.

I gripped the edge of the sink, my knees suddenly weak. The collision of emotions was overwhelming, joy and terror battling for dominance in my chest. I'd always dreamed of being a mother, had imagined holding my own child countless times. But not this way.

This changed everything. Our careful arrangement, our five-year timeline—all of it crumbled in the face of two pink lines.

This wasn't about protecting Eloise's education anymore or giving me financial stability.

This was about creating life, about becoming a family in ways neither of us had planned.

What would Harrison think? Would he see this as a trap, a way to force his hand beyond our contract? The doubt gnawed at me, made worse by the memory of this morning's conversation. I'd already lost my job for getting too close to him. Now I was carrying his child.

I thought about the beach this morning, watching Mom interact with Eloise, seeing the possibility of three generations together. It had felt precious then, fragile but real. Now it might become permanent. I'd never anticipated this.

The irony wasn't lost on me. I'd married Harrison to solve his inheritance problem, and now I was pregnant with the heir that would make all of it irrelevant.

A baby would tie us together long after our five-year agreement ended.

A baby that would make me question whether anything between us had ever been fake at all.

I picked up the test, studying those two lines as if they might disappear if I looked hard enough. They didn't. This was real. This was happening.

I was pregnant with Harrison Vale's baby, and I had no idea how to tell the man I'd married for convenience but was falling in love with despite every rational thought in my head.