Married to the Cold CEO After One Night

Lene’s POV

If you smiled enough, you could almost convince yourself the world didn’t spit in your face daily.

That was what I told myself every time I walked the gleaming halls of Blackwood Regency Hotel. The air always smelled like money and imported lilies. A rich, careless laughter echoed through the gold-rimmed chandeliers. The kind that came from people who didn’t worry about rent, or survival.

I wasn’t one of them.

I was a server. A glorified tray-carrier in a pencil skirt and aching heels.

But I had dreams -God did gave me one. Late at night, in the shoebox apartment I shared with Caleb, I had sketch out event layouts on napkins, including color schemes, seating charts and budget hacks. My savings account was slow-growing but real. I was building toward something called freedom.

Until it all crumbled in a single afternoon.

“Lena Hart,” my manager called with his lips pinched like a trap.

I was in the staff hallway behind the main ballroom, balancing champagne flutes, when she pulled me aside.

“There’s been a complaint,” she said with an ice-cold voice. “One of the guests, Mr. Vernon, an investment partner from Hartford, reported his wallet missing after you served his table.”

My mouth dropped. “What? No, I never even touched the table!” I explained in stammer.

Her gaze flicked over me like I was already guilty. “Surveillance hasn’t cleared you. And with his ties to the Blackwood board…” She narrowed her eyes.

“I didn’t steal anything!” My voice cracked, trembling more from panic and fear. “Please, check the cameras again. This is a mistake!”

“We can’t afford a scandal,” she snapped. “You’re terminated, effective immediately.”

Before I could say anything further, security flanked me after being called.

I was escorted out through the door. I walked past whispering coworkers, past silent bellboys who once joked with me, past everything I had tried to build. My cheeks burned with shame. I wanted to scream, to fight but all I could do was clutch my bag and keep walking.

My world fell apart right before my face got something I didn't do.

……..

The rain started before I reached the bus stop.

Of course it did. I didn’t even have an umbrella. I was soaked with my blouse clinging to my skin and mascara streaking down my cheeks like war paint.

My hands trembled as I unlocked the door of the apartment I shared with Caleb.

“Caleb?” I called weakly. But he didn't give an answer.

But I heard the faint thump of music from the bedroom. I pushed the door open.

And then… I saw it. It was the shock of my life.

Her blonde hair fanned across my pillows. Caleb was shirtless and tangled with her. Their limbs twisted together like they belonged.

It was my best friend, Harper. The same Harper who helped me rehearse pitches. Who knew my dreams and aspirations.

“Oh,” Caleb said lazily, blinking at me. “You’re home early.” His voice was casual like he didn't do anything.

That was all he said.

There was no shame, no explanation and no apology.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. Cause I was dismayed.

I just walked backward, shutting the door behind me with my heart hollow and my chest burning like an open wound.

I don’t remember much after that, because I didn't think. I can't!

It was just the neon lights and cold pavement under my feet.

I found myself in a small bar off Lexington. It was dimly lit, barely furnished while jazz was being played to no one in particular.

“One shot of tequila,” I told the bartender. My hand was placed on the table. He gave it to, after drinking, I demanded another one, then another and another.

Each one burned less. Each one numbed more.

I sat there in my soaked clothes, watching the world blur right before my face. A woman next to me tried to strike up a conversation. A man offered to buy me a drink. I ignored them all.

Eventually, I stumbled out of the bar. I was half-blind with grief and alcohol.

I wasn’t thinking. My phone was dead. My wallet was missing. My head buzzed with betrayal, hurt and rage. And somehow maybe by fate or maybe by accident, I found myself inside another hotel.

It was a luxury tower with velvet walls and chandeliers even grander than the Regency.

‘I just needed a bathroom.’ That’s what I told myself. Just somewhere to sit, to cry and to breathe.

I opened a door before me. And I stumbled straight into someone else’s world.

It wasn’t a restroom. Where I was? It was a penthouse suite.

The bed was crisp in white sheets with dimmed lights and an untouched wine glass on a marble table.

There was a man standing near the window in a black shirt and slacks. His figure outlined by the city lights behind him.

He turned and we stared at each other.

I blinked, trying to register what was happening. “Oh God. I - I thought this was the…”

“The bathroom?” he asked dryly with one brow lifting.

His voice was low, reeking of riches and sharp enough to cut glass.

I nodded mutely. He didn’t move, he didn’t shout and he didn’t call the security.

He studied me instead. I probably looked insane - drenched, glassy-eyed and my limbs were trembling.

“Sit down,” he said after a moment.

My legs buckled before I could protest. The couch welcomed me like a cocoon.

He poured a glass of water and handed it to me.

I didn’t drink it. I really looked at him. His face was sharp and symmetrical. His eyes was like a black marble. It was cold and unreadable. His presence was magnetic and dangerous. It was the kind you felt in your bones.

He didn’t ask what happened for sour reasons I couldn't connote.

I whispered, “Everything hurts.” That was all I said. He sat across from me in silence. Letting it fill the room like fog.

Then, he leaned forward and kissed me.

I should have pulled away. I should have run. But I was tired of running. So I kissed him back.

It wasn’t gentle and It wasn’t sweet either but It was raw.

Like two broken pieces slamming together to feel something again.

His hands were steady where mine trembled. His lips demanding where mine were desperate. We moved through the darkness like shadows, all heat and pain and numbness colliding.

It didn’t matter that I didn’t know his name. It didn’t matter that I’d likely regret it. In that moment, I just needed to forget. And he didn’t stop me.

……

When I woke the next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains. The suite was quiet and the bed was empty. I couldn't get a sight of him.

It was just the scent of cologne on the pillow beside me and a memory I couldn’t erase.

I gathered my clothes in silence, my body was sore and my heart felt heavy.

I left without a sound.

…….

Three weeks later, my world tilted again. It all started with nausea. Then later on, I felt dizziness. And afterwards, i missed my period.

I had to take the pregnancy test. My jaw dropped as the pregnancy test blinked positive in bold pink letters.

‘I am pregnant.’ My heart echoed.

With the child of a man whose name I didn’t even know.

All I knew that morning staring at the test in my trembling hand was that I was going to be a mother all alone.