Page 111 of Wrong Room, Right Billionaire

“It wasn’t fake,” I say, pulling out my phone and going to her account. “Look at this,”

Scarlett rolls her eyes. “I took those photos, Morgan. It’s what I do.”

“No,” I say, “Not those. The ones we didn’t post. The ones we are tagged in. They’re organic and candid and perfectly show just how real it all was. Your joy? Real. Your smile? Real. The kisses? Very fucking real. People loving every minute of it is real. There are literally hundreds of photos of us and they’re all–wait. What’s this one?”

“What one?” she asks impatiently.

I zoom in on a photo of her that seems to really be making waves. It’s one I haven’t seen before, and I wasn’t with her when it was taken. She’s standing on the beach, surrounded by people, including a couple of little kids. She’s talking to them, a smile on her face and her hand on her stomach. But the photo itself isn’t what has me wondering what the hell is going on. It’s the caption and the comments.

My eyes flash up to hers in disbelief and confusion. “Are you pregnant?” I ask, and Scarlett’s face goes pale.

Chapter 41

Scarlett

“Are you pregnant?” he asks.

And I should have looked at the photo. I should have paid more attention to all the media recently. It’s not like my phone hasn’t been blowing up. But as I stare at the comments and accusations, I realize that it’s me who is going to be backtracking now.

Morgan Bale’s Fiancée Pregnant?

MooreToExplore has MooreToExplain

Spontaneous Proposal Could Lead to Shotgun Wedding After Pregnancy Rumors Leak

“Oh God,” I let out. It’s not an answer to his question, but I guess it is.

“So it’s true.” He nods, biting his lip. “Is it mine?”

I literally gasp. “What do you mean, is it yours? Of course, they’re yours. Who else would they belong to?”

“I don’t know. I figured I’d ask, considering that you’ve been keeping a pregnancy a secret. How long have you been hiding it, by the way? When did you find out?” he asks.

“The night before we went to San Diego,” I say.

“I see. Is it a custom for you to take pregnancy tests before going on trips?”

His words cut to the quick, and my eyes fill with tears, though they’re more angry tears than anything.

“I took a test because after things escalated in my hotel room at the Sapphire, I was late and wanted to make sure I wasn’t pregnant. And then when I found out I was, it was too late,” I say.

“Too late for what? To be honest with the father of the baby?” he asks.

“Don’t talk to me about honesty!” I snap, waving the notebook in his face.

“It’s a stupid book filled with silly to-do items!” he snaps back. “So when exactly did you plan on telling me, anyways? When you worked for me long enough to gain more traction in your flippant job? When you had enough money and fame to support yourself?”

“When we were trying to save your image, and you weren’t in danger of losing your company to your snakey brother!” I fight back with a quivering chin. But he doesn’t seem to care. He doesn’t seem to care about anything.

“Right.” He nods cynically. “Because keeping my baby from me was in my best interest.”

“Babies,” I say quietly, and he narrows his eyes.

“What?”

“Babies,” I repeat. “Twins.”

“Twins?” he gapes. “And how long have you known that?”