Pregnant By My Sisters Ex

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I realized I could hear peoples darkest thoughts the moment I woke up from a dead faint. Id been working three jobs back-to-back, surviving on caffeine and the desperate need to save my family.

I thought my parents and my sister were dying. I thought the crushing weight of their medical bills was my cross to bear.

Then I heard my mother, who had been coughing up blood just an hour ago, complaining in her head about how "low-quality" the theatrical blood tasted. She was already mentally spending my next paycheck on a vintage Chanel bag.

I heard my father, the man with the "shattered leg," grumbling that his muscles were cramping from pretending to be a cripple. He was dreaming of the high-end massage parlor hed visit once I "cleared the family debt."

Even my "frail" younger sister was mentally drafting a breakup text to her "loser" boyfriend, eager to toss him aside so she could hunt for a richer mark.

I watched them perform. I listened to their rehearsed whimpers. I didn't say a word. I simply reached out and took back the envelope of "surgery money" Id laid on the table.

Later, I went to see my sisters boyfriend to deliver her message. Thats when I heard his voice.

He knew she was dumping him. But his inner monologue wasn't full of heartbreakit was full of cold, calculating amusement. He was the sole heir to a tech empire, playing a game of "poverty tourism" to test her love. He was waiting for the moment wed all regret underestimating him.

A sharp, jagged idea took root in my mind.

I didn't deliver the breakup speech. Instead, I feigned a dizzy spell, let my knees buckle, and collapsed straight into his arms.

The world spun with practiced precision. I calculated the angle perfectly, letting my body go limp as I fell toward Gideon.

"Oh..."

I let out a soft, breathless gasp, my forehead landing right in the crook of his neck.

Instantly, I was wrapped in a scent that didn't belong in a dive apartmentit wasn't the smell of cheap soap or hospital antiseptic. It was expensive cedarwood and cold rain.

I smirked inwardly, but kept my face a mask of fragile exhaustion. My hands gripped his shoulders for support, shifting just enough to ensure I couldn't "quite" find my footing.

As I moved, I heard a low, rough groan vibrate in his chest.

Wait. Something was wrong. He was supposed to be... paralyzed from the waist down, wasn't he? A man in a wheelchair shouldn't have a reaction that visceral, that present.

Heat crawled up my neck, but before I could pull away, a large, searing palm clamped onto my waist. The grip was terrifyingly strongnothing like the weak hold of a chronic patient.

I looked up, startled, and collided with a pair of dark, bottomless eyes. The gentle concern he usually wore was gone, replaced by a turbulent, predatory current.

On the surface, he looked devastated by the news of the "breakup." But his mind was a different story:

[Tsk. This 'damsel in distress' routine is almost painful to watch.]

[Though... her waist is surprisingly small.]

I didn't have time to process his hypocrisy. In the next heartbeat, Gideons mouth was on mine.

The night that followed was a blur of reckless, feverish mistakes.

When I finally drifted back to consciousness, my body felt like it had been pulverized. Sunlight stabbed through the gaps in the curtains. I bolted upright, realizing the space beside me was cold.

The tangled sheets and the mess on the sofa were the only evidence of last nights madness.

The culprit was sitting across the room, perfectly composed in his wheelchair. He was watching me with an unreadable expression. He had slipped back into his "fragile" persona, making the dominant, fierce man from the night before feel like a fever dream.

"Im sorry," he said first. His voice was gravelly, thick with rehearsed guilt. "I heard that Judy wanted to leave me, and I... I lost control. I couldn't handle the rejection."

He paused, looking pained.

"I did something unforgivable to you. You can hate me, hit meIll accept whatever you decide."

He looked like a man seeking penance. His mind, however, was a cold machinery:

[Ugh, what a hassle. It was one night; why does she look like shes about to burst into tears? Still... she tasted better than I expected.]

A surge of white-hot fury crested in my chest. They were all the same.

My sister faked illness for bags; this man faked poverty to play God with people's emotions. They deserved each other.

But I forced my features into a mask of devastation. I pulled the duvet up to my chin, my eyes brimming with tears as my voice trembled.

"You... how could we do this? How can I ever look my sister in the eye again?"

Gideon blinked, seemingly taken aback by my tears. He looked ashamed.

In his head, he sneered:

[She really is the dumbest of the lot, isn't she?]

[Cant see her family is playing her for a fool, and now shes playing the martyr. Pathetic. We spent hours together last nighthow has she not realized my legs work perfectly fine?]

I clenched my jaw under the covers.

Dumb?

Maybe I was, once. Id nearly worked myself into an early grave to buy medicine that was never needed. If I hadn't developed this "glitch" in my hearing, Id still be their slave.

But now? Now I was going to play the game.

If my sister didn't want this "poor, broken man," Id take him. Id take him and everything he was hiding. I was going to make sure they all learned exactly what happens when you push a "saint" too far.

Over the next few days, life settled into a suffocating rhythm.

I still got up before dawn. I still brewed herbal teas and made breakfast. But I quietly quit the three soul-crushing side hustles that had been killing me.

My parents and Judy seemed to sense my "idleness." Their performances grew more dramatic to compensate.

One evening, while I was peeling an apple for my father, he let out a heavy, theatrical sigh.

"I heard from a friend today," he started, staring wistfully out the window. "Theres a clinic in Switzerland. Theyve had incredible success with cases like ours."

My mothers eyes lit up on cue before she slumped back, feigning weakness. "Switzerland? George, we can barely afford the electricity bill. Lets not burden the girl."

"Shes right, Dad," Judy added, her voice a fragile whisper. "The care is better there, but the cost... its impossible."

I watched this perfectly choreographed play, feeling a cold stone where my heart used to be.

The old Caitlin would have been scouring the internet for loans within the hour. They knew exactly which buttons to press.

I set the knife down and pinched my own arm hard, forcing the blood to rush to my face. I let my voice shake with "determined" devotion.

"Dad, Mom... what are you saying?" I stood up, looking at each of them with wide, shimmering eyes. "As long as theres a chance, Im not giving up! Money can be replaced. You cant."

"But honey... the cost..." my mother whimpered.

I gritted my teeth, looking like a woman ready to jump off a cliff for her family.

"Don't worry! If I have to sell my soul, or take out a thousand loans, Ill get you to that clinic! If it means youll get better, Ill do anything!"

The room went silent.

And then, I heard it. The synchronized, deafening thrum of three hearts leaping with greedy joy.

[Got her! The little idiot actually fell for it!]

[Loans? Selling her soul? Haha, shes so easy to manipulate!]

[Finally! Europe! Shopping in Zurich, here I come!]

Their faces, however, were masks of heartbreaking gratitude. My mother reached out to squeeze my hand. "Oh, sweetheart, we don't deserve you."

"Im a failure as a father," my dad sobbed, wiping dry eyes.

"Its okay," I whispered, pulling my hand back gently. "Ill go look into the costs. Just rest."

The moment the door clicked shut behind me, my smile vanished.

Sell my soul? No.

If you want money so badly, Ill "help" you get it.

Over the next week, under the guise of "processing international medical visas," I gathered their ID cards, their passports, and even the forged medical records theyd used to trick me.

I didn't go to a bank. I went to the darkest corners of the cityto the predatory, high-interest "private lenders" who don't ask questions as long as theres collateral.

An hour later, a massive sum of moneywith an interest rate designed to swallow a person wholewas deposited into three brand-new accounts Id opened in their names.

I stepped out into the blinding sunlight and dialed my sister.

"Judy?" My voice was sweet enough to cause cavities. "Tell Mom and Dad the good news. I got the money. All of it. Youre going to Switzerland."

I listened to their muffled cheers on the other end, my lips curling into a jagged smile.

I hope youre just as happy when you come back and find the mountain of debt waiting for you.

As I left the lenders office, I spotted a familiar figure at an outdoor cafe across the street.

Gideon. He was sipping an espresso, looking entirely too relaxed.

I wiped the cold calculation from my face and replaced it with frantic worry. I hurried over to him.

"Gideon? Wheres your wheelchair? Its dangerous for you to be out here alone!"

He froze, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his eyes before he smoothed it over.

[This woman... is she actually serious? Does she still think Im a cripple?]

I pretended not to notice his confusion. He set his cup down, his voice dropping into that husky, vulnerable register.

"The chair is being serviced. I just needed some air. I felt... trapped." His eyes flickered to the thick envelope in my hand. "What are you doing in this neighborhood?"

I looked away, biting my lip. He reached for the envelope, and I let him "accidentally" see the loan documents.

"I... I was trying to secure some funds," I whispered, my eyes turning red. "But please, don't tell Judy. I don't want her to worry about how Im paying for her treatment."

Gideon stared at me like I was a specimen in a jar.

[Is she a saint or just a moron? Shes taking out shark loans for those three parasites?]

We sat in a heavy silence for a moment. Then, I stood up and offered my hand.

"Its going to rain. Let me get you home."

Gideon hesitated. I looked at him with pure, unadulterated "kindness."

"I forgotyour legs. Ill call an Uber, but let me carry you to the curb so you don't have to struggle."

[Carry me? Has she lost her mind?]

Despite his internal mocking, something in my persistence made him yield. He let me hoist his arm over my shoulder. He was heavysolid muscleand I buckled slightly, gritting my teeth as I maneuvered him toward a taxi.

By the time we reached his cramped "studio apartment," the sky had broken. A torrential downpour washed over us.

I fumbled with the door, and as we crossed the threshold, I purposely tripped, sending both of us sprawling onto the floor.

"Im so sorry! Are you okay?"

I ignored my own scraped knees and scrambled to my feet, kneeling beside him. I cupped his face with trembling hands, my tears mixing with the rain dripping from my hair.

Gideon lay there, soaked through, looking weary and defeated. "Its fine. Im just... a burden."

I held his face tighter, my eyes burning with a feigned intensity. "Don't you ever say that. You are not a burden. Youre going to get better. Ill make sure of it."

He opened his eyes wide. The mockery was gone, replaced by a dark, complex confusion.

[She...]

Looking at his lips, so close to mine, I leaned down in the middle of the storm and kissed him.

I woke up the next morning to an empty bed.

Voices drifted from the balcony. Gideon was on the phone, his tone low and authoritative.

"I know. Ill be back within the week. Prepare the board."

I stayed still, heart hammering, as he ended the call and walked back into the room. He stopped by the bed, his gaze burning into me. His thoughts were crystal clear:

[My father is breathing down my neck to take over the company. This 'undercover' game is over. Judy was a bore, but this sister... shes fascinating in her stupidity. Maybe Ill fake a relapse, see how far her 'martyr' complex actually goes.]

I kept my eyes shut, my mind racing.

The next morning, I showed up at his door with a thermal flask and a bright smile.

"Judy and my parents left for Switzerland this morning. They think they found a cure. Im going to take care of you while shes gone."

Gideon looked stunned, then masked it with "gratitude." For the next few days, I was the perfect housewife. I cleaned his dingy apartment, cooked for him, and organized his life.

Then, during dinner, Gideon suddenly clutched his nose. Blood dripped onto his plate.

"Its nothing," he muttered. "Just a bit of stress."

I insisted on taking him to the hospital.

The results came back an hour later.

Cancer. Stage four.

Gideon played the part of the broken man perfectly. He turned his face away, his voice cold. "Go away. Don't come back. You shouldn't waste your life on a dead man."

I didn't argue. I didn't cry. I simply turned and walked out without a second glance.

Behind the closed door, I heard his mental chuckle:

[I thought shed make a scene. At least she knows when to quit.]

I paused in the hallway, a slow, cold smile spreading across my face.

You think youre the only one playing a game, Gideon? My move hasn't even started yet.

Two days later, I went to a shady clinic and sold 400ml of my rare blood type. Then, I walked to Gideons door, waited for the exact moment I felt the lightheadedness peak, and collapsed.

The smell of hospital grade disinfectant greeted me as I drifted back. A doctors voice was muffled in the distance:

"Shes pregnant. Between the malnutrition and the blood loss, shes lucky she didn't lose the baby. She needs absolute rest."

I felt a heavy, burning gaze on me. I waited until the doctor left before opening my eyes.

Gideon was sitting by the bed, his expression a chaotic mess of guilt and shock. "How are you feeling?"

I didn't answer. I reached into my pocket with a trembling hand and pulled out a debit card.

"This is everything Ive saved," I whispered, my voice cracked. "Take it for your treatment. Don't worry about me. I... Im going to terminate the pregnancy. I cant bring a child into this."

Gideons eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "Where did you get this much money? And why would you get rid of the baby?"

I let out a hollow, jagged laugh.

"Our 'mistake' was never supposed to happen. I want this baby more than anything, Gideon, but Im broke and youre dying. I won't bring a child into the world just to watch them suffer like I have."

Gideon stared at his phone. Hed clearly been doing some digging. "You fainted because you sold your blood? You sold your blood to give me this card?"

I didn't say a word. I just forced the card into his hand.

He gripped it, his face twisting in a way Id never seen. He sat in silence for a long time before handing the card back.

"Im going to marry you," he said. "Keep the baby. Ill provide for both of you."

"But your illness"

"The hospital made a mistake," he said quickly, his voice firm. "Its not cancer. Im going to be fine."

I pretended to be overwhelmed by the "miracle," while my heart hammered with triumph.

Gideon pulled out his phone and, right then and there, transferred five million dollars into my account. The zeros on the screen were dazzling.

"I have money, Caitlin. You never have to worry again."

I forced a look of pure, wide-eyed shock, while internally I was screaming.

Five million.

Goodbye, poverty. Hello, luxury.

I was moved to a VIP suite. I ate food I couldn't pronounce. Two months later, we had a small, private wedding.

But as I smoothed down my silk gown, ready to walk into the reception hall, a familiar screech echoed from the entrance.

"Caitlin! You backstabbing bitch! You took out loans in our names!"

It was my mother.

I turned to see my parents and Judy standing there, looking bedraggled and furious. Judys eyes landed on my designer dress and the diamond-encrusted venue. She grabbed my mothers arm, her voice dripping with sudden, venomous greed.

"So, youre getting married to a rich guy, huh, Sis?" Judy smirked. "How much is the dowry? Because whatever it is, its going toward our debt. Consider it his way of proving hes worthy of our family."

I saw Gideon walking toward us, his tall, imposing figure casting a long shadow. I smiled.

"Sure. Your brother-in-law is right there. Why don't you ask him for the money yourselves?"