Billionaires Obsession With Pregnant Women

Zed Blackwood was addicted to pregnant women.Not sexually.Emotionally.

That was the disturbing part—the part that kept him awake on nights when the city lights felt too sharp and the silence in his penthouse grew teeth. He loved the raw vulnerability in them, the way their bodies betrayed them with swelling bellies and aching backs while the world slowly, quietly abandoned them. He loved the loneliness that settled into their eyes like dust. He loved how desperately they needed to feel chosen, seen, wanted, when everything else in their lives seemed to be shifting away from them.

Pregnant women loved harder. Needed harder. And Zed liked being needed. Craved it, really. It filled some hollow place inside him that nothing else ever touched.

That was why he kept ruining them.

The woman beneath him—her name was Elena, though names always blurred together after a while—moaned softly against his neck. The sound was low and needy, vibrating through his skin. Expensive city lights flickered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, casting shifting patterns of gold and silver across their bodies. Her swollen stomach pressed lightly against his waist as she clung to him like he was something permanent. Like he was the anchor she’d been searching for in the storm of her pregnancy.

She believed he would stay.They always believed he would stay.

Zed kissed her slowly, expertly, the way he had perfected over years of practice. His hand slid possessively across the curve of her belly, feeling the warmth of her skin and the faint, mysterious flutter of life beneath it. She shivered beneath his touch, arching into him with a trust that made something dark and satisfied uncoil in his chest.

“You make me feel safe,” she whispered breathlessly, her voice cracking just enough to reveal the fear she tried so hard to hide.

There it was.That sentence.His favorite sentence.

A slow, predatory smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Safe. If only she knew how dangerous that word was in his mouth.

“You overthink too much,” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and soothing, the kind of tone that made women lean in closer.

Elena laughed weakly, the sound fragile. “That’s because I’m scared all the time lately.”

Of course she was scared. Her boyfriend—some worthless coward named Marcus—had left three months ago the moment he found out she was pregnant. Zed had learned every detail during their second meeting: the screaming match, the slammed door, the way she’d sat on the floor of her apartment afterward, hands pressed to her growing belly, crying until she had nothing left. He always learned everything first.

Fear.Loneliness.Abandonment.Weakness.

Then he became exactly what they needed. The protector. The listener. The man who stayed. At least for a while.

His fingers brushed gently through her damp hair as she looked up at him with soft, emotional dependence already shining brightly in her eyes. Too easy. It was always too easy. These women were starving for someone to see them as more than just a problem to be dealt with. And Zed was very, very good at pretending to be that someone.

“You’re thinking again,” she whispered, her hand resting on his chest as if she could feel the storm inside him.

Zed blinked slowly, forcing warmth back into his expression like sliding on a well-worn mask. “Just tired.”

“Stay tonight.”

The words came out quietly. Hopefully. Almost pleading.

And there it was—the beginning of the end. Because the moment they started asking him to stay, the moment they began believing he belonged to them, the interest began to curdle inside him. The chase lost its flavor. The need became suffocating instead of intoxicating.

Zed rolled onto his back slowly, the expensive sheets cool against his skin. He reached toward the nightstand where his phone vibrated endlessly against the polished wood, the blue light cutting through the darkness. Three missed calls. He ignored them, the way he ignored most things that tried to pull him back into reality.

Elena curled against his chest immediately, tracing lazy circles on his skin with her fingertips. She was smiling to herself, soft and content, like she’d won something precious. Poor thing. She had no idea she was already losing.

“You know,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, “I think I’m falling for you.”

Zed stared silently at the ceiling, watching the play of city lights across the plaster. There it was. Always eventually there. Love. Attachment. Dependence. The exact moment things became heavy, when the beautiful vulnerability turned into chains.

His jaw tightened faintly.

Beside him, Elena mistook his silence for deep emotion. She smiled wider, radiant in her hope, and rested her hand over his heart. “You’re so different from other men.”

A sharp laugh almost escaped him. Different. If only she knew there were three other pregnant women scattered across the city right now, each one crying over him in their own quiet ways. Each one still waiting for the man who had promised them safety.

He had no idea why he was like this. Why pregnant women specifically pulled him in like a drug. Maybe it was because they were emotionally open in a way no one else was—raw, unguarded, their hearts cracked wide by hormones and fear and the terrifying reality of creating life alone. Maybe because they needed protection so viscerally. Maybe because their love felt desperate and all-consuming, the kind that made him feel irreplaceable, godlike even, to someone carrying another life inside them.

Whatever the reason, he was self-aware enough to know he was toxic. He just wasn’t good enough to care. Or maybe he simply didn’t want to stop.

His phone vibrated again, insistent this time. He picked it up.

Unknown Number.

Zed almost ignored it, but then a message appeared beneath the missed call notifications.

HER SISTER DIED BECAUSE OF YOU.

His expression went completely still. The warmth drained from his face like someone had pulled a plug.

Elena noticed immediately, lifting her head. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said softly, though everything felt suddenly electric.

He stared at the message for several long seconds. Then another arrived.

I hope you ruin slowly the same way she did.

A strange feeling crawled down his spine. Not fear. Something closer to interest. A spark in the darkness.

Then the final message appeared.

You deserve to suffer before you die.

For the first time in a very long while, Zed smiled—slow, genuine, and chilling.

Because suddenly, someone out there hated him enough to finally become interesting.

Sarah pushed open the door to her small apartment, shoulders heavy with exhaustion. The day had been long—longer than usual. Her back ached, her feet felt swollen, and the subtle but constant nausea that had become her unwanted companion these past months refused to leave. She dropped her bag by the door and collapsed onto the old couch, not even bothering to change out of her clothes. All she wanted was a few minutes of peace. Just a little sleep before she faced the rest of her duties.

She drifted off almost immediately.

When she woke, the room was darker. Three hours had slipped away. Her phone was ringing non-stop on the coffee table, vibrating angrily against the wood. Sarah rubbed her eyes, heart jumping a little. Apart from her mother and her friend Anita, she wasn’t used to receiving calls. She stared at the screen for a second before picking up.

As she had predicted, it was her mother.

“Sarah, my baby. How are you today?” Her mother’s voice was warm