One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

It was past midnight when Arielle finally slipped the front door closed behind her and leaned against it, the wood warm with the residual heat of the day. The apartment was dim, quiet, the only sound the rhythmic ticking of the old wall clock in the living room. The kids were asleep—bless Rosita for somehow wrangling eight little tornados into calm.
Arielle peeled off her shoes and walked barefoot across the room, dodging a stray LEGO. She moved like a ghost, her body aching, her mind too loud.
She stood in the hallway between the children’s rooms. In one, her four boys were sprawled out in a chaos of mismatched pajamas and superhero sheets. In the other, the girls lay cuddled together in a sea of stuffed animals and hair ribbons.
Her heart pulled tight.
Eight perfect children. Eight beautiful faces. Eight different personalities.
All from one night.
But the world didn’t know that.
Not even Rosita.
Everyone believed Arielle had gone through IVF. And technically, she had. What she didn’t share was the truth—that she’d only gone in for a routine check-up after Vegas. When the nausea and fatigue started, she assumed it was stress. But a single test shattered everything.
Pregnant.
But not just pregnant. With eight.
The doctors had been shocked. Confused. There was no record of hormone stimulation, no donor vials. No procedures. But the DNA markers all pointed back to a single donor—spontaneous hyperovulation, they called it.
A medical miracle.
Arielle called it something else: the aftermath of a night that branded her skin and rewrote her life.
At first, she tried to track him down. Not out of desperation, but responsibility. She didn’t know his name—but she remembered the hotel, the bar, the room. She even returned to the hotel a month later, but he was gone. No trace. Like smoke in the wind.
So she lied.
She told the doctors she’d done IVF. Told the world she’d always wanted a big family. Said the donor was anonymous.
And she had raised them—every scraped knee, every first word, every night of colic and every morning of giggles—alone.
She’d loved them with every fiber of her soul. She didn’t need a man to validate their worth. Or hers.
Until he walked in that diner.
Until she realized fate wasn’t finished with her story yet.
Now, standing in the kitchen, she pulled out a manila folder from a drawer beneath the sink. Hidden behind old manuals and expired coupons, it was labeled only with a single letter: D.
Inside were birth records. Copies of genetic tests. A baby photo of each child. And a photo she had printed the morning after Vegas—a grainy hotel surveillance still she’d begged a hotel receptionist to sneak her. It was the only image she had of him.
Damien Kingston.
Arielle stared at it for a long time.
She’d seen his name in magazines. Watched his rise in the business world from afar. Billionaire. Visionary. Ice-cold CEO of Kingston Holdings. She hadn’t let herself dream too long on the what-ifs. He didn’t know. He didn’t need to know.
But now?
Now she was unemployed. Desperate. And the man who unknowingly fathered her children might be the only way to keep them fed, clothed, and safe.
She clutched the file to her chest.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered. “Tomorrow, I start over.”
The next morning, Arielle stood outside Kingston Holdings in a navy blouse borrowed from Rosita and black slacks that barely fit her anymore. The building was a silver monolith in the middle of downtown—modern, sleek, intimidating.
She clutched her application and resume to her chest.
It was a long shot. She wasn’t qualified. But they were hiring for administrative support—and she was desperate enough to lie about her typing speed.
Inside, the receptionist barely looked up.
“Application?”
Arielle handed it over with a smile.
The woman flipped through it. Her brows lifted.
“You’re lucky. There’s an open interview slot today. Fifth floor. HR.”
Arielle swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
As she rode the elevator up, her reflection stared back from the chrome panel. The truth clung to her skin like sweat. He was here. Somewhere in this building.
And if fate was cruel enough, she might see him again.
But this time, she wouldn’t just be the girl from one night.
She’d be the woman with eight surprises he never saw coming.