Novels by Pearl Charles

Nadia's Pov The waiting room was too bright, too cheerful, with its pastel walls and parenting magazines. I sat with my hands folded over my stomach, trying to ignore Julian sitting beside me in a chair clearly too small for his frame.He'd arrived exactly on time, carrying two coffee cups."Decaf," he'd said, offering me one. "With cream, no sugar. That's how you take it, right?"I stared at him, surprised he remembered. Then I realized he probably didn't remember he'd probably asked his assistant to find out."I can't have coffee," I'd said. "Caffeine restrictions."He'd looked genuinely confused. "But you're holding a cup from the coffee shop downstairs yesterday when I’’ He stopped. "You were watching me from the window. You had coffee.""It was hot chocolate." I'd taken the cup anyway because it was warm and my hands were cold. "But thank you."Now we sat in silence while other pregnant women came and went with their partners, their mothers, their friends. Support systems I didn

Julian's Pov Marcus was waiting in my office when I returned from Brooklyn."Heard about the baby," he said, feet propped on my desk like he already owned it. "Congratulations, cousin. Didn't think you had it in you."I walked past him to the bar cart, poured myself two fingers of scotch. It was barely noon, but I needed something to wash away the look on Nadia's face when I'd threatened her with lawyers."Get your feet off my desk."Marcus laughed but complied. "Touchy. I'm just here to offer my support during this difficult time. Grandmother's death must be hard on you.""Cut the act. What do you want?""Just checking in on my family." He stood, straightening his tie. "Making sure you understand the situation. That baby needs to be born within the Ashford family. Legitimate. Legal. No complications.""I'm aware.""Are you?" Marcus moved closer, his smile sharp. "Because from what I hear, your ex-wife hates your guts. She's not going to make this easy. And if that baby is born after

Nadia's Pov I slammed the door in his face.My hands shook as I leaned against it, heart hammering. How did he know? I'd been so careful. Used my maiden name at the doctor's office, paid cash for everything, avoided anywhere he might see me."Nadia, open the door." Julian's voice was calm, controlled. The same tone he used in board meetings."Go away.""We need to talk about this.""There's nothing to talk about." I pressed my hand to my stomach, feeling the baby kick. She always kicked when I was stressed, like she could sense my anxiety. "The divorce is almost final. You made it very clear you wanted nothing to do with me.""That was before I knew you were carrying my child."Of course. The baby changed everything for him, didn't it? Not because he cared about being a father, but because Julian Ashford never left loose ends. A child was a liability, something that needed to be managed, controlled."Please," he said, and the word sounded foreign in his mouth. Julian didn't say pleas

Julian's Pov"Your grandmother left everything to a child that doesn't exist."I stared at Mitchell, my head lawyer, across the mahogany desk in my office. Outside, Manhattan glittered forty stories below, but I couldn't focus on anything except the words that had just come out of his mouth."Explain," I said.Mitchell shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. In fifteen years of working together, I'd never seen him nervous. "The will specifies that controlling shares of Ashford Industries fifty-one percent go to your firstborn child upon your grandmother's death. Not to you. To your heir.""That's insane." I stood, pacing to the window. "I'm her only grandson. The company should come to me.""She was very specific, Julian. The shares are held in trust until your child turns eighteen. Until then, the child's mother has voting rights." He paused. "Your grandmother wanted to ensure the Ashford line continued. She believed you'd never prioritize family unless forced to."I laughed bitterly. My

Nadia's Pov "You need to sign these."I looked up from my laptop to find my husband standing in the doorway of what used to be our shared study. Julian Ashford, tech mogul, perpetual absence, the man I'd married six years ago in a cathedral filled with strangers. He held a manila folder like it contained quarterly reports instead of the end of our marriage."Now?" I asked, hating how small my voice sounded."I have a flight to Singapore in two hours." He didn't step inside, just stood there in his perfectly tailored suit, checking his Rolex. Always checking that damn watch, as if every second with me was time stolen from something more important.I stood, my hands trembling as I reached for the folder. Divorce papers. I'd asked for them three weeks ago, sitting across from him at the dining table we'd used maybe five times in six years. I'd rehearsed a speech about incompatibility and wanting different things, but he'd cut me off."Fine," he'd said. "I'll have my lawyers draw somethi