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The Child is Yours
Last Updated:
2025-07-15 06:00:47
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I DIVORCED HIM! NOW, HE REGRETS THE AFTERMATH OF THE MACARON
CHAPTER 150 – THE AFTERMATH OF THE MACARON“Who did that?!” Gunther’s voice cracked through the ballroom like a whip.The crowd parted slightly — everyone pretending they weren’t staring while very obviously staring. The room shimmered with chandeliers and gossip; even the violins faltered, like they were afraid to play the wrong note in this kind of tension.I turned just in time to see Grace standing there, posture straight, her face calm as a saint’s — except for that mischievous spark dancing in her eyes. She didn’t even flinch.I laughed. Loudly.“Sorry, it slipped,” she said innocently, even though we both knew she had the aim of a trained assassin. That macaron hadn’t “slipped” — it had landed with intention.The laughter escaped me again, full-bodied this time. It was the first real laugh I’d had all night — sharp and cleansing, like someone had opened a window in a stuffy room.Gunther’s face, meanwhile, was a spectacular shade of crimson. The frosting still clung to his chee
I DIVORCED HIM! NOW, HE REGRETS THE MACARONS STRIKES BACK
CHAPTER 149 – THE MACARON STRIKES BACK“Now then,” Gunther said, adjusting his cufflinks like the room belonged to him, “before we were rudely interrupted…” His gaze flicked to Grace, then back to me with a smirk that made my blood crawl. “I would like to date you.”For a moment, I thought I misheard him.“Sorry, what?”He leaned closer, lowering his voice just enough to make it sound conspiratorial. “I said, I would like to date you, Maya. Think about it — you and I. Power meets legacy. Beauty meets business.”He said it like a business pitch, not a confession. His words didn’t hold warmth, just entitlement — like he was offering me a deal, not a choice.I stared at him, blankly at first. Then the disbelief bubbled up. “To that I say…” I set down my glass, slow and deliberate, “no.”His face froze, then he laughed — an ugly, condescending kind of laugh that grated against the soft jazz playing in the background. “No?”“Yeah.” I tilted my head. “Short word, big meaning.”He blinked li
I DIVORCED HIM! NOW, HE REGRETS THE MACARON AND THE MOUTH
CHAPTER 148 – THE MACARON AND THE MOUTH“Sorry I haven’t—”“I won’t blame you,” Gunther cut in smoothly, his tone already dripping with that entitled arrogance money always seemed to breed. “I heard you’ve been frolicking with the poor.”My smile froze mid-sentence. “Excuse me?”“Yes.” He smirked, swirling his champagne like he’d been waiting all evening to deliver this line. “Larry, Aleksander, and now… a caterer? Maya, you can do better.”The words dropped like ice cubes into a burning glass. People nearby pretended not to listen, but I could feel their attention sharpen — like wolves catching scent of blood.I blinked, stunned. “Did you just—”He leaned in, his breath reeking of arrogance and overpriced whiskey. “You’ve always had potential,” he said, almost fondly. “But you’re wasting it hanging around people who’ll never be invited into rooms like this.”I wanted to say something sharp — anything — but he kept talking, his voice slicing right over mine.“I’m the one and only heir
I DIVORCED HIM! NOW, HE REGRETS THE DERRERSTS AND THE STRANGERS
CHAPTER 147 — THE DESSERTS AND THE STRANGERMAYA’S POVI shouldn’t have smiled, but I did.Grace stood by the dessert table like she owned the entire catering setup. Her white apron was dusted with powdered sugar, her hair pulled into a loose bun that let a few curls fall around her face. Even from across the room, I could smell the faint sweetness of vanilla mixed with her perfume — something light, like gardenia and rain. The table beside her looked like a painting: éclairs lined in perfect rows, strawberry tarts glistening under the lights, and towers of macarons that looked too pretty to eat.“Wow, Grace! The dessert spread looks amazing,” I said, walking closer, pretending my heart wasn’t doing that stupid skip thing again.Her face brightened instantly when she saw me. “Thank you. It’s the first time our café is catering something this big, so…” she rubbed the back of her neck with a shy smile, “I wanted to do my best.”There was frosting on her wrist. A small streak, barely not
I DIVORCED HIM! NOW, HE REGRETS THE IMPOSTER
CHAPTER 146 — THE IMPOSTERMAYA’S POVThe voice hit like a dart aimed straight for my spine — smug, booming, and dripping with that brand of superiority only men with money and insecurity manage to master.I turned.There he was.Mr. Rockwell Watterson. The same heavy-set man from my search results, only worse in person — fleshier, meaner, with the kind of grin that made you want to wash your soul after looking at it. He stood at the base of the stairs, one hand wrapped around a glass of red wine that looked too delicate for him.The crowd parted as if he’d orchestrated it. The lights caught the silver of his cufflinks and the dark slick of his hair. I’d seen this man before — on screen, in reports, in the shadows of Marvin’s mess — but standing in front of him, I understood why Damian had said he carried his opinions like weapons.“What is she doing here?” he said, loud enough to slice through the music.The room fell quiet. Heads turned. The chatter died like a flame snuffed out by
I DIVORCED HIM! NOW, HE REGRETS THE GALA
CHAPTER 145 — THE GALAMAYA’S POVThere are mornings when your reflection matches your mood — messy, tired, undecided. Then there are mornings when the mirror gives you answers you didn’t know you needed. Today the mirror said, Ready. Dangerous. Beautiful in a way that didn’t ask for permission.I stood in front of the vanity, one heel dangling from my fingers, and stared at the woman I’d forced into armor the night before: the black gown, the slit that meant business, the neckline that negotiated attention without begging for it. The stylist had done her thing; Damian had done his (control remains his cardio), and now it was my turn to do something I was pathetically good at — pretend I had it all under control.Before I slipped on the second heel, I crossed to my laptop because dumb luck sometimes hides behind a blinking cursor. If there was anything to salvage tonight — anything to give me a lead on Marvin’s shooting or even a hint about Mr Watterson — it would be in someone’s cale
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