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Amelia is pregnant with my child
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2025-08-03 00:00:25
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I Mistook The Billionaire For A Stripper Amelia is pregnant with my child
ChloeMy hand grazed the wall as I descended the stairs, my fingers white from how tightly I clung to the railing. Every step felt like a difficult job. My knees wobbled beneath me, my vision swimming in and out of focus. My body screamed at me to stop, and rest. But I kept going.I don’t even know why.Habit? Pride? Hope?No. Hope died yesrs ago.By the time I reached the bottom, my legs were trembling so badly I had to pause and lean against the wall. My breathing was shallow, barely enough to keep me conscious.As I walked forward, voices drifted from the living room. I turned my head toward the sound just as the maid beside me reached out and touched my arm.“Madam,” she whispered, almost nervously, “perhaps, you should rest here for a moment before going in.”I stared at her, confused. My brows furrowed slightly. “Why?”She flinched. “Just… the atmosphere might not be good for you right now.”My gaze drifted toward the living room. Something felt off, but really, what worse could
I Mistook The Billionaire For A Stripper You can never be happy
ChloeI stared blankly at the ceiling, breathing, maybe, but barely.I couldn't even tell if I was alive anymore. What defined life anyway? Movement? Feeling? Heartbeats? I had those, technically. But I didn’t feel them.I was there, and at the same time, I wasn’t.Three days. That’s how long I’ve been in this room, sealed off from the world, from reality, and from myself.I don’t cry anymore. There’s no energy left for that. I just… exist.I wake up.I breathe.I stare.And sometimes, if I remember what hunger is supposed to feel like, I force down a few bites of food the maids bring. Not because I want to live, but because my body insists on surviving even when my mind has given up.Every few hours, I drag myself into the shower, scrub the same skin that doesn’t feel like mine, brush the same teeth I haven’t smiled with in days, then change into fresh clothes I don’t remember picking out.Then I go back to the bed. And stare at the ceiling.Repeat.I don’t know what time it is. I do
I Mistook The Billionaire For A Stripper Even the devil himself would beg for leniency
Alexander I drummed my fingers on the desk, the taps echoing in the silence. I wasn’t even aware I was doing it until the secretary flinched. The air in the office felt colder than usual.My eyes stayed on my phone.Still no message, or call.Across from me my assistant stood stiff, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He looked like he might pass out. He cleared his throat once, twice, then finally dared to speak.“F-For the department mall project, it’s still under construction, sir. But, uh… the contractors are having issues with that portion of land that hasn’t been secured yet. The woman who owns it won’t take any calls, she blocks every number I contact her with, and refuses to meet.”I didn’t lift my eyes. The corner of my jaw ticked as I leaned back in the chair, eyes narrowing at the blank screen. I finally muttered, “How frustrating.”My secretary let out a strangled noise, misinterpreting the target of my irritation. “I-I’m sorry, sir,” he said, bowing his head. “I did
I Mistook The Billionaire For A Stripper You manipulative little bitch
Logan “I will never forgive you.” Her words echoed in my head. I drowned the glass of whiskey in one gulp. The music around me was loud and pounding, the bass shaking the leather beneath me. The laughter around me was annoying as hell. Fingers touched my arm, another hand brushed over my thigh. I swatted them away like they were mosquitoes. “Don’t.” “Logan.” one of them purred, trying again. “Don’t touch me.” This time, they got the message. Next to me, Milo chuckled, waving the women off casually. “You girls, give us a moment, yeah? Guy talk.” They rolled their eyes but left. The click of the door shutting behind them. Milo turned to me, cocking a brow. “Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?” I didn’t answer. I just ran a hand through my hair again, tugging it at the roots, the alcohol finally beginning to blur my sight. He leaned forward on the low glass table. “I mean, I get it. You never touch the girls I bring. Fine. But today, you can’t even look at them. You’re sw
I Mistook The Billionaire For A Stripper I will never forgive you
Chloe Present time I didn’t know why all those memories suddenly flooded my mind. Maybe it was when he said he knew all along that I was forced. Or maybe it was when he said I chose them over him. I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that his words cut deeper than anything else ever had. Because even now, with the truth out in the open, with the reason behind his hatred finally laid bare, I felt nothing but emptiness. All those years. Every ache, every injustice, every day I spent in hell was all because of a misunderstanding. How was I supposed to accept that? How was I supposed to swallow the truth, that if I had just opened my mouth that day, if I had told him everything about my mother, about how they were holding her hostage over my head, maybe our lives would have turned out better. He wouldn’t have grown up carrying the belief that I stayed with those people because he wasn’t enough for me. All I could think about was what if? What if I had told him everything? Would we
I Mistook The Billionaire For A Stripper You’ve made your choice
Chloe “Let’s break up, Logan.” The room fell silent. Nobody spoke. And who could? The girl who shattered someone’s heart? Or the boy who just watched his world fall apart? Logan blinked at me, stunned. His lips parted, but no sound came out. His entire body looked frozen, as if his brain refused to register what his ears had just heard. “What?” he finally whispered, voice trembling. I looked away, my hands curling into fists at my sides. God, I hated this. I hated every syllable I was about to say, but I forced them out anyway. “I said, let’s break up. I think I was clear, Logan. I want to break up with you.” He staggered back a step, like I had physically hit him. His hands ran through his hair. His eyes searched mine, desperate for an answer. “What?” he repeated again, louder this time. “Chloe, what are you saying? You want to end things? Why? Is it because of something I did? Just tell me what I did and I’ll fix it. You can yell at me, hit me, hate me for a day, a week,
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