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One hundred and eight
Last Updated:
2025-09-19 00:35:25
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Mr. President Has A Baby Bump One hundred and eight
~~Dahlia~~Did this motherfucker just say I’m smelling?Like… what the actual fuck.Was this a joke to them? Were they both sitting here laughing inside, plotting to make me look like some ragged street urchin dragged in from the sewers? My insane, dramatic brother just declared his undying love for the damn fiancé no no…. I mean psycho ex… like this was some romance drama and now me, Dahlia, was the punchline?After everything?After I was dragged from Japan against my will, shoved on that godforsaken ship, forced back to this city I swore I wouldn’t set foot in—just so I could face this humiliation?What the fuck were they riding at?My fists clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms. My voice snapped, cutting through the room.“Did you just say I was smelling?”I stalked forward, my heels clicking sharp against the polished floor, each step daring him to repeat it.And what did my mountain of a fiancé do?He didn’t even look at me. He just whimpered like some princess in distre
Mr. President Has A Baby Bump One hundred and seven
~~Nina~~What the hell was going on here?Why was a huge man like him broad shoulders, chest like a wall acting like some delicate drama queen, clinging to me as though the world would end if he let go? His grip wasn’t just tight; it was desperate, trembling with something raw. And his stomach pressed against me, round and solid, dragging my mind into questions I didn’t even want to think about.And God, it felt strange. Strange, but not wrong.Every instinct in me screamed that I should shove him off, laugh at his foolishness, remind him I wasn’t his sister, that I wasn’t even supposed to exist here. But instead… I just stood there, frozen, letting him lean on me, letting his ridiculous damsel-in-distress act play out.Because the truth?He didn’t even feel like a stranger.And that… that was the part that unsettled me the most. Something deep in my chest, a part of me I didn’t know existed, wanted to tolerate his foolishness. Wanted to hold him, soothe him, tell him whatever storm h
Mr. President Has A Baby Bump One hundred and six
Third person POV The courtyard was still frozen in collective disbelief.Every pair of eyes from the armed guards to the Alpha team flanking the entrance tracked the surreal sight of their president striding toward the mansion, cradling a full-grown man in his arms like a spoiled child.Dahlia broke the silence first after he left… her voice pitched high with incredulity. “Really? They don’t even care to hide it anymore?”Her words sliced through the stunned air, and a ripple of murmurs broke out behind her.The Alpha team exchanged uneasy glances, their rigid formation faltering. “Who the hell… was that?” one muttered under his breath. “That’s definitely not our president. Our president won’t…. Since when does he—”“Carry men around like toddlers?” another finished, jaw slack.Even Ethan, usually unreadable and collected, stood rooted in place, his composure stripped bare. He blinked once. Twice. His lips parted, but no sound came. His brain simply refused to compute what he was see
Mr. President Has A Baby Bump One hundred and five
~Nina~~Driving into this castle-like house that screamed luxury, I couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, like the world had suddenly shifted beneath my feet. My eyes kept darting from the towering walls to the sprawling windows glinting under the evening light. The place didn’t just whisper wealth… it shouted it in a voice so loud it left me bewildered.What the actual fuck… rich people really do know how to showcase their wealth.Beside me, Dahlia leaned forward, curiosity tugging at her voice.“Ethan, did Alex move…?”“Yes, Young Miss,” Ethan replied smoothly, professional as ever. “The president moved here because he preferred it.”Dahlia clicked her tongue, dragging the sound out with a hiss. “Whatever,” she muttered, slumping back with a roll of her eyes, but I could feel her tension radiating in the car.As we drove deeper through the massive iron gates, the reality of it settled on me like a weight pressing down. Cameras were tucked into every angle, shadows of guards
Mr. President Has A Baby Bump One hundred and four
~~Dahlia~~Did I hear her say she wants to head home?My head snapped around so fast I almost gave myself whiplash. Home? After everything? After being stuck on that stupid boat in the middle of nowhere, glued side by side for over a week now she suddenly wanted to leave me?The nerve.I was already pissed about being dragged to see that son of a biscuit of a brother. And now this? She wanted to just part ways? The weird part was… I didn’t like it.At all.I’d gotten used to her… her quiet stares, her awkward little silences, even the way she acted like she was always two steps out of place. Somehow, she’d fit into my space like she’d always been there. And the thought of her walking away now made something ugly and sad twist in my stomach.“We’re sorry, Vice President Lena,” Ethan cut in quickly, his voice tight, too professional, like he was trying to hide something. “But we were instructed to bring you as well.”That single word as well warmed me in a way it shouldn’t have. He said
Mr. President Has A Baby Bump One hundred and three
~~Nina~~I’ve honestly lost count of how many days I’ve been on this godforsaken ship. The sea stretches the same damn shade of gray until my eyes blur it into one long, nauseous smear. I hate water. Hate the way it swallows sound and horizons and hope. But the woman I’m pretending to be… May…. probably doesn’t. So I smile. I act cool. I sip whatever they hand me like I’m having the time of my life while my stomach liquefies.The thing is, the game’s not fun anymore. I’m not the one playing. Dahlia and her brother’s men are running the show, and I’m just a prop they haven’t quite decided whether to keep. I used to think Dahlia was cute dangerous in a way that made you want to step closer but cute doesn’t cut it when you’re sitting in the middle of the Atlantic and no one seems to notice if you vanish. There’s nothing cute about the idea of drowning while my people scroll through their phones and call it a “strategic reposition.”Or maybe they would notice. Maybe they wouldn’t. Being a
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