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Chapter One Hundred Three
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2025-09-11 07:30:37Mira’s P.O.V
The rest of the day blurred, but not in the soft way time sometimes slips past. This blur was jagged, like shards of glass pressing close but never cutting—yet. I tried to busy myself. In the library, I opened a book and stared at its pages until the words tangled into nonsense. In the drawing room, I pretended to sketch, pencil hovering above the paper while my mind spun elsewhere. Every tick of the clock sounded sharper, like the hands were slicing through my composure with each second. The mansion wasn’t just silent—it was listening. The echo of my footsteps followed me too closely, the weight of unseen eyes lingered even when I turned corners. I told myself it was paranoia, but I knew better. Here, nothing went unnoticed. By late afternoon, a storm had gathered over Tagaytay. Thunder rolled somewhere beyond the hills, the sky a heavy slate. The light through the tall windows shifted, dull and bruised.<
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Pregnant By The Billionaire Chapter One Hundred Sixteen
Mira’s P.O.VThe rhythm of footsteps drew closer, steady and unhurried. Every click of leather against marble seemed to echo twice as loud inside my chest. My fingers tightened around the edge of the table, the wood cool beneath my skin, as though bracing could anchor me against the inevitable.Then the door eased open.Luca stepped into the kitchen as though he owned not just the villa, but the very air inside it. He wore a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, collar undone just enough to reveal the sharp line of his throat. The morning light caught the edge of his jaw, shadowing half of his face and sharpening the other.His gaze found me immediately. Always.“You’re awake early.” His voice was smooth, steady, but the undertone carried weight—something between accusation and quiet interest.I pressed my hands against the cup still on the table, though the tea inside had already cooled. “I couldn’t sleep.”H
Pregnant By The Billionaire Chapter One Hundred Fifteen
Mira’s P.O.VMorning crept slowly into the villa, pale light sliding across the marble floor and glinting against the heavy frames of the paintings that lined the corridor. The air carried a faint dampness, the kind that clung to the skin after the night’s coolness. Somewhere, a maid had opened the windows too early, letting in the scent of wet earth and pine.I walked carefully, one hand resting at the small of my back for balance. Every movement felt heavier now. My body no longer belonged entirely to me—it swayed to the rhythm of the child inside me. When the baby shifted beneath my ribs, pressing outward with an impatient nudge, I stopped mid-step and leaned against the wall. The chill of the stone steadied me, but it also reminded me how cold these walls always felt.“Ma'am Mira?”The familiar voice snapped me back to the present.I turned and found Manang Silva standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She carried a tray with both han
Pregnant By The Billionaire Chapter One Hundred Fourteen
Mira’s P.O.VThe night had settled fully by the time the lamps in the sunroom were lit.Soft amber light spilled across the tiled floor, chasing away the sharpness of the glass walls but not their weight. Outside, the garden was gone to shadow, the roses nothing more than dark shapes swallowed by the night. Only the faint line of the pine trees remained visible, their silhouettes stretching upward like blackened spines.I sat back in the wicker chair, the blanket now draped loosely across my lap. My body ached with the heaviness of the day—the baby pressing insistently beneath my ribs, my ankles swollen, my chest tight with a restlessness I could not shake.Across from me, Luca had not moved much since sitting down. He leaned back, one arm resting over the chair’s edge, posture deceptively casual. But his eyes… they never softened. They followed every shift in me—the way I pressed my hand against my stomach, the way my shoulders sagged under the weight of exhaustion.The silence betwe
Pregnant By The Billionaire Chapter One Hundred Thirteen
Mira’s P.O.VEvening had not fully arrived, yet the air carried the weight of it.The glass walls of the sunroom, so open during daylight, now seemed to thicken with shadow. The roses outside, vivid just an hour ago, had darkened into muted patches of red, their outlines blurring against the creeping dusk. The pine trees looked sharper now, their shapes carved into black against the fading sky, like watchmen who never needed rest.I shifted in the wicker chair, the blanket slipping against my skin. Its fabric was softer than I expected, almost too soft, like something chosen with careful thought. My hands lingered on its edge, rubbing the hem between my fingers, and the smallest pang of unease flickered through me. Was it Ana’s kindness alone, or had Luca instructed it? Nothing in this house seemed untouched by his reach.The baby moved again. Not restless this time—more like a slow, deliberate turn inside me. My breath caught at the sensation, my body yielding to the child’s quiet in
Pregnant By The Billionaire Chapter One Hundred Twelve
Mira’s P.O.VThe hours after Luca left the study passed in fragments, not in whole pieces.I drifted from one room to another, tracing the same polished halls as though the walls themselves might shift if I caught them at the right moment. But they never did. They only stared back, smooth and unyielding, their silence pressing closer with each step.By late afternoon, I found myself in the villa’s sunroom, a space that looked as though it had been designed for someone else entirely. Glass stretched across three walls, tall panes catching the slant of the sun. The light poured in unrestrained, gold at first, then tinged with amber as the day tilted toward evening. Dust clung to the air again, but here it glowed warmer, suspended in the beams like tiny stars.The wicker chair creaked faintly under my weight when I lowered myself onto it. I smoothed the robe across my knees, then rested my hands against the taut swell of my stomach. The baby shifted
Pregnant By The Billionaire Chapter One Hundred Eleven
Mira’s P.O.VMorning had already given way to late sunlight when I found myself sitting near the wide window of the villa’s study. The curtains had been pulled back just enough to let the light in, spilling across the desk in warm sheets of gold. Dust floated lazily in the air, tiny motes glimmering whenever they caught the light, and for a moment I sat still, watching them drift as though they had no weight.I envied them.My own body felt nothing but weight—of the child inside me pressing insistently against my ribs, of the silence pressing into my chest, of the unspoken words I kept swallowing every time Luca entered the room.The scent of polished wood lingered around me, varnish and old leather mixing faintly in the air. The study smelled nothing like the lavender-soaked bedroom or the sterile brightness of the kitchen. Here, the air was heavier, darker. A space built for decisions, for power, not comfort. I wondered if Luca had chosen this place for me to sit today—if even my sm
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