INICIAR SESIÓNAVA MAXWELL’S POV "Two weeks." I stared at the calendar on my iPad, the days marked off with big, red digital Xs. Outside the glass doors of the terrace, the sun was shining, birds were singing, and the world was turning. But inside? Inside, time had stopped. "I have been stuck in this house for two weeks, Helen. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours. I have memorized the pattern of the wallpaper in the hallway. I have reorganized my closet three times—by color, then by season, then by fabric. I have even watched an entire season of a baking show, and you know I don't bake. I hate flour, Helen. It gets everywhere." Helen laughed from the other side of the video call. She was sitting in my office—my office—at the company headquarters, sipping an iced latte that looked painfully refreshing. The background noise of phones ringing and printers humming made my heart ache with jealousy. "You are glowing, though," Helen teased, leaning into the camera. "Rest suits you,
AVA MAXWELL’S POV The morning sun filtered through the heavy, cream-colored silk drapes of the master bedroom, casting a soft, golden haze over the room. I floated in that delicious, heavy space between sleep and wakefulness, my body warm, cocooned in the high-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets. The air in the room was cool, conditioned to perfection, but the distinct, intoxicating scent of sandalwood and musk—his scent—lingered on the pillow beside me, grounding me before I even opened my eyes. I reached out instinctively, my hand seeking the solid warmth of his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart that had become my favorite lullaby. But my fingers met only cool, empty linen. My eyes fluttered open, panic flaring for a millisecond before memory washed over me. We are safe. We are home. We are pregnant. I pushed myself up on my elbows, blinking against the light, my hair tumbling over my shoulders in a messy curtain. "Jerome?" I called out, my voice thick with sleep.
JEROME’S POV The guest room door was locked. I stood outside in the hallway, my forehead pressed against the cold wood, listening to the muffled sounds of Ava crying inside. Every sob was a dagger twisting in my gut. I wanted to break the door down. I wanted to storm in there, hold her, and force her to believe me. But I couldn't. She was pregnant. Stress was dangerous. If I pushed her too hard, I risked hurting the baby. So I stood there, helpless, in the hallway of my own mansion, while my world crumbled on the other side of a piece of wood. "Boss." Adrian’s voice was low, coming from the top of the stairs. I pulled away from the door, my face a mask of cold fury. I walked over to him, keeping my voice hushed. "Tell me you have something," I growled. "Tell me you found out she's a con artist. Tell me the kid is an actor." Adrian looked grim. He held out a tablet. "It's all over the news, Jerome. 'The Billionaire's Secret Son.' The stock dropped 8% in
AVA MAXWELL'S POV. The drive back to the mansion felt like floating on a cloud. Helen was still buzzing with excitement beside me, her chatter filling the silence of the car, but my mind was elsewhere. My hand rested instinctively over my lower stomach, a secret smile tugging at my lips. Two pink lines. It felt surreal. After the pain, the loss, the terror of the last few months, this tiny, fragile hope felt like a miracle. A second chance. “You have to tell him tonight,” Helen insisted, turning in her seat to look at me. “Don’t you dare wait, Ava. If you keep this from him for even a second longer than necessary, I will burst.” I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m not going to keep it from him, Hel. But I can’t just blurt it out over dinner. I want it to be special. This… this changes everything.” “It changes everything,” she agreed, her eyes misty. “He’s going to lose his mind. The man already treats you like fine china. Once he knows you’re carrying his heir? Good luck wa
Ava's PovBy the time we arrived at the mansion, I was more than ready to collapse onto the nearest soft surface. But just as I was about to step out of the car, Jerome turned to me, mischief glinting in his dark eyes.“Go get comfortable,” he murmured, brushing a soft kiss against my lips. “I have a few things to handle with Adrian.”I pouted slightly, but he only smirked before slipping out of the car. As I watched him disappear up the grand staircase with Adrian close behind, I felt a small flutter of anticipation. There was something undeniably attractive about seeing him in his element—commanding, confident, in control.Shaking my head, I made my way upstairs to my room, pushing the door open and stepping inside. The familiar scent of roses greeted me immediately, wrapping around me like a warm embrace.A sigh of contentment escaped me as I flopped onto my bed, sinking into the soft mattress. It felt good to be home.After a moment of just basking in the familiar comfort of my sp
I sighed dramatically but did as he said. As much as I wanted to push for details, I knew Jerome wouldn’t budge. He loved keeping me on my toes.Once we finished breakfast, Jerome insisted on cleaning up while I went to get ready. I showered, letting the warm water wash away any lingering sleepiness before slipping into a sundress. The villa’s coastal breeze was warm and inviting, making me opt for something light and flowy.When I stepped back into the living room, Jerome was already waiting for me. He had changed into a white linen shirt and tailored shorts, looking effortlessly handsome.“Ready?” he asked, offering me his hand.I slid my fingers into his. “Always.”Jerome led me outside, and to my surprise, a sleek convertible was waiting for us.“Wow,” I breathed. “Are we driving there?”He smirked. “Of course. A scenic route before the surprise.”Excitement bubbled in my chest as we got in. With the top down, the wind whipped through my hair as Jerome drove along the coastline. T







