The Billionaire's Baby Maker (ENGLISH VERSION)

ONE

“I heard Gab got arrested,” Jasrylle said just as I was taking a sip of water.

I froze mid-drink, sighed heavily, and shrugged. “Really?” was all I managed to say.

“Serves him right. That bastard. Even calling him a monster feels too kind. He left you when you needed him most, didn’t even help when your child got sick. If only he had helped, maybe…”

She stopped mid-sentence when I let out another deep sigh. Realizing she’d gone too far, she shut her mouth and fake-coughed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up again. It just pisses me off, you know? That jerk deserves to rot in jail. He’s heartless. And spineless too,” she added, still fuming.

I stayed quiet. I wanted to curse him too—but I’d done enough of that every night, whispering my hatred to the dark because of what he did to my ch—my child.

I was only twenty when I got pregnant with my ex-boyfriend, Gab. I still don’t know if I was just naive back then or born a fool for falling for a man like him. He came from a rich family, but he was useless among them—didn’t finish college, didn’t have a job. So when I told him I was pregnant, he refused to take responsibility and told me to get rid of the baby.

I may have been poor, but I wasn’t heartless. I could never do what he was asking. So even without a single peso of support from him—despite his constant pressure to abort—I kept my baby. And when my son was born healthy, I thought everything would finally be okay.

I thought I could raise him on my own. I thought hard work would be enough. I thought wrong.

I took another sip of water, set the glass on the table, and looked at Jasrylle sitting beside me on a monobloc chair. “Have you found any side gigs yet?” I asked.

Her quick shake of the head made me frown. Of course not.

She sighed and looked at me. “You sure you don’t want to work at our bar? You’d just be dancing, not doing anything indecent. There’s a difference. Besides, even after having a baby, your body’s still great. You’re still sexy, Lyana. Don’t you want to give it a try?”

“I don’t want to do that kind of job, Jasrylle,” I said firmly.

“Sometimes you need to swallow your pride, Lyana. I earn seven thousand pesos a day! Don’t you want to make that much too? You know you have to work double for your brother. Or do you want everything to fall apart again like before?”

I lowered my gaze, unable to argue. She was right—I needed the money. But still…

“I—I don’t know how to dance,” I murmured.

Jasrylle sighed loudly, then stood up. My eyes widened when I saw what she was wearing. I could never dress like that. Her tube top barely covered her chest, and her shorts were so short that one wrong move would expose everything. The only saving grace was her long hair, covering just enough.

“Look, Lyana,” she said, rolling her hips playfully. “It’s just a little swaying here and there. You don’t have to go wild, just look sexy and keep their attention. And come on, it’s not like anyone’s gonna touch you. Unless you want them to—”

“Jasrylle,” I cut her off sharply.

She rolled her eyes and playfully smacked my shoulder. I just shook my head. People might think I’m reckless just because I got pregnant young and the father ran off, but I’m not that kind of woman. I was just stupid once. Truth is, I’ve always been conservative.

He was my first, and I swore he’d be my last. I have no intention of loving anyone else. Once was enough. I thought Gab was different.. but he wasn’t. Men are all the same. Liars. I’ve been hurt enough, and I’m not about to gamble again for something as cruel as love.

“Just think about Thirdy,,” Jasrylle said softly. “He needs his medicine, right? Don’t let your pride get in the way. What if he ends up like… like…”

She coughed and averted her gaze, stopping herself before saying the name.

Waylen. My son who died.

He’s been gone for two years now—taken by dengue. I thought I could protect him, that we’d build a simple, happy life together. But life had other plans. Three years have passed, yet the pain still feels fresh, like he left only yesterday. I don’t think it will ever fade.

If only I had money.

If only I’d been a better mother.

If only I could’ve gotten him treated sooner.

Maybe… maybe he’d still be here.

“Think about Thirdy, Lyana,” Jasrylle pressed on. “What good is your pride if you both end up starving, if you can’t even buy his medicine? Remember—he’s all you have left. Are you really going to lose him too because of your pride?”

I let out a long sigh. She wasn’t wrong.

“It’s just dancing, girl,” she said, smiling. “And don’t worry, I’ll be there with you. I won’t let you do it alone. You’re my sizmars, after all.”

I met her gaze and took a deep breath. “Fine. Teach me how to dance first before you bring me to that job. You know I need the money,” I finally said in surrender.

She grinned and clapped her hands. “That’s my girl! You’re still young—you can do this. Forget that jerk Gab. Move on! And who knows…” She smirked, eyes glinting mischievously.

“Know what?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe you’ll meet a rich guy who’ll fall for you. Wouldn’t that be nice? You’d have a better life—”

“I’m done with that, Jasrylle,” I cut in before she could finish. I looked away. “I’ve learned my lesson. I’m not doing that again.”

She sighed and patted my shoulder gently. “You sure? Okay, fine. No more love, I get it. But don’t you want another chance at family? A second child, maybe? Just because the first one failed doesn’t mean the next will too. Who knows, maybe a new family is still waiting for you. You just have to try again.”