로그인She lost everything—her husband, her home, her best friend. Then fate handed her a billionaire, a child in need, and a second chance. After a brutal betrayal, May Hemlings is left broke, pregnant, and humiliated. But when she saves a child from a car accident, her world collides with billionaire John Bells and his grieving son, Saint. What starts as a nanny job turns into a high-stakes deal: Live with John for one year, play the perfect live-in nanny, and walk away with $50 million. But secrets don’t stay buried. The child in her womb isn’t her ex’s—it’s John’s. And their arrangement ? It's getting dangerously real. Between boardroom wars, jealous exes, and a powerful family that wants her gone, May must decide: walk away with the money… or fight for the unexpected legacy she’s building—love, family, and a future worth staying for.
더 보기They called it “The Trial of the Decade.” Adrian Vale vs. The Truth. The courthouse steps were choked with reporters. Microphones thrust into every corner. Camera shutters blinking like bullets. Protesters held signs scrawled with phrases like “Justice for Lena” and “Mental Health Is Not a Weapon.” May stood beside John in a fitted black suit, baby strapped to her chest, Saint clutching her hand like a lifeline. She didn’t say a word to the reporters. Her silence screamed louder than a thousand interviews. Inside, the courtroom was stacked with the press, elite board members, federal agents, and curious public figures who once worshipped Adrian’s name. Now they waited to see if he’d fall. Adrian walked in with his usual arrogance. But something was different. His swagger had a limp. His smile cracked. His tailored suit, pristine—but his eyes? Nervous. Like a lion finally sensing the trap around its throat. The judge entered. “All rise.” The trial began. John took the stand
It was a rainy afternoon when they found it. The flash drive had been sitting in Lena’s favorite hardcover book — The Unbearable Lightness of Being — tucked between pages marked by a dried iris. May had been reading to the baby when the flower fell out, revealing the tiny silver device taped beneath. Saint, sitting nearby, had whispered, “That was her favorite one. She always said it reminded her of light in a dark room.” They plugged it into the encrypted laptop John had been using for their private investigation. A password prompt appeared. Five chances. John stared at the screen, then at Saint. “Do you remember anything Lena used to say a lot? Maybe something only you would know?” Saint furrowed his brows. “She used to sing to me every night. The same one. ‘You are my sunshine.’” May typed it in. Access granted. The folder opened like a locked coffin finally giving up its ghosts. Inside: • Scanned copies of wire transfers tied to shell companies in Switzerland, the Ca
The next evening.Smith always thought charm could buy him a clean slate. Even now, as he leaned into the camera for yet another podcast interview—hair perfectly styled, voice syrupy smooth—he smirked as if nothing could touch him. “I was misled,” he said, lips curled like a man auditioning for sympathy. “May played everyone. Even me. I mean, who hides a baby from her husband, right?” Across the city, in the Bells penthouse, May watched with quiet fury. The video played on mute. She didn’t need to hear the lies to feel them. Her phone pinged. A message from her lawyer: “Drop goes live in 5 minutes.” “Let him talk,” she murmured. John leaned over the couch, glancing at the paused video. “Last words before the plunge.” Exactly five minutes later, the internet exploded. An anonymous exposé hit every major blog, news site, and YouTube channel. Under the hashtag #TheRealSmith, the post contained: • Screenshots of Smith begging May to let him claim the baby, even after the pater
The following day,The rain had stopped, but the earth was still soft underfoot as May and Saint stepped out of the car. The chapel was tucked behind rows of sycamore trees—quiet, simple, forgotten by the city’s rush. The kind of place people came to when they needed to whisper to God, not parade before Him. May had brought Saint without telling him everything. Not yet. He only knew they were going “somewhere your mom loved.” Saint held her hand tighter than usual, his thumb nervously rubbing her palm. “Did mom come here a lot?” he asked. May nodded. “Every year on your birthday. She lit a candle and whispered something only the heavens heard.” Saint looked up at the chapel’s cross, then back at May. “Did she pray for me?” May crouched down to meet his eyes. “She prayed about you. That much I’m sure of.” Inside the chapel, sunlight filtered through stained glass in splashes of violet and gold. The pews creaked beneath them as they walked, Saint tugging her forward with a stran
May’s POVI didn’t mean to cry.But as I scanned the final journal Lena had left behind, flipping through the jagged loops of handwriting and half-finished thoughts, I felt her slipping through my fingers—again. Something was wrong.There were pages missing.The entries jumped, unnaturally. One day
“Lying about what?” she snapped.May’s voice was clipped. Defensive. The kind of tone that came with sharp edges and past bruises.I studied her for a beat.She was trembling, pale, clearly sick—and still trying to stand her ground like a soldier bleeding through their boots.“Don’t worry,” she add
MAY POVThe following morning, I stumbled downstairs after emptying what felt like my entire digestive system into the toilet.Again.I paused at the foot of the stairs, gripping the bannister like a war widow.“Urghhh,” I muttered, clutching my stomach. “This child of mine is hell-bent on frustrat
May’s POVLater that evening, John sent me his home address and told me to resume with immediate effect.Hmmph, such a rude man.I boarded a taxi with my last $20. The car pulled up to the Bells estate just after sunset. The sky was blushing pink, like even the clouds were embarrassed by how absur






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