Semua Bab One Night Stand With Mr.. President: Bab 91 - Bab 100

Emilia’s POVI blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. My eyes felt like sandpaper. I rubbed them with both hands, groaning quietly at how heavy they still felt. No use trying to go back to sleep, I was already too awake for that.With another sigh, I swung my legs off the bed and stood up slowly, hands automatically moving to support my lower back. The ache had become familiar now. Persistent but manageable. I shuffled toward the mirror, dragging my fuzzy slippers across the polished floor like some grumpy old woman.Once I stood in front of the mirror, I tilted my head to the side dramatically, studying the reflection that looked back at me with just the right amount of sarcasm.“Wow,” I muttered, raising my brows. “You’re really thriving, huh?”My hair looked like it had hosted a war and lost. My nose had decided to double in size for no good reason, my eyes were puffy, and the dark circles underneath them could've passed for b

Emilia’s POVThere was a moment of silence before I cleared my throat gently, standing from Richard’s chair and adjusting my blazer. The room turned their attention toward me like dominos. Every single pair of eyes locked onto me, including the three blank-faced statues from across the table.Time to make magic.“I think it’s safe to say,” I began, my voice clear and relaxed, “that if we keep speaking in corporate tongue for the next twenty minutes, we’re all going to either fall asleep or start faking emergencies to escape.”A few chuckles echoed softly from the far end of the room. Not bad. A good start. I flicked my eyes toward one of the Chinese clients, his expression didn’t change. Not even a twitch in his cheek.Tough crowd.“So let’s cut the crap,” I added, smiling sweetly. “You already have the proposal in front of you. You know the numbers. You know the reach. You know our track record. If you didn’t like us, you wouldn’t be sitting here pretending to be statues.”One of the

EmiliaThere are moments in life when time doesn’t just slow down, it freezes. This was one of them.I stood there, just inside the front door, the handle still gripped in my hand, staring at my husband and the woman beside him. He hadn’t even looked up. Neither had she. They were so wrapped up in each other’s conversation, in whatever moment they were sharing, that my existence might as well have been a gust of wind passing through the hallway.Now, most women, normal women, would flip a table, throw a vase, raise hell. But I wasn’t raised to be basic. I wasn’t just a wife. I was Emilia.And if there’s one thing I knew how to do, better than anyone else, it was keep my head high and my crown on straight.So, I let the door close softly behind me. I gave myself a second to inhale, then pasted on the most dazzling, painfully perfect smile I could summon. The kind of smile that looked beautiful in photos but held venom underneath.My heels clicked loudly against the hardwood floor as I

EmiliaI turned slowly from the door to look at Richard. He wasn’t even trying to pretend. His eyes darted away the moment our gazes met.“You’re kidding me,” I said quietly, but my voice shook with disbelief.Richard shifted his weight to the other foot and shoved his hands into his pockets. “What?”I stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “You didn’t think to mention that your mother was coming over?”His jaw tensed. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”“A big deal?” I repeated, my voice rising. “Richard, you know exactly how I feel about your mother, and how she feels about me.”He raised a brow like I was being dramatic. “She’s still my mum, Emilia.”“And I’m your wife, Richard. For crying out loud!” I took a step closer, not caring that I was raising my voice now. “I live here. This is my home too. You don't get to bring people in, her of all people, without telling me first!”He exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing. “You’re overreacting.”“I’m, what?” I laughed bitterly. “No, you

EmiliaThe table had gone oddly quiet again. Not in a tense way, just the kind of silence that falls over a group when everyone’s too focused on their food and wine to keep up small talk. Forks clicked against plates, and glassware clinked softly every now and then.Mia broke the silence. Her voice was light and warm, casual in tone, but her words still caught the attention of everyone around.“So… Emilia,” she said, turning her head toward me, “how far along are you now?”All eyes shifted. My fork paused mid-air.“Three months,” I replied, offering her a small smile. “Just getting into the second trimester.”Mia’s face lit up. “You’re glowing, honestly. I swear, pregnant women always have that light around them. It’s real.”I chuckled. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just the lighting in this overly fancy dining room.”A few laughs circled the table. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught Richard leaning slightly toward Serena, cupping his hand to whisper something in her ear. Whateve