Semua Bab Contract Marriage with the Disabled Billionaire : Bab 91 - Bab 100

Isadora’s POVI hadn’t thought much about my own mother in years.She’d disappeared long before I ever realized she was gone.She lived in the same house, cooked the meals, folded the laundry, but she’d been absent in all the places that mattered. I remember her brushing my hair with distracted hands, her eyes always somewhere else. I don’t remember her ever saying she was proud of me. Or asking me if I was happy. Or noticing when I was quietly falling apart.That kind of absence taught me how to disappear, too.Taught me how to pretend I didn’t need affection. Taught me how to stay silent even when my world was screaming.But this child inside me?They would never have to learn that language.They would grow up knowing they were seen.Heard.Chosen.I spent the morning alone, writing again.The air was still cool, the windows fogged just enough to blur the garden beyond them. Darren had gone into town for a meeting with Alex. I’d stayed behind, needing a few hours with my own thought

Isadora’s POVThe first time I saw my reflection with the hint of a real bump, I froze.Not because I didn’t expect it.Not because I didn’t want it.But because something about seeing it — really seeing it — made it real in a way I hadn’t prepared for.My body had always felt like a thing to manage. Something to tuck in, smooth over, hide. I’d spent most of my adult life shrinking. Fitting myself into dresses that pleased others. Speaking in tones that wouldn’t rattle anyone.But this?This growing curve beneath my hand?It wasn’t for anyone else.It was for me.And for them.I stood in the mirror with Darren’s robe tied loosely around my waist, hair still damp from the shower, and pressed my palm flat against the roundness just beginning to bloom.It wasn’t large.But it was there.Proof of life.Proof of change.Proof of something moving forward, no matter how uncertain the world around us might be.I wore a long cream dress that morning — soft cotton, fitted under the bust, loose

Isadora’s POVI was folding laundry in the bedroom when it happened.A flutter.So light I almost dismissed it as nothing.Like the brush of butterfly wings deep in my belly.I froze, hands still gripping a folded towel, breath caught in my throat.There it was again—just a whisper of movement, low and soft, like a tiny ripple under still water.My knees buckled slightly, and I sank onto the bed, pressing both hands over the bump that was now distinctly real.“Is that you?” I whispered aloud, too afraid to move.I waited. Held my breath.Then felt it again—gentle, subtle, a tap from the inside.I laughed. Then cried.There wasn’t a better reaction. There wasn’t any reaction that made sense. It was all of it. All at once.It wasn’t just that I felt the baby move.It was that—for the first time—I realized there really was a baby.Not an idea.Not a dream.Not an appointment on the calendar or a word passed between people.A person.Inside me.Growing.Alive.When Darren came into the ro

Isadora’s POVThere were moments now—sudden and unexpected—where I’d catch my reflection and not recognize the woman in the mirror.Not because I looked different, though I did. My cheeks were fuller, my waist curved gently outward in a way that made me touch it absentmindedly throughout the day, as if I needed to reassure myself the changes were still happening.But it was more than the shift in my body.It was the softness I saw in my expression. The way I stood taller. The way I no longer avoided my own gaze.It was like discovering a stranger I’d secretly hoped I’d grow into one day.Someone real.Someone whole.Someone no longer haunted by the idea of not being enough.That morning, the house was quiet. Darren had stepped out early, leaving a note on my bedside table with a hand-drawn smiley face and a simple message: Back soon. Let the baby choose breakfast.I smiled, touched the paper with my fingertips, and slipped it into the drawer beside the bed. Not because I was sentiment

Isadora’s POVI woke before the sun.The house was still wrapped in that strange, hushed quiet that only comes just before morning—when the walls still feel like they’re dreaming, and every creak under your feet feels like a secret.I lay there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling fan as it moved slowly overhead. Darren’s arm was draped across my belly, warm and heavy. He was still sound asleep, breathing deeply, his face relaxed in the early light.The baby had already started moving.Small, persistent kicks near my ribs, like they were trying to remind me they were ready—even if I wasn’t.I smiled, running a hand gently over the swell of my stomach. "Good morning, little one," I whispered.My feet found the floor before I even thought about it. I didn’t want to wake him. He’d been staying up late lately, making secret trips to the garage, fiddling with something he refused to tell me about.“It’s not time yet,” he always said with that teasing smirk.I padded down the hall to the