Semua Bab The Billionaire’s Unexpected Love: Bab 31 - Bab 40

May POV“Is everything alright?”My voice was a whisper. “Yeah. Just needed some air.”He studied me for a long moment, eyes narrowing slightly. His gaze skimmed from my flushed cheeks to my trembling hand.He didn’t believe me.But he didn’t press, either.Wordlessly, he opened the passenger door. I climbed in.Inside the car, the silence was thick. Saint was already curled up in his car seat, breathing softly, his sketchpad on his lap.I stared out the window as the city lights blurred past.John finally spoke, voice low. “You don’t have to lie to me.”“I’m not.”He didn’t argue.But he didn’t believe it, either.He leaned back, arms folded, the weight of his presence filling the space beside me.For a heartbeat, I felt something shift—like he might say more. Like he wanted to ask what I was hiding. But instead, he stayed quiet.And that silence… it wasn’t awkward.It was watching me. Like it knew I was breaking apart and was just waiting for me to say it out loud.I didn’t.Couldn’

May POVTick-tock. The baby clock’s ticking.My breath caught in my throat.No name. No signature. No need for one.Smith.He knew where I lived.I folded the paper with trembling fingers and walked back inside, locking the door behind me.Then I turned off the lights and leaned against the wall, listening to the silence.The next morning, I went through the motions. I packed Saint’s lunch. Brushed his hair. Smiled at the right moments.But my eyes kept flicking to the mailbox.And every time John looked at me, I felt like I was seconds away from shattering.The clock was ticking.And the lie I’d wrapped around myself like armor was beginning to crack.One breath. One step. One thread at a time.The sun bled through the high windows like a secret trying to spill. Warm and golden, yet unable to chase away the cold knot in my stomach.I was on autopilot that morning — folding Saint’s laundry, stirring oatmeal, responding to his drawings with half-hearted smiles. He didn’t write much in

May POV Yes,” I said, barely a whisper. “How?” I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because the how was too ugly. Too layered. Too full of memories I hadn’t even unpacked in my own head. I wasn’t ready to say that the man who once swore to love me now threatened to expose me — destroy me — simply for leaving. So I kept my mouth shut. And John took it for defiance. He stepped back. “This isn’t going to work if you keep treating me like the enemy.” “I don’t,” I said. “You don’t treat me like a friend either.” That stung. Because it was true. Later that evening, I sat in Saint’s room while he built Lego castles on the floor. He didn’t ask more questions, didn’t press. But every few minutes, he looked up at me — just to check if I was still there. And I realized then that I had someone worth telling the truth for. Even if I wasn’t ready yet… he deserved more. But John? John was slipping further away with every passing silence. I could feel the gap growing between us. Not just

Smith’s words still hung in the air like smoke. I gripped the sonogram in my fist, fingers curling so tightly the paper creased. The room felt colder, sharper. Every breath I took scraped against my ribs. “You’re sick,” I said quietly. “Following me. Lying to nurses. Watching me.” Smith only smiled. That same old snake-smile—like this was just a game, and I was his favorite pawn. “I’m practical,” he said. “And I’m not the only one watching you.” I tensed. He gestured vaguely toward the window, toward the walls—as if they had ears. “You think I’m the threat. I’m just the reminder.” “Of what?” “That this ends how I say it ends.” I laughed. A hollow, angry sound. “You’ve lost your damn mind if you think you’re still in control.” Smith took a step closer. “And you’ve lost touch with reality if you think you can keep lying to him and not face consequences. You think you can hide a baby from John Bells? From the man who tracks stock shifts before breakfast?” I stiffened. My th

May’s POV It was clear Claudia intended to stay longer than whatever lie she told herself when she rang the mansion’s doorbell. She was already seated at the breakfast table when I entered the sun-drenched kitchen, her fingers wrapped delicately around a porcelain teacup like she’d always belonged. The staff—kind, polite, unaware—treated her like a long-lost aunt, and Claudia, ever the master performer, played the role to perfection. “Good morning, darling,” she said, her smile too sharp to be genuine. I gave a tight nod, my eyes briefly locking with Saint’s across the table. He sat in his usual spot, fork in hand, his cereal barely touched. He leaned closer when I sat beside him and wrote, “She’s… weird.” I blinked. “Weird how?” This is the second time you are saying this, are you uncomfortable with her here? Saint glanced at Claudia, then back at me and wrote. “No, I’m not uncomfortable it’s just that She keeps staring at me when she thinks I’m not looking. Like she’s