All Chapters of Regretful Heart: CEO's Tears Over Her Pregnancy: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

Vienna’s POVRaphaël drove like an absolute maniac.The motorbike weaved through traffic like it had a vendetta against every rule of the road. I clung to him for dear life, my arms wrapped tightly around his waist, my helmet pressing against his back.Was this his idea of revenge? Payback for not calling out Chloé? Because if so, this felt a little extreme.I clenched my eyes shut as we shot between two cars, the wind whipping at my jacket. "I’m too young to die," I muttered into the helmet.After what felt like an eternity—and possibly a few lost years of my life expectancy—we finally slowed down. The bike came to a stop at the edge of a quiet cobbled street. I cautiously opened one eye, then the other. To my surprise, we were parked in front of La Praline Célestine.The bakery.The shutters were down, the golden lettering glowing softly under a nearby streetlamp. I blinked. "Wait… what? I thought you were taking me to an apartment."Raphaël pulled off his helmet, his curls springin

Vienna’s POV"Are you kidding me?!"Zanele’s voice practically exploded through the phone, making me wince and pull it away from my ear."You’re now working AND living with the hottest professor in Le Cordon Bleu history?"I rolled my eyes and flopped backward onto the soft duvet. "Zee, it’s not like that," I said firmly. "I told you, I’m over men. I can’t handle any more head-over-heels romances, or whirlwind marriages, or fairytale—""Whoa, whoa, whoa," she cut in. "Who said anything about romance or marriage? I’m just talking about a little fun."I groaned. "Fun gets confusing real quick, in my experience. Especially when the ‘fun’ in question is our professor.""Oh, please. The man is like a walking lava cake. If I were you, I’d be in his sheets right now, learning practical skills."I laughed despite myself. "Of course you would."Zanele clicked her tongue like a disappointed auntie. "Vienna, I’m saying this with love. You need a little fire. You need to let loose. Lean into it."

Desiree’s POVEverything in the boutique looked vaguely boho or painfully minimalist—neither of which screamed me. I stepped back outside after a while, expecting to see Warren waiting dutifully. Maybe checking his phone or people-watching in that broody way he did. But the sidewalk was empty.I scanned the street, confused. Seriously?He’d practically begged me to come shopping, and now he’d vanished? Again?I started pacing the sidewalk, annoyance simmering just under the surface. What is wrong with him? This whole trip had felt off. I’d imagined it would be the perfect opportunity—Paris, us, a little nostalgia, a little magic… Instead, he’d been distracted, grumpy, closed off. And now? Gone. Just gone.I was about to text him when I caught a glimpse of him across the street. He was talking to a woman.Something in the curve of her shoulders, the color of her hair, made my breath catch in my throat.No.It couldn’t be.I crossed the street without thinking, my heels clicking hard a

Vienna’s POV"W–what?" I nearly choked on my tea, completely thrown off guard. My heart thudded. "You’ve got some nerve," I added, trying to keep my voice steady.He smirked now. "Listen… if it helps, I have a strict no-kissing-the-roommate policy. It's terrible for the rent dynamic."I scoffed. "That’s a policy?""Very official," he said with mock sincerity. "Even printed it out once. Big bold letters. Fridge-worthy."Despite myself, I laughed. Just a little. Then crossed my arms. "Good. Because I have a no-falling-for-egotistical-chocolatiers policy.""Excellent," he said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the hallway with a theatrical bow. "Glad we’re on the same page. Now go enjoy your... totally real dinner plans."I rolled my eyes and started walking away."Vienna?" he called after me.I turned halfway."If you change your mind, there’s an extra bowl with your name on it."I didn’t answer, just gave him a slight nod and closed my door behind me.As it clicked shut, I leaned aga

Warren’s POVDesiree dragged me through the oversized doors of the dance hall. A heavy bass pulsed inside. I still couldn’t believe I’d let her talk me into this.After Paris, I’d given up hope of finding Vienna. Honestly… I wasn’t even sure what the point was anymore. What could I say if I did find her? She’d probably take one look at me and walk away.Desiree had barely spoken to me for weeks after we got back. She’d been cold, sharp-edged. Still furious I’d dragged her to France under false pretenses. I’d apologized, more than once. But nothing seemed to thaw her. Instead, she let me keep trying, taking advantage of my willingness to do anything to make it right.So when she asked—no, told—me last week that I was coming to a Halloween party with her, I hadn’t even pretended I had a choice.Now here we were. Desiree was dressed in a tight latex Catwoman suit, complete with black ears, a sleek tail, and a whip hanging from her hip. And me? I was Wolverine. Extendable claws and all.