All Chapters of Marrying The Domineering Billionaire In My Sister’s Place: Chapter 211 - Chapter 220

Sylvester’s POV.The next morning, the sunlight came gently through the curtains, painting the room in a warm, golden calm.I was already awake, watching the way it brushed over her skin. Natasha slept deeply, one hand over her stomach, her hair loose against the pillow. I still found it hard to believe that inside her, a heartbeat had already begun, small, fragile, and half of me.I reached out carefully and traced the curve of her arm with my fingertips. She stirred slightly and opened her eyes, smiling in that soft way that made everything in me settle.“Good morning,” she whispered, voice still husky with sleep.“Morning, my sunshine,” I said quietly. “How are you feeling?”She turned on her side, the sheet falling just enough to reveal the gentle rise of her belly. “Peaceful,” she said. “It’s strange… I can feel the difference now. Like my body knows what it’s protecting.”I smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Then today, we will take care of both of you.”She raised a b

Sylvester’s POV.I was already done packing, preparing for us to start heading back home soon when I walked into the bedroom to see Natasha standing by the window, watching the ocean for the last time. She had her hands resting lightly on her belly, a habit she had developed unconsciously. I walked over and wrapped my arms around her from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder.“Ready?” I asked quietly.She nodded, but her voice came out soft. “I wish we could stay just a little longer.”“Me too,” I said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “But we’ll carry this with us. Every bit of it.”She turned her head slightly, giving me a small smile before whispering, “You always know what to say.”I smiled faintly, though I didn’t tell her that sometimes, I didn’t. Sometimes I only spoke to fill the space between us so she wouldn’t see the thoughts that kept me awake at night — the way fatherhood lingered in the back of my mind like a quiet storm waiting for rain.We packed the last of our thin

Natasha’s POV.Carol and I had spent the morning together, cooking a simple dinner while the sunlight streamed lazily through the windows. She moved around the kitchen with a kind of quiet energy, chopping vegetables, stirring sauces, and humming softly under her breath. I watched her from across the counter, feeling a warmth bloom in my chest at the sight of her relaxed expression. For the first time since she had arrived, she seemed almost at peace.“Natasha,” she said suddenly, glancing up at me with a teasing smile, “you really should have been a chef. This smells amazing.”I laughed lightly, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. “You’re just saying that because you’re starving. Wait until you taste it.”She shook her head, grinning, “I’m serious. I would eat this every day if I could. I think even Sylvester would approve.”I felt my chest tighten at the mention of his name. Even the thought of him made my stomach flutter a little. I glanced at the clock. Any minute now,

Henry’s POVThe morning sunlight streamed faintly through the wide glass window, casting a pale glow across the edge of the room. The air inside the apartment was cool and still, carrying the faint scent of coffee that had long gone cold on the table beside me. I sat quietly, leaning back on the chair, watching the city stretch beneath me. It was peaceful in a way that didn’t sit right in my chest. It felt undeserved.Amara had kept her word. I was safe. I had food, clothes, and a new place to live. The people around here didn’t know who I was, and for once, no one looked at me with suspicion. It should have been enough to start again, yet my mind was restless. I could not rest when I thought about Sylvester. He was still out there, living a life I believed should have been mine. Each passing day without retribution felt like an insult to everything I had lost.I had tried before to destroy him. I had gone after his company, his reputation, his name, but none of that had broken him. He

Sylvester’s POV.Dinner was quiet, the kind of evening that felt familiar. Natasha sat across from me, her hand resting over her stomach while she spoke about the baby’s movements with a small smile that never failed to soften me. The room was warm, the low light falling across the table in a way that made everything feel calm. I answered her questions, listened to her plans for the nursery, and let her laughter settle something steady inside me.After we ate, she went upstairs to rest. I stayed back for a while, clearing the plates and turning off the lights one by one. When the house was silent, I walked into the study to check the CCTV footage from my own personal end.Since Henry escaped and vanished beyond the reach of the police, the habit of checking these feeds had become a part of my nights. It wasn’t paranoia—it was awareness. I knew what he was capable of. Humiliation was something Henry never forgave, and being wanted, being forced to run, would only fuel him further.I