Todos los capítulos de Bound to the Billionaire’s Baby: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

The hum of the jet engines was like a lullaby at thirty thousand feet, but Amara couldn’t sleep. The cabin lights were dimmed, and most of the other passengers were either asleep or cocooned in headphones and movies. She stared out the window into the endless dark, Tuscany only hours away. Her hands rested lightly over her abdomen, as if shielding the life growing within.She’d felt the shift days ago—her body slightly off rhythm, like a familiar song played in the wrong key. But now, it was more than intuition. A stabbing cramp twisted through her midsection, sharp enough to make her suck in a breath.Not now.She sat upright, her skin clammy, forehead damp. Another cramp hit—deep, insistent, wrong. A flight attendant noticed her pale face and came over immediately."Are you alright, miss?"Amara tried to speak, but another pang silenced her.The attendant called for help. A nurse traveling from Berlin happened to be on board. Questions came in quick succession: How far along? Any bl

The hospital room had quieted. The nurses dimmed the lights. Nathaniel had stepped out to take a call, and Amara was finally alone—truly alone—for the first time in days.She opened her suitcase and pulled out the brown folder she had tucked between sketchbooks. Her fingers hovered for a second before slipping it open.Inside was a letter. Its creases were worn, corners dog-eared from being read too often. At the top, in her brother’s scrawled handwriting, was the date from nearly three months ago."Amara—if you’re reading this, I probably didn’t tell you enough how proud I am. Not just for what you’re doing... but for why you’re doing it."She blinked, chest tightening. Her thumb ran along the edge of the page."I hate that you're carrying this burden for me. I hate that I can't fix it. But I know you, and I know you won’t stop until you find a way. So I’m just asking—when all this is over, when I’m better or worse... promise me you’ll g

Amara's POVThe morning sun bled through gauzy curtains in shades of honey. Paris was slow-waking, gentle. But Amara's body hummed with unease. There were no sharp cramps, no flashing monitors. Just a quiet intuition—the kind that had always preceded bad news.She sat at the breakfast table in the apartment Nathaniel had rented for her, nursing a warm cup of lemon tea. Her phone buzzed. A message.From Tessa: Call me. Now.Her heart stuttered. Not the usual sarcastic gif. Not a link to a meme. Just urgency.She called immediately. Tessa answered on the first ring."He's in the hospital again," she said. "Your brother."Silence blanketed the line.Amara gripped the edge of the table. "What happened?""He collapsed. Fever, chest tightness, low oxygen. They admitted him last night. He didn't tell you because he didn’t want you stressed."Of course he didn’t. He was always trying to protect her—eve

The bar was tucked into the edge of Montmartre, dimly lit with jazz curling out of its walls like smoke. Liam hadn’t meant to come here, not really. He’d walked for an hour trying to clear his head, ending up in front of a place that looked like something out of a forgotten memory. Inside, it smelled like aged wood and expensive regret.And there she was.Isabelle. Like a ghost who hadn’t gotten the memo that she was dead to him.She sat at the end of the bar in a satin-black dress, her legs crossed, her martini untouched. Her lips curved in that familiar, venom-laced smile."I was starting to think you'd ignore me," she said, voice like velvet wrapped around a dagger.Liam didn’t sit. "What are you doing here?""You think Paris belongs to you alone? Relax. I’m in town for a shoot. Saw your name on a reservation list at Le Vieux Lion. I took a gamble."He looked like he wanted to leave, but something in her eyes stopped

The cold silence that followed Amara’s departure was not something Liam had prepared for. Her absence was a vacuum, pulling all the color out of his days. She hadn’t blocked him—that would have been an action. This was worse. No response. No read receipts. No acknowledgment. Just nothing.He stared at his last message: "I'm sorry. Please talk to me." It had been three days.Nathaniel had been watching Liam unravel in slow motion. He tossed a manila folder onto the coffee table in Liam’s penthouse. “You need to talk. Because she sure as hell isn’t.”Liam barely glanced up. “You talked to her?”“Tessa did. Amara’s not speaking to anyone, really. Said she needed space. You need to start explaining, or I’m filling in blanks myself.”Liam raked a hand through his hair. “It didn’t mean anything.”“God, don’t say that. Not to me. What happened?”He sighed. “It was a mistake. She came to the hotel. She kissed me. I was… weak. Confused. I stopped it. But not before Amara saw.”Nathaniel shook