Lahat ng Kabanata ng Bound to the Billionaire’s Baby: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

Late that night, Amara found herself wide awake in her Paris guesthouse. Rain pattered against the window, a soft drumroll that matched the thrum in her chest. She’d spent the afternoon at Max’s bedside—short visits, hushed updates, assurances that he was stable. But her mind kept drifting back to Tessa in custody, Elliot’s restrained presence, and Liam's unwavering support.She reached for her sketchbook, fingers hovering over the blank page. Her pencil pressed in, forming the first delicate line—a heartbeat drawn in charcoal, jagged and anxious.Her phone buzzed:Liam (Paris): Can you meet me at Rue des Martyrs? 10 AM. Need to show you something.Amara’s breath caught. She replied: Yes. Heartbeats later, she fell into a fitful sleep.---Morning arrived damp and soft. Amara met Liam at a quiet café across from the old bookstore on Rue des Martyrs. He wore the same black sweater from the hospital like a talisman.He didn’t speak at first—only slid a small, unmarked envelope across th

The dream came uninvited.It always did.Amara was back in that dark loft apartment, high above Rue Montmartre, draped in shadows and red silk sheets. Candlelight flickered against the exposed brick walls. The scent of bergamot and firewood clung to her skin. And he was there.Sebastian.She felt his presence before she saw him—like a storm rolling in. His voice was a low, velvet thread in the back of her mind, tugging at her spine."You always look better when you’re unsure," he whispered, stepping from behind her, shirt unbuttoned, gaze unrelenting. "Let me help you remember what it means to belong to someone."Her breath caught. Not in fear. Not in anticipation. In something murkier. That cocktail of desire and danger that had always drawn her to him.In the dream, she didn’t resist.His hands gripped her wrists. Bound them behind her back with that black silk tie he always wore like a promise. He kissed her neck, slow and searing, and whispered things that made her knees weaken. H

The sun filtered through the apartment windows, soft and golden. It painted the room in warmth, but Amara couldn’t feel it. She moved through the morning in silence—making tea, opening windows, letting the light in as if that alone would sweep away the weight lodged in her chest.Liam watched her from the doorway. Something in the way she avoided his eyes told him everything he needed to know—she was trying to bury something. He’d seen it before. With clients, with strangers. But this was different. This was her.“Amara,” he said gently, “talk to me.”She looked up, startled. “I am talking.”“No,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re performing.”She exhaled, shoulders slumping. “What do you want me to say?”“That you trust me. That whatever’s chasing you inside your head doesn’t have to stay there.”Amara turned back to the window. “I thought I was over him.”Silence.Liam didn’t ask who.“I thou

Amara stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror of the hospital, fingers gripping the edge of the sink. Her eyes were bloodshot, dark circles blooming like shadows beneath them. She hadn’t slept. Not really. Not since the chapel. Not since the envelope.She splashed water on her face. It did nothing to steady her.The reflection didn’t lie—she was fraying. Bit by bit. She was supposed to be the strong one. The one who could compartmentalize, push through. For Max. For Liam. For the baby.But the truth was that she was barely holding it together.She dried her face and walked back into Max’s room.He was awake.“Hey,” she said softly, managing a smile.“Hey,” he croaked, his voice weak. “You look like you fought a war.”She pulled up a chair beside him. “I think I’m still in one.”He gave a small grin, then winced. “You don’t have to stay here all day, Mara. I’m good. Just tired.”“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”He hesitated. “Liam came earlier.”“I know.”“He told me..

Amara had always known silence could scream. But tonight, it was whispering.The lights were dimmed in Liam’s penthouse. She sat at the kitchen table, mug of mint tea untouched, staring at the window. Not through it—at it. At her reflection. Hair pulled back, dark circles under her eyes, skin paler than usual. Pregnancy fatigue had nothing on emotional fatigue.Her phone buzzed once. Then again.She didn’t want to look.It buzzed a third time.Liam was in the other room talking to the security team, trying to triple-check the apartment’s privacy settings. The last time he let his guard down, someone ended up dead. And Amara almost lost herself.She picked up the phone.Unknown number.Her heart beat faster.The text read: "You can hide in his arms, but you can't outrun what you gave away."Bile rose in her throat.She stared at the words. Then deleted the message. Not out of denial—but