All Chapters of Apologies, Mr Playboy. I’m Pregnant.: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Camille's fingers tightened around the bouquet, his words cutting through her like a knife— cold, cruel, and sharp.‘Cheap.’ That's what he thought of her. Was that truly how he saw her?She looked at the flowers again, then turned away from him and walked slowly back to her desk. Her chest ached as she sat down, placing the flowers on the table without care. Her mood dimmed.Pierce watched her in silence, his words echoing in his head, and something in him shifted. He regretted it. He really did. He saw how her smile disappeared, how her whole body sank into herself. But instead of saying sorry, he did what he always did—swallowed it down and deflected."I need another cup of coffee," he said.Camille didn't say a word. She stood, walked to the machine, and brewed his coffee. But this time, when she placed it on his desk, she did it with a force that it nearly sloshed over the rim.Pierce blinked, startled for a second. He could tell she was angry at him. But still, he refused to say

Camille unbuckled her seatbelt slowly as Alex parked the car in front of the mansion. Her hand hovered over the door handle for a moment before she turned to Alex. "Thank you... for today."Alex smiled warmly, his fingers still resting on the steering wheel. "Happy to," he replied, his voice gentle. "I'm glad you had a good time.""I did." Camille forced a small smile. "It was... thoughtful. All of it."But even as she said the words, her heart felt strange. Tight in a way that wasn't comfort. It wasn't regret, either. Just... something else. Something she couldn't name.Alex tilted his head slightly, studying her face. "You okay?"Camille blinked. "Yes. Yeah, I'm fine." She looked away, her hand already reaching for the door handle again. "Thanks again, Alex. Have a good night.""You too, Camille."She stepped out of the car, closing the door gently behind her. She didn't watch him drive away. Not immediately.Instead, she stood there in the quiet of the estate driveway, her arms wra

Camille sat still in her room, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts—one of which included Pierce Landon. She couldn't help but wonder what must have gone wrong in the Landon family that Pierce turned out to be so despicable.She wasn't making excuses for him. She just knew there had to be a reason why Pierce behaved the way he did. She was sure of it, and she had to find out—if only to understand him, even just a little.She stood up and left her room. She didn't think the house could get any quieter than it already was, but today proved her wrong.It was a Saturday. She had no idea if Pierce was around, but she knew the General wasn't. He had left yesterday on some big country business, taking almost half of the guards with him.Dragging herself downstairs, Camille made her way to the kitchen. The scent of ginger filled the air, mingling with the faint echo of chopping.Mrs. Harriet, the estate cook, stood by the sink washing herbs."You're not supposed to be in here," Mrs. Harri

The air was soft and scented with jasmine in the Owens' garden, but Camille barely noticed it. Inside the sunroom, she sat cross-legged on the carpet, her back against the couch, her hands sorting through a pile of folded baby clothes.Joyce was beside her on the rug, sipping from a teacup, her freshly healed body still adjusting after her hospital discharge. Her short, springy curls bounced slightly as she leaned in closer."Wait—wait, go back," Joyce said, eyes wide with curiosity. "You said he smiled?"Camille nodded, brushing a tiny onesie with her fingers. "Yes. Like... not a smirk or his usual mocking look. A real smile. It was small, but it was there. I saw it, Joyce. And I felt something shift. Like... for the first time, I wasn't the enemy to him."Joyce took a slow sip of her tea, completely invested. "And then what? What did he do?"Camille sighed. "That's the part that's puzzling. I thought I was breaking through. But then... he just—walked off. Back into his room. Closed

Pierce Landon sat in a glass-walled conference room in Zurich, Switzerland, surrounded by unfamiliar voices, glowing screens, and endless chatter about software modules and projected growth."What am I doing here?" he asked himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration.This was the kind of meeting he could've skipped—or handed off to one of Lumina's regional managers. But for the past month, these meetings had become his excuse. His escape.From Ventria.From her.From Camille.He hadn't gone back. Not after the kiss. Not after the way her eyes softened in that moment, or the way her hand lingered on his cheek like she wasn't afraid of the monster in him.And that terrified him.She didn't see danger. She saw hope. She offered peace—he wasn't ready for that.So, he left.At dawn. Without a note, without a word. He told himself she was better off not waking up beside him. That the kiss didn't matter. That it never should've happened.And yet, here he was—thousands of miles a