All Chapters of Pregnant By The Billionaire: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Mira’s P.O.V The stairs creaked faintly beneath my feet as I climbed, each step deliberate, each breath measured. The air in the hallway was cooler than the dining room, carrying the faint scent of polished wood and something sharper, almost metallic. I told myself it was only my imagination, but the unease coiled tighter around my ribs the higher I went. I reached the landing and paused. The corridor stretched ahead—dim, lined with closed doors, sconces casting weak amber pools of light onto the floor. Shadows pooled in the spaces between, too deep, too quiet. My throat felt dry. Behind me, the house shifted. A clock chimed softly somewhere below, the echo lacing itself into the silence. I half-expected Luca to appear again, to follow me up with that same quiet suspicion burning in his eyes. But the stairwell remained empty. I made myself keep walking. My steps sank into the thick carpet, muffling the sound, but still I felt loud—as if every movement announced itself to the walls

Mira’s P.O.V The morning crept in before I realized I had even closed my eyes. I woke to a faint, pale light filtering through the curtains, the kind of light that carried no warmth—just a reminder that time was moving, whether I was ready or not. For a moment, I stayed still, curled beneath the sheets, listening. The house had a pulse of its own; I could hear it if I was quiet enough—the faint hum of pipes, the distant shuffle of footsteps in the lower halls, the metallic click of the gates being locked or unlocked. Everything here was deliberate, orchestrated. I pressed my palm against my chest, feeling the rhythm of my heart. Still too fast. Still uneasy. When I finally slid out of bed, the floor was cold against my bare feet, grounding me. I walked to the window, parting the curtains slightly. Outside, the grounds were immaculate, trimmed and watched over by guards that moved like shadows. Even from this distance, I fel

Mira's P.O.V The storm had not eased by morning. Rain clung to the windows like a second skin, blurring the view of the gardens until the world outside looked distorted, unreachable. The sky was a dull weight, heavy with unspent thunder. I stood at the edge of the bed, hands pressed lightly to my stomach. The baby shifted faintly, a small reminder that life continued inside me despite the dread threading through my veins. I whispered to the silence, “I’ll keep you safe. Somehow.” My own voice sounded foreign, hushed against the hollow quiet of the room. The door creaked, and I nearly flinched. Luca entered without a word, his presence filling the room as though the storm itself had followed him in. He was already dressed, dark shirt buttoned high, jacket draped neatly across his shoulders. Not a hair out of place. As if the night had not touched him. “You didn’t come down for breakfast.” His tone was even, bu

Mira’s P.O.V The silence after the call was louder than I expected. Denise’s voice still lingered in my ears, threaded with warmth, the kind of warmth I hadn’t felt in months. I sat there for a long time, clutching the phone against my chest, listening to the faint hum of the mansion’s electricity, the low sigh of the wind pressing against the windows. My stomach shifted beneath my hand, the baby’s movements insistent, almost restless—as though echoing my own emotions. I whispered, more to myself than anyone, “She’s still here. I’m not completely lost.” But the house didn’t echo back. It never did. I forced myself to stand, sliding the phone into the folds of my robe before moving across the room. The wooden floor was cool beneath my bare feet, and I felt every creak as though the house itself were listening. The curtains swayed faintly from the open window, carrying in the faint smell of wet stone and soil.

Mira’s P.O.VThe villa was quiet in a way that unsettled me.It wasn’t the silence of emptiness—it was the silence of something curated, arranged, like every sound had been tucked away carefully so nothing broke the illusion. The moment I crossed the threshold, the air shifted: warmer than the damp morning outside, faintly perfumed with something floral, like dried lavender mixed with polished wood.My slippers sank against the rug at the entrance, thick and soft, muffling the sound of my steps. The walls were painted pale cream, and light fell through the tall windows in muted ribbons, catching the gold outlines of frames and sconces. Nothing extravagant like the mansion, but precise. Controlled.Luca’s shadow followed me in. I didn’t have to look back—I felt him. The quiet drag of his shoes against the floor, the faint edge of his cologne threading into the lavender.“What do you think?” His voice broke the stillness, smooth but deliber