All Chapters of Pregnant By The Billionaire: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

Mira's P.O.VI didn’t realize I was holding my breath until Luca stopped in front of me. The black envelope in his hand seemed to drain the air from the room. Something about it felt wrong—not just threatening, but personal. Violating. Like someone had managed to reach inside our world just to remind us that peace was temporary.Luca didn’t open it immediately. He stood there, studying it with a stare so sharp it could cut through steel. His jaw ticked, the muscle there tightening as he turned the envelope over between his fingers.“Did security see who delivered this?” he asked quietly.“Yes, sir,” a voice answered from outside the still-open door. “It was left by a delivery rider. No name. No return address. Helmet stayed on the entire time—looked intentional. We’re checking CCTV.”“Find him,” Luca said, voice low but lethal. “And bring him to me.”The door closed again. Silence settled between us.My gaze lingered on the envelope. My name wasn’t just written on it—it was carved. Re

Mira's P.O.VThe rest of the day moved like a storm without rain—quiet, but violent underneath. No one spoke unless necessary. Every hallway in the mansion felt like it was holding its breath.Luca went into full control mode—sharp, relentless, unreadable. Extra security was deployed around the perimeter. All staff were screened again. Motion sensors were recalibrated. Every exit was monitored.I stayed close, watching, absorbing. Because that envelope didn’t just deliver a threat—it delivered a message.They were watching us.And they wanted us to know.Night fell before I realized I hadn’t eaten anything all day. The fireplace in the study crackled behind me as I sat at the table with documents spread before me and a headache building behind my eyes.Newspapers. Old reports. Archived articles. Every mention of Cassandra Navarro—her charity work, her businesses, her disappearance.Disappearance. Not murder. Not death.The world still believed she was missing.I flipped another page.

Mira's P.O.V The sun rose on the day we stopped hiding like a promise—and for the first time in a long time, it felt like we meant it. I woke to the sound of voices moving through the house: low, efficient, men and women coordinating like a single organism. The penthouse hummed with quiet purpose. Luca had already been awake for hours—he always was on days when decisions mattered. I dressed without thinking, fingers steady as they pulled on the clothes I had prepared the night before. There was a strange calm in the ordinary things: the click of my heels on marble, the zipper of my bag, the steam of coffee poured into a cup. Small acts that tethered me to the present while the rest of the world threatened to pull me under. He found me in the study, leaning over the map he had spread across the desk. He looked at home there—commanding the room with the ease of someone who had built his life on order and control. His suit was dark, sleeves rolled, tie loosened. There was a tenacity in

Mira's P.O.VThe rain hadn’t stopped.It was as if the sky refused to move on from what had been said that night.I couldn’t sleep. Not after what Caroline dropped like a bomb between us. Her words kept replaying in my head, twisting and looping until I could barely tell which parts were lies and which parts were truth.Cassandra Navarro never died.That sentence alone felt like a curse that refused to fade.Luca stood by the window again, same as always, but this time his silence wasn’t strength—it was distance. His back was rigid, his hands buried in his pockets, his eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the storm.“Luca,” I said quietly, my voice barely reaching him. “Talk to me.”He didn’t move at first, didn’t even blink. Then, slowly, he exhaled, long and controlled. “There’s nothing to talk about.”“That’s not true.” I took a step closer, the cold floor biting through my bare feet. “Caroline said things that don’t make sense. You know something, don’t you?”His jaw tightened. “She’s

Mira’s P.O.V The world outside the safe room had gone still. Too still. For a moment, I wondered if I had gone deaf—or if the storm had swallowed every sound whole. The silence pressed against my ears, heavy, unnatural. My pulse became the only noise I could hear. “Manang,” I whispered, but she didn’t answer. She was frozen near the door, clutching the rosary that dangled between her trembling fingers. “Stay here, Señorita,” she murmured again, voice breaking. “Don’t make a sound.” But I couldn’t just stay still. Not when Luca was out there. Not when Cassandra Navarro—the woman who was supposed to be dead—was standing in front of him like some ghost come to collect what she was owed. I turned back to the screen, watching every flicker of movement. The rain blurred the camera lens, but even through the static, I could see the tension—the way Luca’s shoulders squared, the way his gun lowered ever so slightly, as if he were seeing something impossible. Cassandra took a step close