Todos os capítulos de Pregnant By The Billionaire: Capítulo 181 - Capítulo 190

Mira’s P.O.VWhen I opened my eyes, the world was quiet.Too quiet.The last thing I remembered was the sound of gunfire, the taste of rain and blood in the air—and Luca’s voice begging me to stay awake. Now, everything was wrapped in stillness. White walls. The faint scent of antiseptic. A steady beep echoing somewhere near my ear.I blinked hard, realizing I was lying in a hospital bed. My hand instinctively flew to my stomach.The baby.“Please…” I whispered, tears welling instantly.Before panic could fully drown me, a voice spoke softly from the corner. “He’s fine, Mira.”I turned my head slowly—and froze.Cassandra Navarro was sitting beside the window, her arms crossed, a faint bruise darkening her temple. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Her eyes, usually sharp and cold, were softer now.“He’s fine,” she repeated. “Both of you are.”My heart slammed against my rib

Mira’s P.O.VThe storm outside had grown worse.Thunder rolled like distant gunfire while lightning illuminated the compound through the narrow windows. Inside the war room, the air was so heavy with tension that even breathing felt dangerous.Luca stood motionless, staring at the documents Cassandra had thrown on the table. His father’s name—Antonio De Silva—was printed across the top of every page, attached to offshore accounts, coded transactions, and government-linked contracts that made my stomach turn.“This can’t be,” Luca whispered, his voice hoarse. “He died in Milan. I saw the reports. I buried him myself.”Cassandra crossed her arms, unflinching. “You buried what he wanted you to bury. A name. Not a body.”I watched the muscles in Luca’s jaw tighten, the storm inside him barely contained. “You’re saying my father faked his own death to fund the people attacking us?”“Yes,” she said flatly. “And he’s been rebui

Mira’s P.O.VThe world outside was falling apart.Flames devoured the edges of the mansion, turning marble to ash and echoing memories to smoke. The sound of war still throbbed in the distance—shouts, gunfire, the crackling of everything we once knew burning to the ground. But inside the steel walls of the safe room, time had stopped.It was just me, Luca, and the life trying to break free inside me.I clutched his hand so tightly that my nails dug into his skin. The pain came in waves now, deep and relentless, each contraction pulling me closer to the edge. I could barely think beyond the agony, beyond the noise of my own heartbeat.“Luca—” I gasped, tears streaming down my face. “It hurts—please—it hurts so much.”“I know, amore, I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he wiped the sweat from my forehead with his trembling hand. “Breathe with me. Come on, Mira—inhale… exhale.”He was trying to stay calm, but I could see the fear in his eyes. His shirt was soaked with blood and

Mira’s P.O.V The morning after felt unreal. For the first time in what felt like years, there was silence—not the heavy, terrifying kind, but a fragile peace that settled over the ruins like a sigh. The fire had died sometime before dawn, leaving behind gray smoke curling through the broken windows of what used to be the De Silva mansion. I sat on the cold floor of the safe room, wrapped in Luca’s jacket, our baby asleep in my arms. Her tiny breaths were the only rhythm that made sense in all the chaos. Every rise and fall of her chest was a reminder that somehow, against all odds, we survived. Luca was sitting just a few feet away, leaning against the wall. His face was pale, streaked with soot, his arm wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage. He hadn’t said much since we made it through the night. Maybe there weren’t words big enough for what we’d just lived through. I looked at him—really looked—and felt that strange ache in my chest again. Love and pain, relief and fear, all tangle

Mira’s P.O.VIt’s been three weeks since we left the ruins of the De Silva mansion.Three weeks since the world we once knew turned to ashes—and three weeks since I stopped looking back.Now, when I open my eyes, I don’t see fire or gunfire or smoke. I see sunlight slipping through cream curtains, the faint sound of waves crashing outside, and Luca’s steady breathing beside me.We found a small coastal town far south, hidden between cliffs and sea. It’s quiet here—untouched by the chaos of Manila, by the name De Silva. The locals don’t ask questions. They think we’re just another couple trying to start over. And in a way, they’re right.I pulled myself up from the bed carefully, wincing as the soft cries of our daughter filled the small room. “Good morning, sweetheart,” I whispered, lifting her into my arms. Her eyes fluttered open—deep blue, just like her father’s—and she made a tiny noise of protest before settling against my chest.The warmth of her little body against mine still f