All Chapters of Pregnant By The Billionaire: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Mira’s P.O.V. The feather on the monitor didn’t move. It just lay there, perfectly still, as though it had been placed by an invisible hand that knew exactly where the camera’s gaze would fall. My skin prickled. Not because of what I was seeing... but because of what I couldn’t see. “She’s in the building,” I whispered. Luca didn’t answer. He was already moving toward the door, his hand curling around the gun at his side. The motion was controlled, methodical... like a predator deciding whether to strike. “Don’t open it,” I said quickly. His eyes flicked to me. They weren’t calm eyes anymore; they were the color of a storm. “If she’s still here, I’m not giving her a head start.” Eliza’s voice crackled through the intercom from the penthouse’s private comm line. “Hallway’s clear on my end. But that feather wasn’t there five minutes ago. Someone had to pass the west corner to place it.” “Then she’s still inside,” Luca said. I could hear his unspoken thought or... she has someo

Mira’s P.O.V The rain hadn’t stopped since dawn. It wasn’t heavy, just a steady curtain of drizzle tapping against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the study. The world outside looked blurred, as if someone had taken a wet brush to a painting and smeared the edges. The air smelled faintly of cedar from the crackling fireplace, and somewhere in the house, I could hear the faint hum of the generator. Luca was at his desk, head bent over a file, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His pen moved in short, precise strokes, pausing every now and then when his phone buzzed. I’d been watching him for the past five minutes from the couch, pretending to scroll through my tablet, but really… I was memorizing every line of his face. It was dangerous, this habit of mine. Not the watching but the way my chest warmed every time his eyes softened when they met mine. It made me forget that I was supposed to be careful. That I was keeping secrets. “Why are you staring?” he asked suddenly, wit

Mira’s P.O.V. The note lay on the nightstand like it was breathing. Stay inside tomorrow. No matter what you hear. It was Luca’s handwriting... steady, deliberate... but there was something in the way the ink cut across the paper that told me this wasn’t a request. It was an order. My palm smoothed over the slight curve of my belly. Well not so slight anymore. Six months and two weeks. I could feel her more these days... the tiny kicks, the faint rolls, the way she seemed to shift when I was restless, like she already knew I was thinking too much. “I guess you’re part of the ‘stay inside’ rule too, huh?” I whispered. She kicked once. Not hard, but enough to make me smile despite the heaviness in my chest. The smile didn’t last. I got up, folded the note, and slipped it into the drawer. I’d learned by now that nothing Luca left in plain sight was ever harmless. Downstairs, the new guards were already stationed by the front door. They looked the same as yesterday... pressed su

Mira’s P.O.V The storm didn’t let up. Rain hammered the roof like it was trying to break through, and the wind carried a low howl around the corners of the house. I stood at the upstairs landing, staring at the closed door to Luca’s office, my promise echoing in my head. Stay upstairs tonight. Don’t come down. No matter what you hear. I’d heard him give orders before, but this one felt different—less like a warning and more like a shield. The kind you build when you know something is coming straight for you. I told myself to move, to go back to the bedroom, but my feet stayed planted. Somewhere below, voices murmured. Not loud enough to make out words, but enough for me to feel their weight. The baby shifted inside me, a slow, deliberate roll against my ribs. I pressed my palm against her. “Don’t worry,” I whispered. “We’re safe up here.” It was a lie, and we both knew it. By the time I finally walked back into the bedroom, the house felt like it was holding its breath. I lef

Mira's P.O.V The rain hadn’t stopped since yesterday. It fell in sheets against the tall glass windows, the gray light bleeding into every corner of the De Silva mansion. The weather matched the weight pressing down on my chest—thick, cold, and impossible to shake off. Luca had been gone since early morning. He didn’t say where, only that he had “business” to take care of. His voice had been clipped, his eyes unreadable. It wasn’t unusual for him to disappear without explanation. But after everything that happened yesterday—the tense words, the almost-kiss, the way his hand lingered on my cheek like he was holding back something—it felt different. As if we were both avoiding a truth we didn’t know how to face. I sat at the small breakfast table in the conservatory, staring at a half-empty cup of tea gone cold. My phone was beside me, screen black, though I’d been waiting for it to light up all morning. Nothing. No call. No text. No explanation. “Still no word from him?” Manang