Todos los capítulos de The Baby Clause: Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

Morning arrived like a secret whispered through the curtains. Soft light spilled into the room, catching on dust motes and linen folds, stretching slowly across the floor like it was testing its welcome.I slipped out of bed, the floor cool under my feet as I crossed to the window. Morning softened everything. The candles were still faintly scented from the night before, the scent of lavender and vanilla curling through the cracked pane.I made my way to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Tea was supposed to be part of my new morning routine. Something grounding. Gentle. Predictable.The moment the steam hit my face, my stomach protested with sharp, undeniable rebellion.“Nope.”I barely made it to the bathroom, sinking to my knees just in time. Cold porcelain against my skin, one hand bracing the wall, the other clutching the edge of the sink like it could anchor me.So much for gentle.Pregnancy, I’d decided, was a scam. At least the version sold on mommy blogs and pastel Instagram

By the time Rosa left the next morning, her laughter still echoed in the hallway. She had filled the house with warmth, the kind that didn’t come from chandeliers worth more than my old rent or roses arranged by professionals. No...Rosa’s warmth was the kind that reminded me of who I used to be, who I still was beneath all this marble and money. Watching her climb into the cab with a wave far too cheerful for the hour, I felt the air grow still again. Hollow.I pressed my palm against my belly. The swell was faint but undeniable now, a whisper of life under my skin. Four months. Almost halfway. The thought scared me more than it comforted me. The clock was ticking, and I couldn’t just sit here like a pampered prisoner, waiting for my life to be decided for me.Which is why, instead of heading back into that mausoleum of polished floors and hushed servants, I tugged on the oversized hoodie I’d stolen from Rosa’s bag and slipped out before the guards could ask where I was going.I wasn’

I woke with a crick in my neck and a blanket I didn’t remember pulling over myself. The den lights had dimmed sometime in the night, the glow of my laptop screen long since gone black. For a moment, disoriented, I just blinked at the soft fabric pooled around me. It wasn’t mine. Too heavy, too warm, and it smelled faintly of cedar and smoke.Damian.The realization made my chest tighten. He must have found me here, slumped against the cushions with grant applications still open, and instead of snapping at me to take better care of myself, he’d... what? Tucked me in like a child? Like something… more?I shook the thought off before it could dig too deep. Still, when I pressed a hand to my belly, the curve felt more real than ever. Four months. Almost halfway. And I still had nothing solid to offer this baby except the hope that somehow, I’d get back on my feet.Which is why, the second I was upright again, I reached for my phone and called Rosa.“Please tell me you’re free,” I begged t

The envelope had been sitting on my nightstand for two days like something radioactive.I'd read the first few pages the night he gave it to me. Stipend. Security clearance. Health coverage. Boundaries. All the clean, clinical language of a man who solved problems by putting them in writing.I hadn't finished it.Some part of me knew that if I got to the end, something in it would change the shape of my life again, and I'd had enough of that lately. The fire had already done that. The penthouse had already done that. I didn't need a stapled packet of legalese to finish the job.But it was morning now, sun cutting thin gold lines across the guest room floor, and Damian had left for the office an hour ago, and Rosa wasn't due until noon, and there was nothing left to distract me from it.So I sat cross-legged on the bed, one hand resting on the curve of my stomach like it could brace me, and I read.Page four was fine. Page five, fine. Page six started with a paragraph about parental de

I threw up twice before nine a.m., and neither time had anything to do with the baby.Nerves, pure and simple. The kind that lived in your knees and made your hands forget how to hold a coffee cup without shaking half of it onto your sleeve.Rosa had picked out my outfit the night before, something professional but soft, a deep green blouse that didn't scream billionaire's houseguest or woman who cried into a stranger's blanket four months ago. Just Brielle Taylor. Business owner. Mother-to-be. Woman with a plan.I stood in front of the mirror in the guest room and practiced saying it out loud one more time."My name is Brielle Taylor, and I'm here to rebuild."It still felt like a costume line. But it was mine.Cassian drove me. Damian had offered, obviously, in that clipped, unbothered way of his that somehow always managed to sound like an order disguised as a favor, and I'd said no, obviously, because if I walked into this meeting on his arm I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to tell