Semua Bab Pregnant for the Heartless Billionaire: Bab 1 - Bab 10

Elena’s POVThe pregnancy test had been trembling in my hands when the phone rang. I didn’t even need to answer to know who it was.“Elena?” Elijah’s voice burst through the line, vibrant and excited, the way only my little brother could sound. “Congratulations, sis, you’re pregnant. Just over a month!”My lips parted, and suddenly the whole world tilted. Pregnant. I pressed a hand over my flat stomach as though I could already feel the life stirring inside me. My chest filled with a joy so fierce it burned.On the very day of our third wedding anniversary.A sign. It had to be.“Are you sure?” My voice trembled.“As sure as science can be,” Elijah laughed softly. “Don’t you dare stress. You’re carrying the heir to the Rothschilds, Elena. Be careful, alright?”The heir. My child. Damien’s child.My heart fluttered in disbelief. After three years of quietly loving him, of being patient with his indifference, of clutching onto every sliver of kindness he spared me, I finally carried a p

Elena’s POVThe first thing I felt when I opened my eyes again was Elijah’s hand holding mine, his thumb brushing softly across my knuckles.“Elena.” His voice was weary, cracked from hours of worry. “You scared me half to death.”I blinked up at him, the pale light of dawn cutting across his tired face. “The baby?”“They’re safe,” he said quickly, his eyes glistening with relief. “Still fighting. You’re still fighting.”A trembling breath escaped me. “Thank God.”But disappointment pricked sharp as needles when I glanced around. The chair beside the bed was empty, the room silent except for the steady beep of the monitor. He wasn’t here.Damien hadn’t come.The ache of it settled into my bones. I could forgive his anger. I could forgive his blindness. But his absence now, when our child’s life hung by a thread, was the wound that cut too deep to ever heal.“Elena…” Elijah hesitated. “Why don’t you just tell him? He’d have to face the truth if he knew you were carrying his baby. He co

Elena’s POVThe morning light streamed across the polished marble floor of the penthouse as I stood before the mahogany desk. The papers lay there, neat and crisp, waiting for my signature like a sentence that had already been decided.I stared at them for a long while. Three years of marriage reduced to a stack of legal documents. Three years of my heart, of dreams I’d stitched together in silence, now ready to be torn apart with a few strokes of ink.My hand didn’t shake as I signed.The pen glided smoothly, the finality of my name sealing everything. I pressed the papers together, smoothed them down, and placed them at the centre of the desk.It was done.I glanced around the living room one last time. The glass walls looked out over the city, glittering beneath the rising sun. The plush leather couch where Damien had fallen asleep after endless nights at the office. The dining table where I had once set candlelit dinners he never came home to. The bedroom upstairs where I had whis

Damien’s POVSix weeks.That was how long it had been since Elena walked out of my life.Six weeks since the sound of the elevator doors closed between us. Six weeks since her calm voice cut through me with the lie: I already forgot.And in all that time, I had heard nothing about the driver.Adrian Lang, for all his boasting about efficiency, had only given me silence. No names. No locations. No answers. He swore his team was “working the angles,” but every day that passed felt like a noose tightening around my chest.I told myself I was patient. That I could wait for justice. But at night, when the city lights glittered against the glass walls of my penthouse, my thoughts weren’t on the driver.They were on her.Where was she now?Who was she with?Had she found someone else to run to, someone to hold her when she cried, someone to fill the silence I had left behind?The thought clawed at me, tearing through my pride. She had signed the divorce papers so easily, walked away without

Damien’s POVI heard her before I saw her. The soft shuffle of footsteps in my foyer, the practiced sigh that followed.“Damien,” Isabella’s voice floated through the air, weak, trembling. “I… I don’t feel well. I was terrified of being alone in case something happened.”I looked up from the file in my hands. She stood there, pale in the dim light, one hand against the wall as though the effort of walking into my house might topple her.I should have told the guards to throw her out. But instead, I exhaled slowly, rubbing my temples. “Fine. You can use the guest room.”Her lips curved ever so slightly, but she quickly smoothed it into a fragile smile. “Thank you, Damien. You’re always so kind.”I ignored the comment, returning to my work.That night, she tried.She brushed against me in the hallway, lingered too long when she brought me tea I didn’t ask for, her robe slipping from her shoulder just enough to reveal pale skin. She leaned close, her perfume thick, her hand grazing mine