Lahat ng Kabanata ng Pregnant for the Heartless Billionaire: Kabanata 91 - Kabanata 100

Elena’s POVThe house felt too quiet after Damien’s call.It was ridiculous, really, how a single voice could linger like perfume in a room long after the sound had gone. I sat there on the couch, phone still in my hand, staring at the black screen as if his words could somehow seep through it and replay themselves.It had been a simple call. Nothing dramatic. No declarations or confessions. Just… gentle conversation. He’d asked about my day, about the children. He’d laughed softly when I told him Arya had stolen Brian’s last cookie, and his voice had dipped low when he said he missed us.And I, God help me, I’d smiled the entire time.Even now, I could still hear his laughter in my ear, could picture the way his lips tilted when he teased me. The way he said my world with that quiet gravity that always disarmed me.I leaned back against the couch cushion, pressing a palm against my chest. “Pull yourself together, Elena,” I muttered. “You’re acting like a teenager.”But my heart didn’t

Elena’s POVBy the time the plane landed in Evercrest, it was ten o’clock at night, and the city was a glittering mosaic under a blanket of mist and rain.The moment the seatbelt sign went off, I was already reaching for my bag. My body moved on instinct, fast, anxious, propelled by something I couldn’t name. Every second that passed felt like a lifetime.I didn’t even wait for the flight attendant’s farewell; I half ran through the terminal, dragging my suitcase behind me. The cab driver barely had time to ask for my destination before I blurted, “Rothchild Memorial Hospital. Please, just drive fast.”The city lights blurred against the glass as we sped through the streets. My fingers wouldn’t stop trembling. I tried calling Mrs. Longman again, but the call went straight to voicemail.Collapsed.High blood pressure.Under observation.Her words replayed in my mind, looping like a curse.When we finally pulled up to the hospital, I tossed a wad of bills into the driver’s hand and hurr

Damien’s POVThe world returned to me in fragments, light, sound, and the muted rhythm of a machine somewhere close by.For a moment, I thought I was still trapped in that nightmare where Maria’s voice filled the air, her lies spilling through the screen while I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I expected to wake up alone again, choking on my own anger and the echo of her words.But then something soft touched my skin.Warm. Real.I opened my eyes, slowly. The light burned at first, white and sterile, but through the haze I saw a figure sitting near the bed, a silhouette I would know anywhere.Elena.My chest tightened, and for a moment I thought I was dreaming again. She couldn’t be here. I’d imagined her too many times, sitting exactly like that, quiet, watching over me, her hair falling in loose waves around her face.But then she moved, and the chair creaked. Her scent, soft jasmine and the faint trace of her lotion, filled the air.She was here.She was really here.“Lena…” My voic

Damien’s POVThe day began like a second chance I didn’t deserve.Sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the dining room, and the house, our house, was alive again. The smell of fresh coffee filled the air, mingling with the quiet hum of morning life. I hadn’t woken up to this kind of peace in this house in years. Not since Elena left.And yet, there she was.Moving gracefully around the table, hair tied loosely, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup as she pretended not to notice me watching her.It was the kind of domestic scene I’d once taken for granted. Now, every second of it felt borrowed, fragile and fleeting.“You’re staring,” she said without looking up.“Can you blame me?” I replied.She smiled faintly, shaking her head. “You’re supposed to be recovering, not scheming.”I chuckled, leaning back in my chair. “Who says I can’t do both?”“Damien,” she warned softly. “Don’t push yourself.”“I’m fine.”She arched a brow, unconvinced. “You collapsed.”“And now I’m stan

Damien’s POVI woke first. Sunlight crept through the curtains and painted her hair gold. Elena slept facing me, one arm curled under her cheek, her breathing calm, unhurried. For the first time in years, she looked weightless, free of the tension that had etched itself into her shoulders.I reached out, brushed a strand of hair from her face, then stopped myself. Even now, after everything, I was afraid of breaking whatever fragile truce existed between us.When she stirred, her eyes opened slowly. She smiled the way she used to, sleepy, genuine, unguarded. “Morning.”“Morning,” I murmured. “Sleep well?”“Surprisingly, yes,” she said. “I didn’t dream for once.”I smiled faintly. “Then it’s already a good day.”We had breakfast in the sunroom, coffee, scrambled eggs, the sound of Mrs Longman humming somewhere in the background. Elena didn’t touch her phone, and I didn’t open the paper. The silence wasn’t heavy; it was full.When I poured her another cup, she met my eyes. “So,” she sai