Lahat ng Kabanata ng Pregnant for the Heartless Billionaire: Kabanata 121 - Kabanata 130

Damien’s POVThe city skyline was just beginning to fade into dusk when Mathias’s name flashed across my phone. I’d been expecting the call, the board had been pressing him for updates since the Reynolds proposal leaked.I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temple before answering. “Mathias.”“Evening, Damien,” he greeted, his voice carrying that mixture of fatigue and precision that came with decades of handling high-stake negotiations. “I’m calling about the Reynolds matter. I heard James has been making moves behind the scenes to reopen merger discussions.”A muscle twitched in my jaw. “He has no authority to make those calls. Not anymore.”“That’s what I told them,” Mathias said. “But the chatter is growing. I need to know if we’re still pursuing the merger or not.”I swiveled my chair toward the window, eyes tracing the glint of lights reflected in the glass. “Reynolds is too small a company for a merger,” I said flatly. “A merger implies equality, and there’s nothing equal abo

Damien’s POVWe fell silent again. I glanced toward the mantel and saw a framed photograph, Paul, grinning with his arm around his father, taken just before everything went wrong. My throat tightened.“I wish you’d told me you were back,” I said quietly. “I would have visited sooner.”He sighed. “I wasn’t sure I’d stay. The city holds too many ghosts.”“You’ve learned to live with them,” I said.“Not live,” he corrected softly. “Coexist.”We both chuckled lightly at that.For a long while, we just sat there, sipping tea the housekeeper brought in. The quiet was strangely comforting.But as I watched him, fragments of the past began piecing themselves together, his strained marriage, the bitterness that once filled this house, and the name that always caused him to flinch. Isabelle.I remembered the tension in his voice whenever she was mentioned. And now, after all these years, the truth made grim sense.Isabelle wasn’t his daughter. She was the result of his wife’s affair with anothe

Damien’s POVThe hum of the engine had become a low comfort, steady, rhythmic, familiar. The van behind us, though, was anything but.It had been there since we left the Jefferson estate, unmarked, tinted, keeping a deliberate distance. My driver, Louis, kept glancing at the rear-view mirror.“Sir,” he said again, “that van’s still on us.”I turned slightly, catching a glimpse through the reflection, same dark vehicle, same cautious space between us. The streetlights slid over its surface like blades of light.“Take the next turn,” I said quietly.“Which way?”“Anywhere. Random.”Louis nodded, tension creeping into his knuckles as he gripped the wheel. He veered suddenly down a side street that cut through the quieter part of town, a sharp left through a row of warehouses, then another right toward the river road.The van followed.My stomach clenched.“It’s them,” I said.Louis didn’t reply, he didn’t have to. The way his foot pressed harder on the accelerator said everything.We spe

Damien’s POVThe morning air felt cleaner than it should have. Maybe it was the hospital’s recycled oxygen finally leaving my lungs, or maybe it was just relief, the kind that sits heavy on your ribs and doesn’t quite let go even when you’re outside.They discharged me quietly. No press, no questions. Adrian’s men made sure of that. The bullet wound had closed enough for movement, though every stretch still burned like an echo of the night I’d rather forget.When I stepped into the car, the city looked different, sharper, louder, alive in a way that made me uneasy. The streets were familiar, but they no longer felt safe.Louis turned slightly from the driver’s seat. “Straight home, sir?”“Yes,” I said, leaning back. “No stops.”He nodded and merged into traffic.Outside, life went on as if nothing had happened. People rushing to work. Vendors calling out from corners. A couple laughing at a red light. The world didn’t pause for near-death experiences. It just kept moving.By the time

Elena’s POVThe courier arrived just as I was finishing the last line of my resignation letter.For a moment, I thought it was another document from the Oswald office, something to make me second-guess my decision. But when I opened the envelope and saw the words Certificate of Name Change, my breath caught.The twins’ new surname gleamed in ink that felt almost sacred.Arya Rothschild. Brian Rothschild.I traced the letters slowly, as if afraid they’d vanish if I blinked too hard. The paper was smooth, heavy, official, but it was what it meant that undid me.They weren’t Carters anymore.They were Rothschilds.Damien’s children. My children. Ours, publicly, legally, finally.A soft smile tugged at my lips. It felt like closure and a beginning all at once.This was the surprise I wanted to give him. A piece of peace after months of chaos.I folded the certificate carefully, slid it into the inner pocket of my bag, and stared at the letter still glowing on my computer screen.Resignati