Lahat ng Kabanata ng Pregnant for the Heartless Billionaire: Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

Elena’s POVThe principal sat behind the desk, rigid and disapproving, her eyes narrowing the moment she saw me. “Mrs. Carter,” she greeted curtly, gesturing vaguely to the seat beside the other boy’s mother.I did not sit.Instead, I leveled my gaze at her and asked evenly, “Why is my son standing?”Her brows furrowed. “I have limited seats in my office.”“Do you?” I countered softly, my eyes sliding deliberately toward the other boy in his cushioned chair. “Interesting. Because it seems only one child has been granted the dignity of sitting. If there truly aren’t enough seats, then perhaps both boys should stand. Or”, I let the silence stretch, my voice sharpening, “you can have another chair brought in for my son. He is no less a student here than the one you’ve seated.”The other boy’s mother gasped as if I had spat on her. She straightened, her voice dripping with contempt. “How dare you? Do you know who we are? You dare suggest my son should stand to you?”I turned my gaze to he

Damien’s POVI froze.The little boy standing in front of me wasn’t just some child Elena happened to be watching over, he was a mirror. A smaller, softer reflection of myself. The same eyes, the same stubborn set to the jaw, even the way he held his shoulders carried a strange familiarity that tore the breath out of my lungs.I couldn’t move at first. My body wanted to, my heart thundered for it, but my legs betrayed me, locking me to the spot. My gaze darted from his face to Elena’s, searching for denial, for some hint that what my heart screamed couldn’t possibly be true. But her expression gave me nothing, her lips were pressed into a thin line, her body rigid, her arms folded tight as if holding herself together.“This is an out-of-bounds area,” she said sharply, her tone as cold and professional as polished steel.The words cut deeper than they should have. Once upon a time, she’d called my name with warmth, whispered it like a vow in the dark. Now she wouldn’t even grant me the

Damien’s POV The hospital walls felt cold that afternoon. Even with Brian’s small hand gripping my sleeve, I couldn’t shake the tension clawing at my chest. I had told my mother to rest, begged her to stay back after Father’s surgery. But as soon as I stepped into the corridor, I froze. There she was. Margo Rothchild, impeccable in her poise despite the fatigue etched into her face, stood by the waiting lounge, her presence commanding even in weariness. She turned sharply when she heard us, her eyes darting to me and then immediately locking on the boy at my side. “They called me before they called you,” she said quickly, as though the explanation would soften the sharpness of her tone. But her voice faltered when she looked at Brian again, curiosity flickering, then deepening into something else. I drew Brian closer to me, pride swelling despite the circumstances. “Mother,” I said, my voice thick, “this is my son. Your grandson.” Her world tilted in an instant. Shock painted her

Elena’s POVThe hospital smelled of antiseptic and hushed urgency. My heels clicked lightly against the polished floor as Arya’s small hand curled tightly into mine. Every step forward felt heavier, as though I was walking deeper into a storm I wasn’t sure I was ready for.“Elena.”I turned sharply at the sound of my brother’s voice. Elijah stood near the reception desk, his white coat buttoned, his expression weary but steady. For a moment, the familiar sight of him was the only anchor I had.“You made it,” he said, his eyes darting to Arya, who clung to my side. His lips twitched into the faintest smile. “You know she looks just like you,” he said, repeating words he had said countless times with an ‘I told you so’ meaning behind it.“Where is he?” I asked quietly, unable to say Damien’s name aloud.Elijah studied me for a beat, his gaze full of words he didn’t say. Then he nodded toward the elevators. “Top floor. Family waiting lounge. You’ll find him there.”I thanked him softly a

Elena’s POVBrian and Arya sat by their grandfather’s side as if they had always belonged there. Watching them lean against him, their laughter filling the sterile air of the hospital room, broke something deep inside me. They weren’t shy or hesitant. They accepted Thomas Rothchild with the kind of innocence only children carried, their small hands clutching his weak fingers as though they had always known him.And Thomas, he looked ten years younger in that bed. His frailty was still obvious, but the spark in his eyes, the way his lips trembled with joy as he whispered to them, was something I hadn’t seen even during my marriage to Damien.I had thought I was ready for this moment, but tears welled up anyway. They stung my eyes, spilling down my cheeks before I could wipe them away.Margo slipped her hand into mine, her grip warm and firm. I turned to her, startled. She was watching me with that mother’s gaze I had once craved but convinced myself I’d never receive. Her own eyes shim