All Chapters of Pregnant for the Heartless Billionaire: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Elena’s POVAs soon as the children drifted into sleep, and Damien and I slipped out of their room, a knot formed in my chest.What had I just done?I had told them he would be here in the morning. I had promised them the very thing I had spent years trying to guard them from , hope.Hope was dangerous. Hope was cruel.But when Arya had looked at me, clutching his hand with those wide, innocent eyes, how could I say no? How could I shatter that moment of joy when she so rarely got to be just a little girl, free of questions about where her father had been all these years?Damien’s presence had lit them up in a way I hadn’t seen before. I couldn’t bring myself to snuff that out. Not yet.Still, as we padded down the hallway in silence, I felt the weight of my mistake pressing against my ribs. This wasn’t for me. It couldn’t be. This was for Arya, for Brian.When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I stopped and turned toward him, gesturing to the same guest room where he had changed

Damien’s POV I hardly slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face , flushed with heat, then pale with anger. I felt her body under mine, yielding and trembling, then stiffening, cold. I saw her tears, the ones I had caused, and heard her voice, cutting me to the core: This was a mistake. My chest ached with the memory of it. I had touched her again. I had tasted her, held her, felt her tremble for me. My body had rejoiced, my heart had burned, but her mind had recoiled. She had remembered the worst of me , the slap, the accusations, the betrayal , and the fire between us had turned to ice in an instant. And yet… she had let me stay. It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t even trust. But it was something. A sliver of hope I clung to like a drowning man to driftwood. I tossed and turned on the guest bed, staring at the ceiling until the shadows softened into dawn. Finally, exhaustion dragged me under, though not for long. When I woke again, light streamed through the blinds

Damien’s POVThe twins had taken over my suite.Arya had transformed the sofa into her castle, scattering pillows like fortifications around her, while Brian sat cross-legged on the rug with the remote, sternly in charge of the kingdom’s television. Cartoon voices filled the room, shrill and cheerful, completely at odds with the storm in my chest.I should have been comforted by the sound. Their laughter. Their squabbling. Their presence.But my mind was elsewhere.The phone call earlier still echoed in me. Adrian’s words about the accident. About the truth that had been buried for five long years.It hadn’t been premeditated. No one had plotted against my parents. No malicious hand behind the wheel. Just a traffic light malfunction. A terrified man who fled in cowardice rather than face the weight of responsibility.And yet that anonymous letter had found its way into my hands. The money. The receipt. The handwriting I had obsessed over. The lies I had swallowed whole.I clenched my

Elena’s POVThe foyer echoed with the sound of little feet, their joy still reverberating long after Damien’s revelation. Arya was twirling near the coat rack, her curls bouncing wildly, chanting, “Daddy’s our neighbor, Daddy’s our neighbor!” while Brian stood in stunned silence, a grin tugging at the edges of his mouth as though he still wasn’t sure if he believed it.I stood frozen.My breath came shallow, my hands trembling against the strap of my purse. My heart was pounding not with joy, not with the relief that my children so clearly felt, but with dread.Because this was Damien.The same Damien who had once held my heart and crushed it with his suspicions, his accusations, his inability to see me beyond Isabelle’s shadow. The same man who had raised his hand to me, who had doubted my every word, who had thrown me and my deceased mother into the mud of his contempt.Now he was standing in my foyer, soaked in the glow of my children’s adoration, smiling like he had just won somet

Elena’s POVMy lips were still burning.That kiss, God, that kiss.His words about tasting me again, about fighting for us, wouldn’t stop replaying in my head. The intensity of it made my knees buckle all over again, and I hated myself for remembering. For feeling. For craving.Last night I had almost surrendered. Almost given in to the way he touched me, the way my body had responded like it never forgot. I had pulled away at the last moment, reminded by the sting of old wounds, by the humiliation of the slap that had branded me with pain and betrayal.And yet here I was, trembling under the aftermath of his lips, my body screaming at me to stop fighting.I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to steady the pounding of my heart. What kind of fool was I, still letting him do this to me?The twins’ laughter floated down from upstairs, breaking through my storm. I forced myself up the steps, Damien close behind me. He didn’t touch me again, didn’t speak, but I felt him. His presence shado