All Chapters of Pregnant for the Heartless Billionaire: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Elena's POVThe moment Damien carried me over the threshold of my bedroom, my breath stuttered in my throat. His strength, the way he held me as though I weighed nothing at all, sent tremors down my spine. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter, he laid me on the bed with such care, his lips already on mine, hungry, unrelenting, kissing me as though five years of distance could be erased in a single moment. I clutched at him, my fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer because I needed him closer. His body pressed into mine, hard and sure, every line of him so achingly familiar it shattered something inside me. Memories came rushing back, nights when we couldn’t get enough of each other, mornings tangled in sheets, his voice low and rough as he whispered my name against my skin. And my body remembered. Every nerve ending lit up, every inch of me trembling with awareness. His weight on me was grounding and electrifying all at once, a reminder of the man I had loved, the man I

Damien’s POVThe house felt strangely quiet after Elena left.For a moment, I stood there in the kitchen, my palms braced on the counter, the smell of pancakes and bacon still lingering in the air. Brian and Arya had returned upstairs. I could hear the muffled sounds of Brian and Arya rummaging through drawers, their little feet pattering across the floor as they got dressed for the day. That sound, the sound of my children getting ready, should have filled me with warmth. Instead, it pressed on the guilt that sat like a stone on my chest.I had missed this for five years.Five years of mornings. Five years of breakfasts. Five years of school runs and bedtime stories. All because of my own pride, my own blindness.I turned to the sink and began doing the dishes. The warm water ran over my hands, suds rising, plates clinking softly. Each movement was automatic, but my mind wouldn’t stop racing. I could still feel Elena’s warmth from last night, still taste her lips. I had missed her so

Elena’s POV“Damien checked out because he bought a house here in Westmere,” I said at last, my voice flat, steady. My pulse, however, was anything but. It beat erratically in my chest, as if trying to escape. “His father was brought here for treatment, and they will be staying in the new house he bought pending his recovery…”I left out the part about him being my neighbour. About how I had watched my children’s faces light up when he revealed it. About how a part of me, stupid, reckless, vulnerable, had also felt something when I heard it.I couldn’t bring myself to admit it to Ethan. Not when he stood before me looking this raw, this distraught. Somewhere deep down, I realised: I cared about his feelings. Not in the way he wanted, not in the way that could match his devotion, but enough that I couldn’t wield the truth like a knife.“I left because Anabelle was being disrespectful,” I continued, lowering my eyes to the papers I had been stacking. “Digging into my past, mocking me, th

Elena’s POVThe moment the door clicked shut behind us, my heart skipped.Twice.Then once more.It was the sound, the finality of it. The way the office seemed smaller now, the air denser, heavier. My mind flashed back to last night, his hands, his mouth, the way he had pulled me apart piece by piece until I was nothing but desire in his arms.I cursed silently. Why couldn’t I think straight? Why did my body betray me this way every time he was near?Damien moved toward me, and I saw him. Really saw him. His shirt was open at the throat, the top buttons undone, exposing a glimpse of the chest I had once known like the back of my hand. His sleeves were rolled up, his forearms strong, veins pronounced, tanned skin glistening faintly.It didn’t help matters at all.He stood in front of me like temptation itself. And for a dizzying moment, I almost forgot what had brought me here.I almost forgot Isabelle.But then her voice returned, her venom echoing in my mind. “Those two bastards of

Damien’s POV The evening drifted into something almost domestic, almost too perfect for a man like me. When Elena woke from her rest and joined us, we all gathered around the long dining table in my home. My mother sat at one end, smiling like she hadn’t in years, while my father, still fragile but present, occupied the other. Arya and Brian filled the room with their chatter, one talking over the other, and Elena, my Elena, sat across from me, her composure careful but her cheeks soft with warmth as she listened to the twins’ endless stories. It was a beautiful dinner, a family dinner, the kind I had only dreamed about for five years. And it tore at me because beneath the laughter and the easy flow of conversation, I knew it would not last forever. Elena was still guarded, still cautious, and I feared the moment would end and I would return to the cold reality of living apart from them. But before I could sink into that thought, Arya insisted, no, demanded, that I walk them back