Too Late , I am Carrying His Child のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 121 - チャプター 130

Adrian came home earlier than usual that evening. The sky was soft and orange, the sun getting ready to sleep. He felt lighter as he drove in. Work was fine — the meetings went well — but the thought of home kept him calm all day.When he stepped into the gate, he heard small feet running. Liam came fast, arms wide, face bright. “Daddy!” he shouted and jumped straight into Adrian’s arms. The little boy smelled like milk and sunlight. Adrian laughed and hugged him tight.Savannah stood near the door with a towel in her hands. She was smiling, but tired from the day. When Adrian looked at her, the tired left his face. He walked over and kissed her softly.“You’re home early,” she said, voice soft.“I wanted to see you,” he said, small and true. “I missed you both.”Liam wiggled in Adrian’s arms and tried to say something that sounded like “more.” Adrian smiled and tickled his ribs. Liam squealed and giggled, tiny hands grabbing at Adrian’s collar.They went inside together. The house fe

Nathaniel sat quietly in his car, parked in front of a tall glass building. He checked his wristwatch and sighed. It was almost 10 a.m., and he had an important appointment with a business consultant that morning. For days, things in his company hadn’t been going smoothly. Sales were dropping, and some financial reports didn’t add up. He had been restless all week, wondering if it was just bad luck — or something deeper. He finally stepped out of the car, adjusted his suit, and walked into the building. The receptionist smiled politely. “Good morning, sir. You have an appointment with Mr. Collins, the consultant.” “Yes,” Nathaniel replied. “Please let him know I’m here.” She made a quick call and nodded. “You can go in, sir. He’s expecting you.” Nathaniel walked down the quiet hallway until he reached the large glass door. He pushed it open gently. Inside, a middle-aged man with gray hair and glasses stood up from behind a wooden desk. “Mr. Nathaniel, welcome,” he said war

It was a cold evening in New York. The streets glowed with yellow lights, and the sound of moving cars filled the air. In a quiet corner of a fancy restaurant, Clara sat at a round table wearing dark glasses and a red coat. Her face looked calm, but her eyes burned with anger and revenge. Three men walked in one after another. They were not ordinary men — strong-looking, rough, and clearly dangerous. The tallest one sat across from Clara. He had a scar on his cheek and looked like someone who had seen too many fights. Clara removed her glasses slowly. “You’re late,” she said, her voice cold. The man with the scar smirked. “We don’t rush for anyone, lady. You said you had a job for us?” Clara leaned forward. “Yes. A very important one. And I’ll pay well for it.” The second man, younger and with tattoos on both arms, raised an eyebrow. “How much are we talking about?” Clara smiled faintly. “Money won’t be your problem when this is done. But you have to follow every word I sa

The next morning was bright and peaceful. The sweet smell of pancakes filled the whole mansion. Savannah was in the kitchen with two maids, helping them even though they begged her to rest. She just laughed and said she wanted to do something small. Adrian had decided to work from home that day. He sat at the dining table with his laptop open but wasn’t really focused. He kept stealing glances at Savannah as she moved around in her light pink gown. When breakfast was ready, they all sat together — Adrian, Savannah, little Liam in his baby chair, and of course, the ever-talkative aunty Lisa who had come early that morning. Aunty Lisa took one bite of her pancake and smiled. “Hmm, Savannah, your hand is blessed. This food is sweet. No wonder Adrian looks fresh every day.” Savannah blushed and laughed softly. “Aunty, it’s not me oh, the maids helped too.” Aunty Lisa waved her hand. “Ah, even if the maids helped, I know your touch is there. A woman that can cook like this

The morning sun poured through the tall glass windows of the mansion, lighting up the living room with a soft golden glow. Everything seemed calm — until Rose’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Where’s my coffee?” she barked, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor as she stormed into the kitchen. The maids froze immediately. It was one of those mornings when Rose’s temper was unpredictable. Everyone knew it was better to stay out of her way when she was in one of her moods. A young maid named Clara stepped forward timidly, holding a tray with a cup of hot coffee. Her hands trembled slightly. “Ma’am, your coffee is right here. I… I wasn’t sure if you wanted milk, so I—” Before she could finish, Rose’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Are you trying to say I don’t know what I want?” The poor maid shook her head quickly. “N-no, ma’am. I just wanted to ask—” *SLAP!* The sound was loud and sharp, echoing through the kitchen like thunder. Everyone gasped. Clara staggere