All Chapters of Pregnant by my Ex-Boyfriend’s Father: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Alex POVAfter everything Ethan did, after watching Aria get reduced to headlines and hashtags like she was an object, I realized something uncomfortable.I had been reacting.Angry. Defensive. Protective in the loud ways that made things worse.What Aria needed was not noise.She needed air.Leah told me she had shut everyone out. No visits. No calls. Curtains drawn. The kind of silence that isn’t rest, but hiding. The kind you slip into when the world decides your pain is entertainment.That knowledge sat heavy in my chest.So I thought carefully. Strategically. Like I always do when emotions threaten to ruin judgment.I couldn’t show up at her door again. That would only push her further into herself. I couldn’t send Leah with some grand plan either. Aria would smell pity a mile away, and pity would hurt her more than the scandal ever could.What she needed was dignity.Work.A reminder that her voice still carried value even when the world tried to drown it out.That’s when I reme

Alex POV By the time the lawyers filed out of the conference room, I was already regretting the lack of sleep I had last night. My head throbbed, not the dull, manageable kind, but the sharp, insistent pressure that sat behind my right eye and pulsed like a warning. The kind that made light feel louder than it should and voices scrape against the inside of my skull. I loosened my tie the moment the door closed. The room felt too warm. Or maybe my body was just tired of pretending it wasn’t under siege. I walked back to my office in silence, ignoring the greetings, the subtle glances, the careful distance people kept when they sensed a storm they were not invited into. My palm pressed briefly against the wall as I passed my assistant’s desk. Just for balance. Just for a second. That was new. Inside my office, I shut the door and leaned against it longer than necessary. The city sprawled outside the glass like it always did: confident, loud, indifferent. I crossed to my desk, ope

Alex POVI did not leave the café directly. I drove for five minutes first. Long enough to be certain no one was watching my patterns. Long enough to make sure the route blurred. Then I pulled over and called my driver. “Pick me up,” I said. “Come with a new car and Send the other car home.” I gave him a different landmark than the café. Security was not paranoia. It was habit. It was not that I believed my driver would betray me. If he ever did, he would not go free. But I had no appetite for unnecessary drama right now. No loose threads. No overlapping circles. The Rolls Royce arrived quietly, like it always did. I slid into the back seat and let the door close behind me. The silence inside the car was immediate and complete. Thick carpeting. Soft leather. The kind of comfort that did not announce itself but insisted on being felt. No wonder this car cost a fortune. I leaned back and closed my eyes. The day replayed itself without permission. Jane’s name circled in red.

Aria POVThe book club offer should not have meant as much as it did. It was one deal. One line in an inbox. One quiet yes from a group of strangers who had decided, for reasons I did not yet understand, that I was still worth reading. But after days of being reduced to a headline, it felt like oxygen. I spent the rest of that afternoon moving through my apartment with a kind of restless energy I had not felt since before everything burned. I opened windows I did not need to open. Rearranged cushions that were already aligned. Checked my phone too often, just to confirm the email was still there. Then I did something impulsive. I texted Tracy. Sleepover? She replied in under a minute. On my way. The excitement that followed surprised me. I planned it like a small event. Not because it mattered, but because I needed something ordinary to anchor myself to. I changed the sheets in the guest room. Lit the vanilla candle I always saved for guests. Ordered groceries I did not nee

Aria POVI left the hospital and boarded a taxi.The taxi smelled faintly of pine and old fabric.One of those air fresheners swung from the rearview mirror, the cheap kind that promised “forest breeze” and delivered something closer to detergent that had once met a tree. The driver kept glancing at me through the mirror, the way people do when they are deciding whether to speak or not.“So… traffic today,” he said finally.“Mmm,” I replied.Not rude. Just closed.He tried again a minute later. Something about fuel prices. About how the city never sleeps. About how he once met a famous actress who did not tip.I nodded when required. Smiled when politeness demanded it. But my head was already somewhere else, replaying the morning, replaying the doctor’s words.By the time we reached my building, my shoulders were tight with the effort of holding myself together.I paid, thanked him, stepped out.The gate creaked open. The security guard nodded. The elevator hummed its slow ascent.Hom