All Chapters of Her Resolve: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Lauren pov Ethan’s place takes my breath away. Not in a loud, showy way—but in the quiet confidence of someone who doesn’t need to prove anything. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across the living room, overlooking the city like it belongs to him. Polished marble floors. Neutral tones—warm greys, deep browns, soft gold accents. Art that looks expensive without screaming for attention. Everything is deliberate. Controlled. Very Ethan. “This is… wow,” I say, stepping inside carefully, like I might scuff something priceless just by breathing wrong. He smirks. “Relax. It’s just a house.” “Just a house? Well, mine has to be a shed,” I counter. “This is the kind of place people write think pieces about.” He laughs, taking my coat. “You’re dramatic.” “Your flat is really different from mine,” I pouted. “It's beautiful.” It's true. Since we're in the same building, the structure of our place is very different from each other. While his is big, spacious, and exceptionally desi

Chapter 64 Andre Sleep has become a suggestion, not a promise. I wake before dawn, the room still dark, the city quiet in that fragile way it gets before morning pretends everything is normal. My phone is on the nightstand where I left it, screen face down, silent. No missed calls. No messages. Of course not. I sit up anyway, running a hand over my face, jaw tight. Whatever is gnawing at me has nothing to do with meetings, numbers, or market share. I know that much. Work used to exhaust me. This—this feels different. Personal. Unfinished. I shower, dress with mechanical precision. Dark suit. White shirt. No tie. I look composed in the mirror, ruthless even. The kind of man people hesitate before crossing. They don’t see the cracks. They never do. By the time I get to the office, I’m already in motion, issuing instructions, approving decisions, and signing documents without really seeing the ink hit paper. People move out of my way instinctively. They always have. My assistant

Lauren Four months later. My body tells the story before my mind can catch up. The gentle curve of my stomach is no longer something I can hide with oversized sweaters or clever angles. My baby bump is there—soft, round, unmistakable. Growing. Thriving. So am I.I’ve been so curious about the baby's gender but too nervous to check. I always told the doctors at my check ups to not tell me. But today is the day I finally stop avoiding it. The gender scan. I’ve postponed it longer than necessary, convincing myself I wasn’t ready, that it could wait. Truth is, I was scared. Naming things makes them real. Knowing makes you plan. And planning means admitting that this new life is the new version of me. A permanent version. I wake up calm. Ready.As I let the morning welcome us, I just sit in bed rubbing my belly. “Today I get to know if you’re a boy or a girl,” I whispered to my baby in a husky voice. I feel it turn and that’s my sign that it’s also exciting for me to know. I gigg

Andre Business trips used to excite me. New cities. New deals. The thrill of expansion. The quiet satisfaction of signing something that shifts markets. Now, they’re just movement. I wasn’t in the mood to travel and was ready to send my assistant but this meeting was really important. My presence was very much needed. The real reason why I actually decided to go was to get away from New York for awhile, just to clear my head. ___________Today’s destination is a place I’ve never been to. Auckland, New Zealand. I’m up before sunrise. The house is silent when I leave. Too silent. Julia is still asleep. I don’t check. I don’t linger. I grab my overnight bag, already packed by my assistant, and head out. The drive to the private terminal is smooth, the city barely awake. Streetlights flicker against tinted windows. My phone buzzes nonstop—emails, confirmations, last-minute projections for today’s meeting. Sebastian Group is expanding into the Pacific. New land acquisition. L

Andre povChapter 71AndreThe drive to the hospital feels longer than the flight from New Zealand.Every red light is an insult. Every slow driver, a personal attack.Julia is in labor.The words echo in my head in rhythm with my heartbeat.By the time I rush through the hospital doors, my chest is tight again—but this time for a different reason. Not Lauren. Not Auckland. Not the man in the café.This is real. Immediate. Present.Grace is waiting near the nurses’ station.“She’s in room 407,” she says quickly. “She’s been asking for you.”Of course she has.I nod once and head down the corridor.When I push open the door, Julia is propped up in the hospital bed, hair damp at her temples, one hand gripping the railing as another contraction rolls through her.Her face tightens when she sees me.“You came,” she breathes.There’s relief in her voice.Something inside me softens automatically.“I’m here,” I say, moving to her side.And I am.Whatever confusion is twisting through my lif