Semua Bab Priced By My Billionaire Nemesis: Bab 171 - Bab 180

Adrian let out a short breath that might have been a laugh if he had any energy left for it, but it broke halfway through. His eyes stayed on our son as if even humor felt dangerous, as if joy might tempt the universe to take something back.“He’s right,” I murmured.Adrian glanced down at our son, then back at me. Something settled behind his eyes, a decision forming. A softness sharpened into purpose.“We can’t keep calling him the baby,” he said softly.The small sound Eli made in the corridor was pure relief, like he was glad someone else had named the obvious truth out loud. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly, then retreated again, leaving the naming of our child where it belonged.I watched Adrian for a long moment. He still looked like he did not believe he deserved to sit this close to us. Like he was waiting for the universe to correct itself and take the peace back, and he did not trust his hands not to ruin it if he touched too much.“We should name him,” I said softly.The words su

They admitted us immediately.Not urgently. Not with panic. But with the kind of quiet seriousness that makes everything feel heavier, like the air itself has rules you are expected to obey. The doors opened into a corridor that smelled of antiseptic and warmed linen, and the fluorescent lights were too bright for a body that had just fought through darkness. Everything was clean in a way that made me feel messy. Blood, milk, sweat, storm, fear. I carried all of it on my skin like a second layer.The pediatrician on call took our son first. She introduced herself in a calm, practiced voice, as if babies born in moving vehicles during storms were simply another line item on her shift. She did not rush. She did not dramatize. She wrapped him more securely in the hospital blanket, adjusted the knit cap on his head to reduce heat loss, and checked his color, his tone, the small flex of his fingers.“I’m just going to examine him properly,” she said. “It won’t take long.”I nodded, but my a

Nathaniel’s mouth searched again, impatient now, small sounds of frustration vibrating against my skin. The nurse adjusted him with gentle precision, guiding his head until instinct took over. His mouth opened wide. He latched.The pull was stronger this time. Deep. Certain. It startled me, not with pain but with force. My body reacted immediately, tightening low in my abdomen, a dull internal squeeze that made me inhale sharply. The sensation felt less like discomfort and more like recognition, as if some quiet conversation between us had resumed now that he was finally here. He had fought his way into the world, and now he claimed me with the same stubborn certainty.“There,” the nurse murmured softly. “That’s better.”Adrian stood close enough that I could feel the warmth of him without touching. He was watching us, but not like before. Not like a man witnessing something fragile.Like a man studying something he would defend with violence if necessary.Nathaniel settled into rhythm

By the time Adrian left the police station the city had settled into the steady rhythm of late morning. Traffic moved in continuous lines along the main avenues, delivery trucks stood backed into narrow loading bays, and pedestrians crossed intersections with the distracted urgency of ordinary routines. The world around him carried on without pause, as if nothing unusual had occurred, and that quiet indifference suited him. What mattered now was preparation.Adrian stepped into the waiting car that had been called through his assistant and closed the door behind him. It was an ordinary sedan, clean but impersonal, the interior carrying the faint scent of synthetic upholstery and air freshener. He gave the driver the next destination and then settled back into the seat, already moving ahead in his thoughts.After a moment he took out his phone and scrolled to the number he had saved earlier that morning. The physician who had examined Lena after the birth had written it down on a small

When Lena woke again the light in the room had changed.The warm glow of afternoon had deepened into the softer tones of early evening, the brightness filtered through the drawn curtains so that the suite felt quiet and enclosed, removed from the steady movement of the city beyond the windows. For a few moments she remained still, listening to the silence and allowing awareness to return slowly. Her body felt heavy but no longer fragile in the way it had that morning. The sharp edge of exhaustion had softened into something steadier, a deep tiredness that came with recovery rather than fear.The first thing she did was turn her head toward the bassinet.Nathaniel slept there exactly as she had last seen him, wrapped in the thin hospital blanket with one small arm bent upward near his face. His fingers curled loosely against his cheek as if he had drifted into sleep before finishing whatever motion had begun there. His breathing came in the uneven rhythm that was already becoming famili