Lahat ng Kabanata ng Pregnant with the Billionaire Vampire Heir: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

Ardonis point of view.I’m pretending to read a report on my desk when I hear it—her approaching presence. The sharp unmistakable clicks of her Louboutin’s.Nyra doesn’t knock.She never knocks anymore.“Explain yourself,” she says.I look up slowly. “Good morning to you too.”"Ardonis," she said, her voice clipped, devoid of any warmth. It was the voice she used when she was running out of patience. It was the voice she used with me."Nyra," I drawled, letting my gaze travel slowly up her body. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Did you come to personally deliver my termination notice?""Don't flatter yourself," she shot back, stepping closer, her presence filling the small space and suffocating me. "I want to talk about this." She gestured vaguely towards my face, where the bruise from Xavier's punch was still a faint, yellowing shadow.And threw a crinkled newspaper on my desk. On the front page was a picture of Xavier’s and mines bruised faces on the night of the gala and a controver

Ardonis point of view.The fall was endless.One moment I was standing on the edge of black rock, the next, the ground was gone. I was plummeting through a void of screaming winds and jagged shadows, my body tumbling over and over. Then, the ground rushed up to meet me—not solid earth, but a sea of upturned, wooden stakes. I hit them with a wet, sickening crunch, the wood piercing my body from a dozen different angles. I felt my own blood, hot and thick, gurgle in my throat as my vision tunneled into blackness.I jolted awake in my bed, my own strangled gasp echoing in the quiet room. My sheets were soaked with sweat, my heart hammering a frantic, terrified rhythm against my ribs. It was the third time this week. The nightmares were getting worse, more vivid, more creative.Last week, I had been burned alive, tied to a pyre while faceless chanted in a language I didn't recognize. The week before, I had drowned in a river of my own blood, unable to stop the flow from a wound in my gut

Ardonis point of view.It's not chemicals," she muttered, stopping to tap a pen against her chin. "The last trial proved that. The cellular rejection is too aggressive.But It’s also not a poison we can counteract. It's a rewrite. The cure might not be chemical... it could be genetic. But to even begin to map that, we need more data. We need to study another case."She stopped and looked at me, her expression a mixture of hope and desperation. "Ardonis. Do you know anyone? Another vampire who might be suffering from this? Anyone we could contact to help?"I almost laughed. "You're joking, right? us Vampires are secretive, Nyra. We're wary of humans on our best day. We certainly don't line up to be lab rats for doctors. They’re not all as desperate as me you know." I saw the flicker of hurt in her eyes and sighed. "No. I can't think of anyone."But as I said the words, a memory surfaced from the depths of my mind, the faint ghost of a conversation from decades ago. An old recluse, a he

Xaviers point of view.The file sat on my desk, a physical manifestation of the poison infecting Nyra's life.I had forwarded the messages her father sent to a secure terminal, and seeing them lined up, the timestamps creeping closer and closer together, made my blood boil. The demands were ridiculously exorbitant, climbing into the millions with each subsequent text. Wire the funds. Or else. He was bleeding her dry, preying on her guilt and her fear. It was fucking parasitic.A sharp knock on my office door pulled me from my seething thoughts. "Come in."Marcus, the private investigator I'd hired, walked in. He was a quiet man, unassuming, with eyes that missed nothing."Did you find anything?" I asked, skipping the pleasantries.Marcus placed a slim folder on the desk. "We got lucky. The father used one of the burner phones to place a delivery order near the waterfront. It wasn't encrypted like his usual digital trails."I opened the folder. There was a grainy photo of a man who lo

Ardonis’ point of view.I was so exhausted. I had spent the entire night reading or rather trying to read the giant book I got from the archives. I had to stay awake before my supervisor Ross finds me sleeping on the job.I can’t take any more humiliation at this company. The book pages mocked me with their indecipherable scrawl. Vampiric Death and Rebirth. It sounded like the title of a bad fiction novel, yet here I was, living the nightmare it described. I had been staring at the same passage for three hours, trying to crack the ancient dialect. It was a cipher within a cipher, guarding secrets I wasn't even sure I wanted to know.My mind brainstormed theories. The nightmares—dying over and over—were they just symptoms of a diseased brain, or memories of a past or a future yet to come? And what about my father? He had vanished when I was barely a teenager, gone without a trace. Was his disappearance connected to this "rebirth" sickness?And then there was Nyra. It always came bac