บททั้งหมดของ Pregnant With My Twin Sister’s Fiancé’s Baby: บทที่ 121 - บทที่ 130

The sound of rolling wheels on marble shattered the Sunday morning silence.Aria froze in the kitchen, her hand hovering over the coffee grinder. She looked at Noah. He was at the breakfast bar, staring at his tablet, but his eyes weren't moving. He had heard it too.The elevator dinged. It wasn't the service elevator. It was the private penthouse access."You changed the codes," Aria said. It wasn't a question."Last night," Noah said. He stood up. His shoulders were tight. "After she left."The heavy oak doors swung open. They weren't forced. They were unlocked.Vivian West stood in the foyer. She wasn't wearing the cream suit from yesterday. She wore a traveling coat and dark sunglasses. Behind her stood two Louis Vuitton trunks."The codes were a nice try, Noah," Vivian said. She pushed her sunglasses up into her silver hair. "But your father always used his birthday. I assumed you would use Emma's."Noah walked into the hallway. He didn't stop until he was two feet from her. "Get

The city lights outside the floor-to-ceiling windows were cold. They didn't twinkle; they glared, hard white dots against the black canvas of 3:00 AM.Aria sat on the edge of the oversized beige sectional. Her wedding ring clicked against the diamond of her engagement band as she twisted it. Left. Right. Left. Right. It was a nervous tic she thought she’d abandoned years ago.The penthouse was silent. Not the peaceful silence of a sleeping home, but the heavy, pressurized silence of a waiting room.Noah had been gone for six hours.His phone still sat on the marble kitchen island, a black slab of glass reflecting the under-cabinet lighting. He had left without it. He had left without a coat. He had left without a word.Aria looked at the hallway leading to the guest room. The door was shut. No light seeped from underneath. Vivian West was sleeping—or pretending to—while her son dismantled himself somewhere in the dark.Aria stood up. She paced to the window. Her reflection ghosted ove

The spoon hit the side of the porcelain teacup. Clink.Vivian West stirred the Earl Grey. She moved the spoon in a perfect circle, never touching the bottom, never making a splash. She sat at the head of the dining table, her posture straight, her silk blouse unwrinkled.Noah sat to her right. He was slumped over the table, staring at the steam rising from his cup. He looked like a man who had been awake for three days. His hair was still damp from the shower, but he hadn't shaved. The dark stubble made his face look gaunt.Aria stood by the window. She held a mug of black coffee with both hands. She wasn't drinking it. She was watching."Drink, Noah," Vivian said softly. "It will help with the shock."Noah picked up the cup. His hand trembled. He took a sip. He grimaced—he hated bergamot—but he swallowed it anyway."You said you were dying," Noah said. His voice was rough. "Is that why you came back? To clear your conscience?"Vivian stopped stirring. She placed the spoon on the sauc

"Run," Aria whispered.She tugged on Noah's arm. He didn't move. He stood rooted to the hallway carpet, his eyes fixed on the sliver of space between the door and the frame."Noah," she hissed. "We have to go.""No," Noah said. His voice wasn't loud. It was dead.He reached out and pushed the heavy oak door open.Inside, Vivian West and Dr. Aris turned. They looked like conspirators caught counting the loot. Dr. Aris adjusted her glasses. Vivian didn't even blink."Noah," Vivian said. She sounded relieved. "You came back. Good. Running away only proves the doctor's point."Noah walked into the room. He didn't look at the therapist. He looked at his mother."Weak," Noah said.Vivian tilted her head. "I beg your pardon?""You told her I was weak," Noah said. "Just like my father.""I said you were vulnerable," Vivian corrected smoothly. "I was giving the doctor context.""I heard you," Noah said. "Through the door. 'Weak when it matters.'"Vivian sighed. She stood up from the loveseat,

The printer in Aria's home office hummed, a rhythmic chug-chug-slide that sounded obscenely loud in the quiet house.Aria stood over it, catching the pages as they slid into the tray. They were still warm.Kenji hadn’t sent the file digitally. He’d sent a courier with a hard drive, encrypted with a key he’d texted her separately. He didn’t trust the cloud. Not with this.Sunlight slanted through the blinds, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. They swirled in lazy, chaotic patterns, indifferent to the fact that the paper beneath them contained the demolition of a man’s life.Aria carried the stack to her desk. She sat down. She didn't want to look.She forced herself to look.The dossier was organized chronologically. A timeline of predation.1990. Marriage Certificate. Vivian Stirling to Thomas Blackwood, oil heir.1992. Birth Certificate. Julian Blackwood.1994. Divorce Decree. Settlement: $15 million. Custody: Sole custody to Thomas Blackwood.Aria traced the name Julian