All Chapters of Pregnant With My Twin Sister’s Fiancé’s Baby: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Vivian walked into the living room holding the dossier like it was a dirty diaper. She held it by the corner, arm extended, her nose wrinkled in distaste.Aria followed her, Emma clutched tight to her chest. The distance between them was ten feet of expensive Persian rug, but it felt like a minefield."I expected many things from you, Aria," Vivian said. She dropped the report onto the coffee table. It landed with a heavy thud. "Protectiveness. Suspicion. Even rudeness. But this?"She gestured to the papers."This is invasive. It's tawdry.""It's the truth," Aria said. Her voice was steady, though her heart hammered against her ribs. She shifted Emma to her hip. "You were married to Edward Vance in 1995. You married Richard West in 1996. You didn't divorce Vance until 1999."Vivian sighed. She sat on the sofa, crossing her legs. She looked at Aria with the disappointed patience of a teacher correcting a slow student."Bigamy," Aria said, stepping closer. "You committed bigamy. Which m

The grandfather clock in the hallway was loud.Tick. Tock.It was a antique piece Noah’s father had bought at auction in London. Usually, the sound blended into the background of the penthouse, a rhythmic heartbeat that signified stability. Now, it sounded like a countdown.Tick. Tock.Aria sat at the dining table. Twenty-four hours had passed since she sent the scans to Dr. Halloway. Twenty-four hours left to wait.Noah sat at the head of the table. He was pushing a piece of sea bass around his plate. He hadn’t eaten much since his mother arrived. He looked tired, the skin under his eyes bruised with fatigue, but there was a softness to his posture that hadn't been there before. He believed her. He believed he was safe.Vivian sat to his right. She was eating with gusto.Clink. Her fork hit the china.Scrape. Her knife slid against the porcelain.The sounds were sharp, metallic intrusions in the quiet room."The fish is excellent," Vivian said. She dabbed her mouth with a linen napki

The silence in the study wasn't empty. It was pressurized.Noah stood behind the desk, his chest heaving, his hands gripping the mahogany edge until his knuckles turned white. He looked like a man who had just survived a car crash—shocked, adrenaline-flooded, violent."Ten minutes," Noah repeated. His voice was a low growl. "Pack your bags."Aria watched Vivian. She expected tears. She expected begging. She expected the "misunderstood mother" routine to ramp up into hysteria.Vivian didn't move. She didn't cry.Slowly, deliberately, she smoothed the fabric of her trousers. Her hands, which had been fluttering with performative anxiety for days, went perfectly, terrifyingly still.She looked up. Her face had changed. The softness around her eyes vanished. The trembling chin stabilized. It was like watching a wax figure melt, revealing the steel armature underneath."You really are your father's son," Vivian said. Her voice had dropped an octave. It was no longer the wavering soprano of

Don't look for me.The words on the hotel stationery seemed to vibrate, detaching themselves from the paper and searing into Aria's retinas.She didn't scream. She didn't collapse. The shock that had frozen her moments ago shattered, replaced by a surge of adrenaline so violent it made her hands shake."You coward," she whispered to the empty room. "You absolute coward."She crushed the note in her fist and threw it onto the bed.She grabbed her phone. She dialed Noah.Straight to voicemail."Damn it."She dialed again. And again. The mechanical voice telling her to leave a message mocked her. The subscriber you have called is not available.He wasn't unavailable. He was erasing himself.Aria ran to the closet. She grabbed a bag—not for clothes, but for essentials. Wallet. Keys. Chargers. She moved with the efficiency of a soldier breaking camp.She needed to find him. Now. Before the "figure out who I am" phase turned into something permanent.But where? He had left his phone. He had

The fluorescent lights of the gas station bathroom buzzed like an angry insect. The air smelled of industrial bleach and old gasoline. It was a stark, dirty contrast to the pristine marble bathrooms of the penthouse, but it was the only place Aria felt safe enough to find out the truth.Noah was in the car, pumping gas into the Jeep. He looked like a ghost—pale, hollow-eyed, his movements slow and deliberate. He hadn't spoken since they left the cabin. He hadn't asked why they were stopping.Aria sat on the closed toilet lid. Her hands were shaking.On the sink counter, a white plastic stick sat on a paper towel.Two minutes. The box said to wait two minutes.Aria stared at the timer on her phone. 1:45. 1:44.She felt the nausea again, a low, rolling wave in her gut. It wasn't just stress. She knew that now. It was the specific, metallic queasiness she remembered from the early days with Emma.But this was impossible. They were careful. After Emma, they had agreed to wait. NeXus was e