All Chapters of Carrying An Heir For The Wrong Billionaire : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

CONRAD Gavin went rigid for a moment, staring at me, his eyes unblinking. “The investment… was a great idea,” he said, his voice a little too loud. Strained even. "My company is doing much better than before and more investors are… are wanting to work with me.” He forced a smile on his face that didn't quite match his act. I noticed the tremor in his voice, the way he felt uneasy as he spoke. I inhaled deeply, trying endlessly to dismiss the eerie feeling in me. I remained silent, my piercing gaze fixed in him. Just then, Gavin cleared his throat, a sudden urgency in his demeanor. “Conrad, I really have to go now." His voice was low. Lower than usual. “I still have loads of meetings to attend. I'll come some other time, right?" He stood abruptly, moving towards the door, his steps quick. With a glance back at me, he smiled stiffly, slipping out and closing the door behind him. I sighed, a weary sound, shaking my head slowly. I tried to push away the unsettling thought in my

AMELIA I stared at Conrad, my gaze still. His expression shifted, faint but noticeable. “I mean, what if Mr Pierre's death wasn't natural," I repeated, my voice as low as a whisper. “What will you do then?" His shoulders tensed. He turned his back to me, walking to his drawer, the first aid kit in his hand. “I won't care," he said, his tone flat, as though he was reciting a line from a script. “He's already dead, so why will I bother?" The words landed like a stone on my chest. Yet, I could hear the faint crack in his voice as he spoke. How unsure he was of his words. He was in denial. Clearly. I stood, my feet unsteady on the floor. “Thank you," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. He didn't respond or turned to look at me. He simply nodded once then entered the bathroom, closing the door shut. I strolled back to my own room, the door clicking shut behind me. I slid out of my silk black dress, and entered the bathroom, letting the cold water wash me and ease the tension

AMELIA Irene stood, walking towards me, then settled on the other side of the bed across from the window, facing me. “Amelia, I've been waiting," she said, still smiling. I fixed my gaze on her, silent for a moment, then inhaled and walked closer to her. As much as I didn't want to see her or want her to be here, I couldn't let my personal life interfere with my professional life. "How can I help you, Mrs Dawson?” I asked, my tone calm. Irene waved her hand in the air, shaking her head. "You can just call me Irene. After all, we know each other, right?" I didn't respond. I just stared at her, waiting for her to state her problem. Then, she brought her right hand forward, turning her wrist to me. "I hurt myself badly, so I wanted you to help me dress it. It's a deep cut." I tilted my head slightly, frowning. She had a cut, and couldn't allow another nurse to dress it for her? She had to call for me? Who told her I worked here though? Whatever. I would just dress her wound

CONRAD I sat at my desk, going through confidential documents of the company, the cool breeze from the open windows filling the office. A soft knock sounded on my door immediately. I looked up at the door, closing the document. “Come in," I said. The door opened, and Harry, my personal assistant, walked inside briskly. He held out a file towards me. "Mr Pierre, this is the records of the company in Norway you requested me to take a look at. I've arranged the potential investments and investors that connected with the company recently.” His voice was sharp and professional. I glanced at the file, taking it from him. He had already done the job, so quickly. "Thank you. You may leave.” He bowed slightly, then left the room, closing the door gently behind him. I stared at the file. I finally had it. I desperately hoped I was wrong in my thoughts. I took out the papers from the file, spreading it out on my desk. Just as I was about to go through the contents, my phone rang. I pi

CONRAD I entered the private room, closing the door gently behind me. The doctor had left me to be alone with the child. As I strolled closer to the child, gazing down at his small, fragile body. For the first time, I was really seeing him well. There were mild scratches and bruises on Noah's tiny hands, legs and face. I felt a sharp sting in my heart as I gazed at him. My chest suddenly felt heavy with guilt. I didn't know why I felt this guilt, but it pierced me. I had never felt this way before, and it was disturbing. The child's features, so delicate, stirred emotions within me. I could really see the striking resemblance now. And his vulnerability. He was really a reminder of me during childhood. I stood there, unsure of what to do or say. He was still unconscious and had refused to wake up. Maybe it was because of the accident. It might have caused a trauma to him. I tried to reach my hand to his face, to massage his cheeks or offer him some comfort, but my hands remaine