All Chapters of A Christmas Baby for the Cowboy Billionaire: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

93 Chapters

50. Marco Hill

The smell of wet earth always calms me down.After the ride with the guests, guiding the horses back to the stables feels almost like a closing ritual for the day. They move calmly, as if they also know the work is done, that now it’s time to rest. Tornado tosses his head when I remove the saddle, snorting softly, impatient only to reach his feed.“Good job, boy,” I murmur, running my hand along his strong neck.Beside me, Lucas does the same with the horse he led during the ride. He’s worked with me for years. More than an employee, he’s become a friend. The kind who doesn’t need to ask much to notice when something has changed.“You’re different,” he says, out of nowhere, while hanging the saddle on its hook.I don’t stop what I’m doing.“Different how?”“Lighter,” he answers. “I don’t know… less closed off.”I l

Last Updated : 2026-02-09

51. Fióna Carijó

I am a respectable hen, with well-kept feathers, a sharp sense of territory, and an observational ability no human on this ranch should ever underestimate.And if there is one thing I can say with absolute certainty, it is this:my human is in trouble.It all started on a morning when he forgot to close the pasture gate.That never happens.Marco is the kind of human who checks if something is locked three times, then checks again just to be sure, and once more because peace of mind matters. But that morning, he walked away whistling some strange tune—completely out of key, I might add—and left the gate wide open as if his head was… somewhere else.I observed from atop a pile of hay, eating a bug and silently judging.Then came the singing.My human does not sing. He grumbles, mutters, sometimes talks to himself when he thinks no one is listening. But singing? Never.And there he was, right in the middle of the corral, singing something entirely wrong, messing up the lyrics, making up

Last Updated : 2026-02-09

52. Alice Benette

The sound of a pencil scratching against paper catches my attention before I even understand what Marco is doing.I’m sitting at the small table in the cabin, a cup of tea already cold between my hands, when I notice him walking back and forth, measuring walls, frowning, murmuring numbers almost under his breath. There’s a sheet of paper resting on the kitchen counter, covered in crooked lines, arrows, and notes I can’t decipher at first glance.— If we knock down this wall here… — he says, more to himself than to me, pointing at the divider between the bedroom and the improvised little office — we’d gain almost a meter and a half.I lift my gaze slowly, following his gesture.— A meter and a half for what? — I ask, without irony, just curious.Marco turns toward me with a half-smile, the kind he gives when he’s trying not to look too anxious. He runs a hand through his hair, takes a deep breath, and keeps moving, as if his body needs to keep up with the pace of his thoughts.— To mak

Last Updated : 2026-02-09

53. Marco Hill

The ranch office had never felt so small.Maybe it wasn’t the size of the room that had changed — maybe it was the weight of what was about to happen. The massive wooden desk, inherited from my father, seemed heavy with history, but at that moment it held something different: neatly arranged folders, an open laptop, and a silence broken only by the distant sounds of horses in the paddock.Alice sat beside me.I could feel the warmth of her body even without touching her. Her presence kept me grounded, although I knew that, for her, this moment demanded far more strength. Ever since the lawyer confirmed the preparatory meeting for the conciliation hearing, I had been mentally preparing myself to step into a role I had never imagined occupying.It wasn’t just about protecting her.It was about leading.The door opened after two firm knocks, and Henrique walked in carrying a dark leather briefcase. He had the kind of posture t

Last Updated : 2026-02-10

54. Alice Benette

If someone had told me a few months ago that I would be sitting inside a ranch office, planning marketing strategies while pregnant with twins and surrounded by people who were slowly becoming my family, I probably would have laughed — nervously — and changed the subject.Yet there I was.Morning light spilled generously through the wide windows, painting golden rectangles across the wooden floor. Outside, the fields stretched endlessly, dotted with horses moving in calm rhythm, as if the world itself breathed more slowly there.On my laptop screen, the presentation was nearly complete.“Return to the Roots — Where Memories Are Born.”I reread the tagline for the fifth time, tapping my pen lightly against my chin.The idea was simple, but powerful: while other hotels chased modernity and sterile luxury, we would offer something increasingly rare — emotional experience. Fireplaces lit at du

Last Updated : 2026-02-10

55. Marco Hill

The silence of the night envelops the cabin like a heavy, soft blanket. After the chaos of the day, the tension of dinner in the barn, that social performance we both had to keep up, the air inside the living room finally feels breathable. I feel the fatigue in my bones, but it’s a different kind of tiredness—one accompanied by the relief of having her here, just us again. Alice is sitting on the couch, legs tucked in, eyes lost in the fire dancing in the fireplace. I see the shadow of anxiety still hovering over her shoulders. I sit down beside her slowly, as if approaching a frightened animal. “Today was long,” I say, my voice low, almost a whisper. She nods without looking. I don’t speak anymore. Instead, I let my hand slide over the couch until I find hers. I intertwine our fingers, firmly. Then, with my other hand, I begin to caress her belly over the soft fabric of

Last Updated : 2026-02-11

56. Alice Benette

The smell of freshly brewed coffee still lingered in the kitchen when Rosa cupped my face between her hands. Her palms were warm, calloused by time and work, and there was something deeply ceremonial about the way she held me — as if she were trying to memorize my features before letting us walk into whatever waited beyond the ranch gates.“Go with God, niña,” she murmured softly, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “And remember… those who walk in truth never walk alone.”My throat tightened instantly.I didn’t trust my voice enough to answer.The truth was, my stomach had been twisted into knots since the night before. No amount of rest had been able to quiet the anxiety humming under my skin, and now it sat heavy in my chest, pulsing with every heartbeat.Marco pulled

Last Updated : 2026-02-11

57. Alice Benette

Morning unfolded slowly over the ranch, as if the day had decided not to rush into existence. A thin veil of mist still drifted across the fields, softening the fences in the distance and turning the hills into gentle, almost unreal silhouettes. I opened my eyes before the alarm rang and remained still for a few seconds, just listening. Silence was never absolute there — there was always the rustle of leaves, the faint creak of wood, the uneven song of some early bird — but it was a living silence, welcoming, nothing like the kind that had once felt unbearably lonely.The warm weight around my waist made me smile before I even turned my head.Marco’s arm remained firmly wrapped around me, even in sleep, as if unconsciously he refused to let me slip away. I shifted carefully so I wouldn’t wake him, but the movement was enough for him to draw a deeper breath and pull me closer, fitting his face into the curve of my neck.“Already tryi

Last Updated : 2026-02-12

58. Marco Hill

Marco had always believed he understood pressure.He had negotiated land disputes that could have turned violent, stared down men twice his size without blinking, buried family members while holding everyone else together, and carried the silent responsibility of being the one others leaned on when things threatened to fall apart. Pressure, to him, had always been something external — a storm you faced head-on.But nothing, absolutely nothing, had prepared him for the quiet terror of a dim ultrasound room.The lights were low, intentionally softened so the screen would glow brighter. Machines hummed with clinical indifference, their steady rhythm completely detached from the chaos building inside his chest. The faint antiseptic smell clung to the air, sharp and sterile, making the space feel colder than it probably was.Alice lay on the examination table, her fingers wrapped tightly around his hand. Her grip was stronger than usual — not despe

Last Updated : 2026-02-12

59. Alice Benete

A week can be far too long when you are living in expectation.The days passed as though the world had lowered its volume — not truly silent, but muffled, restrained, as if someone had placed cotton between reality and me. Every morning I woke, took a deep breath, rested my hand on my belly, and mentally counted the beats of my own heart before remembering there were now two others depending on it.Marco and Rosa did not leave my side for a single moment.Rosa began appearing throughout the day with different teas, each one accompanied by an old explanation — the kind woven from faith, tradition, and care. She never spoke of fear. Never. She spoke of strength, of rest, of trusting the body and time. Sometimes she would sit beside me without saying a word, gently stroking my hair, as if she understood that some pains do not ask for language.Marco… Marco shifted the rhythm of his entire life without announcement. He took on tasks he once delegated, canceled meetings, and watched me wit

Last Updated : 2026-02-17

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