All Chapters of Pregnant by Two Secrets: My Ex and His Father: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Elara didn’t let go right away.She held Sloane like she was afraid the moment might slip away if she loosened her grip.When they finally pulled back… just enough to see each other’s faces… Elara’s eyes were bright with tears, but her smile was steady.“You’re shaking,” Elara said softly.Sloane laughed… small, self-conscious.“I’m always shaking lately. It’s like my body hasn’t caught up with the fact that I’m allowed to feel safe.”Elara’s expression softened further.She wiped a tear from Sloane’s cheek with her thumb.“You are allowed. You’ve always been allowed. We just… didn’t know how to tell you.”Sloane looked down at their joined hands.The morning light caught the faint scar on Elara’s knuckle… something from childhood, probably from climbing trees or roughhousing with Marcus. Sloane had no matching scars. Hers were invisible: the pressure of perfect posture, the ache of never being quite right, the slow burn of realizing she’d been living someone else’s story.“I used to

The rest of the family had been gently ushered out for the evening: Elara, Marcus, Sloane, and Lucy were at a local jazz club downtown, a spontaneous outing Ophelia had suggested with a conspiratorial wink. “Go make memories,” she’d told them at the door. “We need a night that’s just us.”Now the front door was locked.The lights were dimmed to a soft amber glow.And the dining room… usually formal and untouched… had been transformed.Ophelia had spent the afternoon alone in it.She’d dragged the long oak table closer to the windows that overlooked the garden.She’d draped it in a simple ivory linen cloth.She’d arranged mismatched glass jars down the center… each one holding a single white rose and a tea light candle.She’d strung fairy lights along the curtain rods so the room looked like it was breathing starlight.She’d set two places only… opposite each other, close enough that their knees would brush under the table.No china. No silver.Just everyday plates, two wine glasses, a

Marcus had planned every detail like it was a mission.Not because he was hiding.Because he was done hiding.He picked Sloane up from the estate at seven sharp.She stepped out in a simple black silk dress that skimmed her knees… elegant, understated, the kind of dress that made people look twice. Her hair was down in loose waves, minimal makeup, the small gold necklace he’d given her last week catching the porch light.She looked nervous.Beautiful.His.He got out of the car… black sedan, no driver tonight, just them.Opened the passenger door.She slid in.He leaned down before closing it.“You look like trouble,” he said, voice low.She smiled… small, shy, radiant.“You look like you’re up to something.”He grinned.“I am.”He drove them into the city.Not to some hidden, safe corner.To the heart of it.A rooftop restaurant in SoHo… glass railings, city lights sprawling below, live jazz soft in the background. Tables spaced far enough for privacy, but visible enough that no one

The elevator doors opened on the 72nd floor with a soft chime.Ophelia stepped out alone.Black tailored blazer, crisp white silk blouse, charcoal trousers, low heels that clicked with quiet authority on the marble. Hair swept into a low chignon. No jewelry except her wedding band and the diamond Chase had given her. The ring on her finger caught the overhead light, steady, unapologetic.She hadn’t been here since Lucien’s funeral.The board had expected her to stay away forever.They were wrong.Chase walked beside her, tall, calm, in a charcoal suit that matched hers. He didn’t hold her hand. He didn’t need to. His presence was enough, shoulder to shoulder, stride matched, eyes forward. The man who had waited twenty years to stand beside her, now literally and figuratively.The receptionist at the executive floor froze when she saw them.“Mrs. Sinclair…”Ophelia smiled, small, polite, lethal.“I’m expected.”The woman nodded quickly.Gestured toward the boardroom doors.They were al

The study was dark except for the single desk lamp and the blue glow from Chase’s laptop screen.The family had gathered here after dinner, quiet, tense, the air thick with the weight of Lucien’s video.Ophelia sat at the desk, staring at the frozen frame of Lucien’s face.Chase stood behind her, hands on her shoulders.Elara paced near the window.Marcus leaned against the bookshelf.Lucy sat in the armchair, knitting needles still, her face pale from the latest treatment.Sloane stood near the door.Watching.Listening.Trying to breathe through the knot in her chest.Chase had spent the last three hours tracing the poisoned accounts, offshore shells, layered through shell companies in the Caymans, Panama, Cyprus.Every transfer path led to the same trigger, Ophelia’s digital signature as chair.The moment she signed any major ethical restructuring document, the money would auto bleed into the dark web wallets Lucien had set up.48 hours later… gone.Untraceable.Funding horrors non