The four walls of the Vane tower penthouse had begun to feel less like a multi-million-dollar sanctuary and more like a beautifully polished, high-tech cage. For three days, the "Maternity Protocol" had dictated my existence. My movements were measured in steps away from the biometric core, my food was clinically screened by an unbribable culinary detail, and the air I breathed was filtered to hospital-grade purity. Xavier’s overprotective madness had turned into a living, breathing entity that threatened to smother me.By Tuesday afternoon, the Ice Queen was reaching her breaking point."If I have to drink one more glass of warm, unpasteurized milk or read another manual on embryonic development, Xavier, I am going to throw myself off the balcony," I had told him that morning, my hands planted firmly on my hips as I glared at him across the marble kitchen island.Xavier had paused, his dark eyes raking over my frame with that characteristic, unhinged obsession. He had eventually rele
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