All Chapters of Pregnant For My Husband's Enemy: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The rain lashed against the panoramic windows of the Vance estate, mirroring the storm brewing in my chest. I stood before the full-length mirror, smoothing the emerald silk of a dress that cost more than my father’s medical bills for a year. It was backless, dangerous, and utterly unlike me."You look breathtaking, Evie."Julian’s voice was smooth, like expensive scotch, but his eyes remained fixed on the reflection of his own cufflinks. He didn't look at me with the warmth of a husband of five years. He looked at me the way a man looks at a winning lottery ticket he’s about to cash in."Julian, I don't feel right about this," I whispered, my fingers trembling as I reached for my pearls. "Killian Blackwood is a monster. Everyone knows he’s been trying to dismantle Vance Global for years. Why would he agree to a 'friendly' dinner now?"Julian finally stepped toward me, his hands gripping my shoulders. His touch, once my sanctuary, felt strangely clinical. "Because he’s a man, Evelyn.

The first light of morning was not a herald of hope; it was a cold, grey blade cutting through the heavy velvet curtains of Killian Blackwood’s master suite. I lay perfectly still, my eyes tracing the intricate carvings on the ceiling, afraid that if I moved, the fragile glass of my reality would shatter into a million jagged pieces.Beside me, the bed was vast and cold. Killian was gone.If it weren't for the lingering scent of cedarwood and the dull ache in my soul, I might have convinced myself the night was a fever dream. But the weight in my chest was real. The memory of his hands, his whispered promises of a different life, and the terrifying way I had responded to him—it was all etched into my skin like a brand.I sat up, clutching the silk sheets to my chest. My emerald dress lay in a heap on the floor, looking like a dead thing in the morning light. Nearby, on a polished mahogany valet, sat a fresh set of clothes. Not mine. Expensive, minimalist, and undoubtedly picked out by

The silence of the Vance mansion was a suffocating shroud. I moved through the darkened hallway with my breath held tight in my chest, every creak of the floorboards sounding like a thunderclap in the dead of night. I carried nothing but a small silk clutch containing my passport, the grainy ultrasound photo, and the burner phone Killian’s man had slipped into my hand during the chaos of the gala’s end.I didn't take the diamonds. I didn't take the designer clothes. Those were the chains Julian had used to tether me to his sinking ship, and I wanted to leave them behind like a molted skin.As I reached the grand staircase, I paused, looking toward the heavy oak doors of the master suite. Behind them, Julian was dead to the world, blissfully unaware that the "trophy" he had so carelessly traded was walking out of his life forever. A week ago, the thought of leaving would have terrified me. Tonight, staying was the only thing that felt like death.I slipped out the service entrance, the

The flashbulbs were a blinding, synchronized assault. Even behind the dark designer sunglasses Killian’s team had provided, the light pierced through, turning the world into a fractured blur of white and grey.The steps of the state courthouse were swarming. Dozens of reporters, camera crews, and curious onlookers had choked the plaza, tipped off by a single, untraceable press release from Blackwood Industries. Julian’s media spin had been masterful—painting himself as the devastated patriarch whose pregnant wife had been torn from their home—but Killian was about to hijack the narrative completely."Stay close, Little Bird," Killian’s voice was a low, steady anchor over the rising din of the crowd.His large hand was firmly planted on the small of my back, guiding me through the sea of lenses. He wore a dark, impeccably tailored three-piece suit, looking less like a man defending himself against a kidnapping charge and more like a monarch reclaiming his territory.As we reached the b

The meeting was set for seven o'clock. By six forty-five, the entire thirty-second floor of Blackwood Tower had been cleared of everyone except Marcus, two lawyers whose names I had already forgotten, and a security operative who stood just inside the elevator bay with the stillness of a man who had hurt people professionally and felt no particular way about it.I was not supposed to be there.Killian had told me, with the same quiet authority he used for all his commands, to rest. He had said the word in the way wealthy men say words they consider final—gently, as one might tell a child the stove was hot. Rest, Evelyn. As if I were a piece of expensive machinery he was placing in storage until he needed it again.I had nodded. I had gone to the guest room. I had looked at the city sprawling forty floors below and felt the blue diamond press cold and heavy against my finger.Then I had put on the soft grey cashmere blazer hanging in the wardrobe, smoothed my hair, and taken the privat