All Chapters of Crave Me,Daddy's Good Girl: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

**Chapter 120: Murder Charge**The holding cell smelled of concrete, regret, and stale coffee. I sat across from Damien on a cold metal bench, separated by thick plexiglass, my hands pressed flat against the barrier as if I could reach through and touch him. My body ached under the strain of carrying two pregnancies at once. Twenty-nine weeks with our third daughter, barely ten weeks with our fourth. I looked every bit the exhausted, heavily pregnant woman the tabloids now called “The Widow in Waiting.”Damien looked like a god who had been dragged through hell. Fresh stitches across his arm, bruises blooming along his jaw and ribs, prison scrubs hanging on his still-powerful frame. The ankle monitor had been replaced by full custody cuffs. His gray eyes burned with barely contained fury as they locked onto mine.“They’re charging me with first-degree murder,” he said, voice low and controlled. “Marcus’s death was clean self-defense. They know it. But Victor and Lilith have the DA in

**Chapter 123: Fractured Truths**The penthouse had become a luxurious medical sanctuary. Soft lighting, constant monitoring machines humming in the background, and the faint scent of lavender from the diffuser Damien insisted on. I had been on strict bed rest for eleven days now. My body felt like an overripe fruit — heavy, swollen, and constantly aching under the dual burden of two pregnancies. Twenty-nine weeks with our third daughter. Twelve weeks with our fourth.I was enormous. And exhausted.Damien refused to leave my side for more than an hour at a time. He worked from the armchair beside our bed, issuing commands in that low, authoritative voice that still made my pulse race. The twins spent most of their waking hours in our room now — playing on a massive soft mat, crawling over their father, occasionally patting my belly like it was their personal drum.“Dada,” Dami babbled proudly, smashing two blocks together before crawling onto Damien’s lap.Seraphina was more gentle. S

**Chapter 125: The Weight of Secrets**The penthouse felt like a beautiful prison.I had been confined to this bed for sixteen days now. My body was a monument to Damien’s obsession — stretched tight with two growing lives, heavy breasts constantly leaking, back aching, ankles swollen. The monitors strapped across my massive belly tracked two heartbeats around the clock. Our third daughter was strong at thirty weeks. Our fourth was smaller, more fragile at thirteen weeks. Dr. Marquez visited daily and looked more worried each time.I stared at the city skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows, one hand resting on the upper curve of my belly, the other lower where the newest life fluttered weakly. Damien sat in the armchair beside me, reviewing documents with a scowl. The twins were napping in their nursery under heavy guard.“You’re quiet today,” he said without looking up. His voice was still that velvet command that made my body respond even now.“I’m thinking,” I replied softly

**Chapter 127: Poisoned Truths**The private medical suite felt more like a cage with every passing hour.I was thirty-two weeks with our third daughter and fourteen weeks with our fourth. My body had become a battlefield — stretched beyond limits, constantly monitored, aching in ways I didn’t know were possible. The doctors had finally ruled out immediate selective reduction, but the smaller baby remained fragile. Every time the heart rate monitor dipped, my soul fractured a little more.Damien had barely slept in days. He hovered constantly, issuing commands to doctors, Kane, and security like a war general. Right now, he was in the connected office on a tense video call, his voice low and lethal as he dealt with the latest board defections.I took the opportunity.With trembling fingers, I sent the confirmation message to Lilith:**Isla: 2:00 p.m. today. Virtual. Secure line.**Her reply was instant: **Good girl.**I hated that those words from her felt like betrayal.At exactly 2:

**Chapter 129: Lines in the Sand**The magnesium drip burned through my veins like liquid fire.I lay on my left side in the medical suite, thirty-three weeks and five days with our third daughter, fifteen weeks with our fourth. My belly felt like it had doubled in size overnight — tight, heavy, and constantly contracting in weak, warning waves. The fetal monitors showed our stronger daughter kicking vigorously while the smaller one’s heartbeat remained too slow, too uncertain.Damien hadn’t left my side in days. He looked like a man on the edge of violence — unshaven, eyes bloodshot, powerful body coiled with tension. Right now, he was pacing slowly at the foot of the bed, cane abandoned, one hand clenched at his side.“You’re not going,” he said for the fifth time, voice low and dangerous. “Lilith is a venomous snake. Meeting her is suicide.”I shifted slightly, wincing at the pull in my lower back. “She has the final files, Damien. The ones that could destroy Victor’s case and expo