I ordered a baby daddy, not a crazy billionaire. のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 19

❤️Sophie❤️ I stare at him like I heard him wrong. Did he just threaten me? I’m the one in need of a baby daddy, I should be the one doing the ordering here. Not some crazy billionaire who makes everyone around him breathless. This man has to be kidding me. I step back and face him, folding my arms stubbornly. “No.” His brow rises suspiciously, “No?” I nod, “Yes. You don’t get to order me around. I’m a pregnant woman, you should learn to treat us nicely. And secondly, this is insane. You are not who I ordered. Definitely not you. I'm sure the guy is your younger brother, are you covering for him because he’s shy?” He watches me without saying a thing. I carefully wipe the wine off my face, I’m not about to give him the satisfaction of thinking I'm an annoying college student. “Please help me to call my baby daddy, tell him I don’t mind if he’s shy. I would rather deal with a shy twenty-three-year-old man than a thirty-three-year-old billionaire who owns half the city.” “ I’m sh

❤️Sophie❤️ I stare at the screen for so long my vision begins to blur. “He texted again?” Sandy asks. I nod weakly. “What did he say?” Without speaking, I hand her the phone. She reads the message once. Then twice, slowly she looks at me. “He’s not chasing you. He’s waiting.” “I noticed.” She gives the phone back. “Sophie.” I already know what she wants to say. “No.” “You have to go back. You don't have a choice.” “I hate when people keep saying that.” “Because it’s true.” I close my eyes. For the first time today, I feel tired. Everything happened too fast. Six weeks ago, I had a boyfriend. I was happy, even though everything I knew was based on lies. My throat tightens. At least…. I was happy. Now I'm pregnant. About to lose my family. And worst of all, I'm considering marrying the coldest billionaire in the city. Who even writes my life? “You know what bothers me?” “What?” “He’s not even trying to convince me.” Sandy shrugs. “He doesn't look like a man who begs. H

☠️Adrian☠️ Some revenge takes days, some takes months. Mine? It took years. Years of planning, years of waiting, years of craving the right moment to strike. Patience is a weapon. The kind that makes your enemy crumble slowly without realizing it, and when he finally does, it will be too late. Most men mistake it for weakness. They don't realize it’s far more satisfying to watch an enemy destroy himself than to pull the trigger too early. I watch Sophie disappear from the hotel. The marriage certificate slips into the lawyer’s briefcase without a word. No congratulations. No questions. Exactly how I want it. “Everything will be filed by tomorrow morning, Mr. Blackwood.” I nod once and walk away. The executive lounge falls silent behind me as bodyguards close in around me. Outside, a black Rolls-Royce Phantom waits at the entrance. One guard opens the door. I slide inside. “To the vault.” “Yes, sir.” The convoy pulls away from the Blackstone Hotel, but instead of h

❤️Sophie❤️ I don't think I ever really sleep. At some point, I close my eyes, but every time I drift off, I dream of contracts, kidnapping, annoying billionaires, and my father throwing my suitcase out onto the street. By the time sunlight slips through the curtains, I already have a headache. A loud knock lands on my bedroom door. “Sophie!” Dad’s voice echoes through the hallway. “It’s seven thirty.” “ I know what time it is!” “ Good. Then don't make your boyfriend wait.” “ I highly doubt he’s the one waiting.” “ Seven forty-five.” “ I heard you the last time!” Footsteps fade away, and I flop back onto my pillow. “I'm going to die.” Five minutes later, Mom walks in carrying breakfast. “You should eat.” “ I’d rather panic.” She sighs. “Your father has been pacing the living room since six.” “Has he always been this dramatic?” “ He ironed the tablecloth.” I sit upright. “That was a joke, right?” “ I wish it were, but no—that’s not the end. He polished

❤️Sophie❤️ For a moment, no one says anything. The dining room falls into a strange silence as my father’s question hangs in the air. “When should we begin planning the wedding?” My heartbeat stutters. Wedding? I thought we were discussing breakfast, not planning the fastest marriage in history. I slowly turn my head toward Adrian. Don't answer. Please don't. Think about it. Pretend you didn't hear him. Lose your hearing for five seconds. Adrian calmly folds his napkin and places it beside his plate. “The day after tomorrow.” The orange juice in my hand almost slips. “What?” I squeak. Every pair of eyes turns toward me—wonderful. Now I look like the only person who wasn't informed about my own wedding. Adrian finally looks at me. “Is there a problem?” There are approximately three thousand problems. But my parents are watching. I force a smile so painful my cheeks begin to ache. “N…no.” Dad beams. “Excellent.” Mom clasps her hands together. “Oh, that’s wonderful.” Wonde