All Chapters of Pregnant By My Ex's Brother : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

DAMIEN By the time I got the car onto the main road the morning had already started without me, and that fact alone made every red light feel personal. Westbridge was across a stretch of the city I usually passed through without thinking, a corridor of ordinary buildings and early traffic and people with coffee in their hands who did not know they were sharing the street with a man trying not to be too late for a child he had only just learned existed. My mouth still tasted like metal from the fight. Marcus’s voice sat under everything else, repeating itself whether I wanted it to or not: this morning, this morning, this morning.I kept seeing Elena in pieces that refused to stay in the past where I had left them. The way she had gone pale in the office and called it nothing. The untouched food. The flinch on the waterfront when Marcus threw the rumor out like a joke. Her body angled away from me in the apartment, hand starting toward her stomach before she aborted the gesture. I ha

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said again, as if repeating it could force the morning into a different shape.I looked at him and felt the corridor tilt. The nurse had stopped a few feet away, uncertain whether she was witnessing a private emergency or the beginning of something she would have to call security for. Behind Damien, near the reception end, a woman had paused with a form in her hands. Somebody else was pretending not to listen by staring too hard at the wall. All of that registered in a dull peripheral way while the main fact ate through everything else: he knew. He was here. The one thing I had left that belonged only to me had been broken open.“You’re not wrong,” I said. My voice came out thin and furious. “And you still shouldn’t be here.”Something in his face flinched at the confirmation, then hardened. “You were going to do this without telling me.”“Yes.”“Elena.”“What did you want me to do?” The tears were already up, burning and immediate. I hated them, hated that my

We got out of the clinic without looking at anyone properly.The nurse said something about rescheduling, about calling if I needed support, and I nodded at the shape of the words because my throat was too tight to do more than that. Damien stayed close enough that I could feel him without being touched, a dark presence at my shoulder while the glass doors opened onto daylight that felt too bright for what had just happened. Outside, the morning continued like it had not watched a man kneel on clinic tile and a woman step away from an appointment with her face wet and her future undecided.He opened the car door for me. I got in because standing on the pavement any longer would have invited more eyes, more air, more chance that I would start crying again where strangers could count it. When he slid into the driver’s seat, the quiet between us became immediate and thick. His hands settled on the wheel, then flexed once before he started the engine.“I’m not keeping it just because you

I tried to ease away without waking him and failed almost immediately.The second my weight shifted, Damien’s arm tightened, then loosened as consciousness returned. For a brief disoriented moment his mouth was against the back of my shoulder and his whole body was aligned with mine under the blanket, unmistakable in its early-morning honesty. He went still. I felt the exact second he realized where he was and what state he was in, because he released me carefully and rolled onto his back with a hard breath, one forearm thrown across his eyes.“I should’ve stayed on the couch,” he said.His voice was rough. He didn’t look at me when he said it.“You did, for a while.” I sat up, pulling the blanket with me, suddenly aware of how little I had on and how much of the night had erased the careful distance we’d attempted. “Then someone migrated.”He made a low sound that might have been agreement and sat up on the edge of the bed with his back to me, shoulders rigid. The line of his spine w

DAMIENI left her apartment before the restraint could turn into something she would have to watch.Marcus had already gone down the stairs with that last bitter line still hanging behind him, and every instinct I owned wanted to follow him into the stairwell and finish the conversation properly. The only reason I didn’t was the woman in the oversized shirt behind me, still pale from yesterday, still carrying a child she had nearly ended alone because of how badly I had handled her. If I put my brother through a wall in her building, she would become the audience to the exact part of me I was still trying to keep from landing fully on her skin.So I kissed her forehead once, brief enough that she couldn’t turn it into an argument, told her to lock the door, and went after him the longer way.I didn’t need to run. Men like Marcus always left a trail when they were angry; a slammed exit, a car pulled out too hard, a call made too loud in a pavement corner because silence felt like los