Suddenly, she knows what a normal day means. The quiet hum of the AC, the distant chatter of people, Damien's sweet jokes, the lazy plop of water droplets landing on the floor—it's all part of a rhythm she’s slowly learning to enjoy. For once, the deafening silence she once lived with has disappeared, replaced by a life full of sound and motion. She is, indeed, an updated version of herself, someone who can enjoy life like everyone else. Now, she understands who talks behind her back and who doesn’t. Right now, Damien is taking on a lot of the workload with her. She knows he’s doing it partly out of care and partly because he doesn’t want to reclaim the CEO position from her. As the afternoon wears on, Carol stretches her arms with a lazy yawn, her focus still on the Australian project she’s been pouring her energy into. Her body aches from the hours of work, but a small smile tugs at her lips. She’s made progress, and that’s enough to keep her going. “Need a shoulder massage?
"You are kidding, right?" Carol stares at the monitor, her breath catching as she watches the tiny, unmistakable image of a baby on the screen. Her baby. "Is this some kind of prank? Damien, did you ask the doctor to play a joke on me?" Her voice wavers, tears pooling in her eyes. "This isn’t funny. It’s cruel." "I’m not joking," Damien replies, his voice calm yet filled with conviction. "I’ve noticed changes in you—physically, emotionally, mentally. At first, I thought it might be because of your medication, but when I called your doctor, she said it was unlikely." "I didn’t notice anything," Carol mutters, her trembling fingers tracing her belly as though she’s feeling it for the first time. "And now you’re telling me I’m pregnant? And almost ready to give birth?" She presses her lower abdomen hesitantly, her heart skipping a beat at the unexpected firmness. A chill of realization washes over her. "Everything is alright with you and your baby, ma’am," the doctor interject
Mrs. Crawley throws her phone onto the desk in front of her husband, her hand trembling with barely restrained anger. "Look at this!" she snaps. "Your bastard son is parading around with his wife in public! The whole world thinks we’ve been using him as some kind of pawn!" The phone clatters across the polished mahogany surface, spinning until it comes to rest beside Mr. Crawley’s laptop. He spares it a glance, his sharp eyes scanning the headline briefly before his focus returns to the screen in front of him. His expression remains unreadable, his demeanor unshaken. Mrs. Crawley’s frustration mounts. "What’s with this calm demeanor of yours?" she demands, her voice rising. "Damien is out there, acting like he owns the world! Announcing his miraculous recovery right after we released that article disinheriting him? Do you even realize the damage he’s doing to our name? To all our plans?" Still, Mr. Crawley remains silent, his gaze shifting toward the door. His eyes narrow slight
“It makes sense!” James isn’t surprised when Damien tells him about Carol’s pregnancy and sudden situation. He has seen her under so much pressure that, if it were a normal pregnancy, she would have miscarried for sure. “Congratulations, Carol! You’ve once again proven how strong you are!” he says with a grin, raising his glass of wine. “Thank you!” Carol clinks her glass of juice against his and smiles. “I’m still in shock, but I can’t wait for my daughter’s arrival!” Damien chuckles, rubbing her back. “She even cries in her sleep, saying she can’t believe she didn’t know about her daughter’s existence for almost nine months! My silly wife!” “Is it my fault now?” Carol squints at him. “Anyone would feel this way. I had no idea I was pregnant. And now, I’m almost ready to give birth, and I still don’t feel much of anything!” She rolls her eyes, gently rubbing her belly. “Well, I think it’s actually a blessing. The baby must have adapted, knowing you were going through so m
The next morning, a sharp scream pierces through the peaceful silence as Mrs. Crawley discovers her phone bombarded with thousands of messages and missed calls from relatives and friends. She has been meditating in the designated meditation room, enjoying the soothing melodies of 80s classics. But when the phone refuses to remain silent, her instincts kick in—something is definitely wrong. Her entire body shakes with a mix of fury and confusion. With trembling hands, she scrolls through the flood of messages. One catches her attention—a link from a close friend. Heart pounding, she clicks on it. Moments later, another scream echoes through the house. “Ughhh!!!” In their bedroom, Mr. Crawley, plagued by nightmares ever since taking over the family company, groans in irritation. His wife’s screams disrupt his restless sleep. Covering his ears with a pillow, he tries to block her out. But within seconds, a stinging slap lands on his face, jolting him upright. “What the hell?!”
The downfall of the articles is inevitable and record-setting. From the stock prices to clients’ responses, everything begins to downgrade the company’s reputation. Within two hours, reviews from different people and organizations drop them out of the top-ranked companies immediately. “What’s going on with your family’s company?” Carol asks while holding baby girl dresses in her hands. Damien grabs a few socks and turns to her, shrugging slightly. “Maybe they’re facing some critical situations. It’s none of our business, love.” “That’s true. Which one should I buy? I love both of them!” she says, holding up two dresses—one white and the other blue. “How about buying both of them? Why hesitate? Oh! Actually, I’ve been thinking about something,” Damien says with a grin. “Something crazy again?” she chuckles, raising an eyebrow. “No, nothing crazy. I was just thinking… The fifth floor of our mansion is empty. How about renovating a few rooms for her? A playroom, a study, and
As the snow falls outside, Carol sits in her daughter’s nursery, rocking herself gently in the chair. Her hand rests on her belly as she stares at the mobile above the crib. The sense of unease from earlier lingers. Damien enters the room, holding a tray with hot tea and a plate of cookies. “You’ve been quiet since the doctor left,” he says, placing the tray on a nearby table. “I’m just thinking,” Carol replies, her voice distant. Damien pulls up a chair and sits beside her. “About what?” Carol hesitates, then says, “Damien, did you notice anything…odd about Dr. Linsey today?” He leans back, his expression thoughtful. “She was certainly pushy about that injection.” Carol nods. “And it didn’t feel right. I’ve seen her many times, but today, she seemed different. Almost nervous as if she is forcing herself to push me into this.” “Do you think she’s lying about the injection?” Damien sits closer, “I don’t know,” Carol admits, “but I don’t trust her anymore. I want
That night, Damien’s mansion feels more like a fortress. Security guards patrol the grounds, their sharp eyes scanning for any signs of danger. Cameras monitor every corner, capturing every rustle of the trees and every shadow that moves. Yet, unease clings to the air like a storm waiting to break. Despite the mansion’s security, Damien can’t shake the tension in his chest. His mind refuses to rest. He knows Diego Granger is desperate enough to stop at nothing, but the thought of anyone threatening Carol and their unborn child sets his blood boiling. Carol, too, finds no solace in sleep. Her thoughts race, circling around Dr. Linsey’s betrayal and Diego’s sinister motives. The fear mingles with a growing anger. How could someone stoop so low as to harm her and her innocent child? Sitting up in bed, she exhales sharply. Her frustration surges, and she swings her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching the cool floor. She walks to the window, staring out at the snow-
The next day, Eunice and the others welcomed Carol and Aria with a graceful grand welcome party. From cake to sushi, to a presentation on how Damien should change diapers and how Carol should enjoy her maternity leave, everything was thoughtfully planned. Damien, without any arguments, gladly took on his responsibilities as a new father and supportive husband. The day ended with happiness and laughter, as the boys in the house promised to take care of their "madam" and the little miss of the house. After everyone left, it became a bit complicated for Carol and Damien to adjust to the new changes. Aria is a quiet girl. She only cries when she is hungry or in an emergency. Otherwise, she sleeps most of the time. Thankfully, all her medical reports came back normal. However, the situation with Carol is more complicated. Although she was initially fine with nurses helping her with medication and other tasks, she has started feeling feverish and deprived. She has booked therapy ses
“Damien,” Eunice says, her tone teasing, “are you changing diapers yet?” He grins. “I’ve changed exactly three so far. Carol’s doing most of the heavy lifting.” “Typical,” Katie says, rolling her eyes dramatically. Carol chuckles. “Hey, he’s learning. It’s kind of cute watching him try to figure out which side of the diaper goes where. But I am doing nothing. In his absence, It's the nurse who is doing everything. I am just enjoying a vacation with a back pain!” She lazily shrugs. The room erupts in laughter, even Damien joining in. Grace picks up one of the cookies, nibbling thoughtfully. “So, have you decided on a middle name yet? Or is it just Aria Crawley for now?” Carol exchanges a glance with Damien. ” No! We got one... Celeste. Aria Celeste Crawley!" Katie leans forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “How about Aria Cookie Crawley? In honor of these amazing snacks.” Carol laughs so hard she winces. “Oh, no, don’t make me laugh. It hurts!” “Sorry!” Ka
Damien steps out of Carol's favorite bakery with a box of freshly baked cake in his hands, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The cake, a delicate creation adorned with soft pastel frosting, is for Carol. It’s a small celebration, a way to mark another milestone in their journey. He can do anything but refuses to fulfill her smallest wishes. As he walks down the bustling sidewalk to his car, his thoughts are focused on Carol, Aria and their new life together. But then something catches his eye as he passes a small boutique window. Red shoes. Tiny red shoes, perched on a shelf in the display. His heart skips a beat as he stops in his tracks, staring at them. They’re the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. He steps closer, peering through the glass. The shoes are small, far too small for Aria’s little feet at this moment, but something about them pulls at him. They’re bright red, soft leather, with tiny laces tied in a neat bow. Despite knowing they’ll likely be t
The soft light of late afternoon streams through the hospital window, casting a warm glow over the room. Carol reclines against the pillows, her newborn daughter snuggled against her chest. Damien sits beside her, his fingers brushing her arm as he watches them both with a tenderness that makes her heart flutter. “You know we can’t keep calling her ‘Baby Girl,’ right?” Carol says, her voice playful but weary. Damien grins. “I thought we settled on Princess Buttercup Moonbeam Sparkle?” Carol groans, rolling her eyes. “Damien, be serious. She needs a name. And it has to be perfect.” “Alright, alright,” Damien relents, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been thinking about this for nine months. Hit me with your best idea.” Carol looks down at their daughter, her tiny fingers clutching at the edge of the blanket. “She’s so beautiful,” she murmurs, her eyes misty. “She needs a name that’s… elegant. Timeless.” Damien nods, his expression softening. “Okay. How about Grace? Simple,
The sterile smell of the hospital room is overwhelming. Damien paces back and forth, his shoes squeaking faintly against the polished floor. He glances at the clock—three hours have passed since Carol’s labor began, but still no baby. His heart races with every groan or gasp from Carol. Carol lies on the hospital bed, her face pale and strained as another contraction grips her. Sweat beads her forehead, and she clutches Damien’s hand tightly. She groans in pain, clenching her eyes shut. “Carol, I’m here,” he whispers, brushing her hair back gently. “You’re doing so well.” She groans, barely able to respond. “I… can’t. It’s too much, Damien. It feels like my spines are breaking” His heart twists, and he kneels beside her, his voice thick with emotion. “You can. You’re the strongest person I know. I’d trade places with you if I could.” Her lips twitch into a weak smile. “You… wouldn’t last five minutes.” Damien chuckles, though his eyes glisten with unshed tears. “You’r
The bright lights of the shopping mall reflect off the polished floors as Carol and Eunice stroll through the aisles, their arms laden with shopping bags. Carol wears a loose maternity dress, her hand occasionally resting on her belly. Although her belly doesn't stand out but the baby's movements are very active recently. She can feel the weight of the baby sometimes. “This place has everything,” Eunice says, holding up a baby blanket. “Look at this—soft and perfect!” Carol chuckles. “You’re spoiling the baby already.It’s cute.” ” I am going to be Godmother!" Eunice says while her eyes sometimes stealing glances at James who decided to join them at last minute. Carol knows that they're having some problems. So, she called him secretly to join them from the beginning. " I think it's enough today!" Carol says, feeling a bit exhausted. Her back is killing somehow. " Okay!" Eunice grabs a few shopping bags and gives it to James, " Put them in our car!" She rolls her eyes, though
The first rays of sunlight stream through the curtains of Carol’s bedroom, softly illuminating the room. Eunice, already awake, moves quietly around the space, fluffing pillows and setting up breakfast on a tray. Carol stirs in bed, blinking against the light. She stretches gently, cradling her belly as she sits up. “Good morning,” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep. Eunice turns with a bright smile. “Good morning! I brought you oatmeal with fresh fruit. You need energy, Momma.” Carol chuckles softly, adjusting her pillows. “You’re spoiling me, Eunice. But I’m not complaining.” “That’s the point,” Eunice says, bringing the tray over. “Now eat up before Damien swoops in and lectures us both about nutrition.” Carol grins, picking up her spoon. “You’re a lifesaver, Eunice. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Eunice sits on the edge of the bed, watching her eat. “You’d survive. But I’m here to make sure you thrive.” Meanwhile, Damien sits in his office, poring over d
Carol sits in the living room, her hands resting protectively over her belly. Everything feels surreal. Just a week ago, the doctor confirmed she wasn’t 38 weeks along but only 35 weeks. The cryptic nature of her pregnancy and her health issues had made it difficult to track her progress, but the baby is thriving and could arrive as early as 37 weeks. She shifts carefully on the couch, mindful of every movement. The anticipation of labor starting any day now keeps her alert and slightly anxious. Damien has stationed extra security and instructed everyone in the house to prioritize her safety. Damien enters the room with a warm smile, his gaze immediately softening when it lands on her. “How are you feeling, love?” “I’m fine,” Carol says with a small smile. “Just a bit restless.” “Well, I have a little surprise for you.” Carol raises a brow. “Surprise?” He grins and sits beside her, taking her hand in his. “I thought you could use some company, so I called Eunice, Sarah, Ka
The lawyer, Mr. Bennett, wastes no time organizing the damning evidence Damien and Carol have amassed. He meticulously arranges the documents in chronological order, his practiced eye picking out details that can deliver a decisive blow to Diego Granger and the Crawley family. “This contract,” Bennett says, holding up the document Carol uncovered, “is our cornerstone. It proves a financial relationship between Diego and the Crawleys, stretching back years. We can leverage it to establish intent and conspiracy. But to make this airtight, we need more—communications, witness testimony, and detailed financial records.” Carol, sitting beside Damien, leans forward. “I’ve already sent Damien everything I found in Diego’s system. Bank statements, emails, even his calendar. He has meetings logged with my grandfather and his parents as recently as last week.” Bennett’s eyes gleam with approval. “That’s excellent. It establishes an ongoing connection between the parties. If we can link th