Lahat ng Kabanata ng THE CEO'S PREGNANT NANNY: Kabanata 211 - Kabanata 220

POV: LAURENKate nodded with her jaw clenched, her expression determined. But she didn’t hold back from asking what had been circling in my mind from the beginning: “And what about Ethan?” Kate raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed over her chest. “Do you really think he’s going to believe that his own wife kidnapped his ex-wife’s daughter to pretend she was hers? Especially if he’s involved in this. We have no guarantee he’s clean.” I lowered my eyes, feeling that pain in my chest again. It was like a constant pressure, a punch that never stopped. “I know,” I murmured, my voice weak, exhausted from so much crying, from overthinking everything. I brought the back of my hand to my eyes, wiping away the remaining tears. “But right now, that doesn’t matter. I’m not going to wait for Ethan’s moral judgment. I’m not going to a

POV: LAURENHenry stayed silent for a few seconds. I could feel his breath close to me, but he didn’t move. I couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, so I looked down at the baby and kept gently rocking him, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that was suffocating me. “I shouldn’t have put myself at risk…” I whispered, swallowing hard, my throat raw from holding back tears. “I shouldn’t have let everything spiral out of control. He’s just a baby, Henry…” Henry took a deep breath, as if trying to contain something inside himself. His strong hands gently held my shoulders, and his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that stole my breath for a moment. He was studying me. Analyzing me the way only he knew how—with that steady, cold gaze that was somehow still absurdly protective. Slowly, he turned his gaze to the baby in my arms. His eyes trac

POV: LAURENA few minutes later, in the room, Kate was helping me change clothes. Her hands were quick but careful, always holding my arm whenever she noticed my involuntary trembling. I still felt weak and shaky, as if I could collapse at any moment. My chest still ached, my stomach was in knots, and fear pulsed through every thought.The baby was nestled in the crib next to the bed, sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of all the surrounding chaos, breathing calmly, his little face relaxed. His sweet scent—that unique smell of a newborn—washed over me, soothed me, and, in a way, gave me the strength to keep going.A soft knock on the door interrupted the tense silence in the room.“Come in,” I responded, adjusting the fabric of my blouse. My voice still sounded quieter than usual, tired, but steady.When Henry walked in, my brow automatically furrowed. He was carrying a few shopping bags, and his expression, usually controlled and serious, now held a rare mix of discomfort and un

POV: HENRY“Uncle Henry… that baby…” Theo turned to me, frowning, pressing his little fingers together, his big, tear-filled eyes locked on mine. “He… he’s not my sister… is he?” His voice came out low, choked, filled with confusion and such pure fear that, for a second, I felt a strange discomfort in my chest. I took a deep breath, ran my hand through my hair, gripping the back of my neck, trying to hold on to some shred of rationality. Damn it. How exactly do you explain to a child that his newborn sister was kidnapped? That she was ripped from her own mother’s arms, and in a cruel theater, they forced a premature birth and, as if that weren’t enough, left another baby at the hospital… like something disposable? I looked at Theo. His breathing was rapid, his little chest rising and falling too fast. Sweat was beading at his temples. He was trembling, clearl

POV: HENRYHer voice dropped, hoarse, choked, and full of pain.“And what if someone shows up wanting that baby back? Are you going to make my daughter lose another child, Henry?” Amelia held her accusatory gaze. “Are you going to let her be shattered all over again?” I closed my eyes for two seconds, pressing my temples with my fingers. The exhaustion was destroying me from the inside out. My shoulders felt as if they were carrying tons. And, for the first time in years, I tasted that bitter flavor in my mouth… the unacceptable taste of failure. “I couldn’t stop it, Mrs. Amelia.” I spoke, every word bitter, harsh. I took my hand off my forehead and looked at her, steady, with the same look I used at negotiation tables when I tore apart any CEO who dared to confront me. “I failed.” I admitted, coldly, letting the words fall heavy. “I failed