All Chapters of THE PREGNANT GIRL AND THE RUTHLESS HEIR : Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

She lowered her gaze to the file sitting in front of her."There is something you need to know."I was already losing patience, if my cancer was not back why was I here? "Stop talking in riddles Valentina."She inhaled slowly."Then I guess I will go straight to the point, there is a woman in this hospital who is fourteen weeks pregnant with your child."For a moment, I genuinely thought I had misheard her."My what?""Your child." she repeated with her face straight."That's not possible and you know that." I say laughing, "So just tell me what's really going on." Three years ago, after my recovery, I had ordered every specimen I had stored destroyed. I had signed the papers myself. I did not want any kids and I made sure I destroyed any chances of that happening three years ago. "I know," she said quietly standing up and her face gave it all away. This was no joke, she was serious, a feeling of unease crept up my spine.Then she slid a document across the desk."Your mother purc

Diane.Something isn’t right, I can feel it I just can't explain it, It starts as a small discomfort, the kind you try to ignore because you don’t want to sound dramatic, even to yourself. But as the minutes stretch into hours, that feeling doesn’t fade, It grows.By mid morning, I am pacing around my living room, my phone clutched tightly in my hand.Gesare should have been back by now.She told me she was spending the night at Kumba’s house. I didn’t question it, I knew she was fine but today morning I realized she had forgotten her phone here, and my son has been sending me straight to voice mail all morning. Kumba's son was a few houses down from mine but I also don't want to pop up on them Unnannounced but Kumba knew she was supposed to take her vitamins at exactly ten am and yet he had not brought her back. “She wouldn’t forget herself, she knows she is not supposed to miss even a day,” I murmur to myself, shaking my head. “Not her.”I try calling my son Kumba again and lucki

Kumba.The hallway feels tighter than it should, like the walls are closing in on me. I don’t let go of my mother’s arm until we are a few steps away from the door, my grip loosening just enough for her to pull free with an annoyed exhale.“Kumba, what on earth is going on? Let me go” she demands immediately, turning to face me when I let her arm go.I ignore the question as I turn back, the door is still open and Gesare is still standing where we left her frozen.Like she hasn’t fully processed what just happened.“Get your things Gesare,” I say loud enough for her to hear. “What?” she asks confused “You can’t stay here anymore,” I repeat, my voice firmer this time. “Pack whatever you need, you are coming with us.”Her brows draw together immediately.“No I am not.” The answer is instant and sharp, she is standing her ground“I am not going anywhere with you and you can't make me”she fires back Of course she is still as stubborn as I remember, but that does not change anything I

Kumba.One second I am leaving the cafe, the envelope tight in my grip, my mind running in circles and the next, I’m pulling into my mother’s driveway harder than I should.For a few minutes I just sit in my car in my mother's parking lot holding the envelope.I grab the envelope from the passenger seat and step out, slamming the door shut behind me harder than necessary. My steps are quick, sharp, controlled but just barely.Because something is off and I need answers.If Gesare and Moraa know each other's then there is a possibility she knows about the pregnancy too which is not good for me. I get out of the car and head to the front door, I don't even bother knocking. I push the door open and walk straight in.“Mom.”My voice cuts through the house, firm and unyielding.A few seconds later, she appears from the hallway, her expression shifting from mild curiosity to concern the moment she sees my face.“Kumba?” she says. “What’s wrong?”I don’t answer her, instead, I walk past he

Dr. Valentina. I have handled difficult patients before, emotional ones, angry ones, desperate ones, it all comes with the job, but this?This is different.Because the moment Moraa asks that question“What really happened the day of my insemination, Dr. Valentina?” something inside me stills but not outwardly.Outwardly, I remain exactly what I have trained myself to be over the years, composed, attentive and controlled.But internally? Everything sharpens because that question isn’t random at all.It isn’t curiosity, it's direct and targeted. I study her carefully, my fingers resting lightly against the edge of my desk, my posture straight, my expression neutral.“I am not sure I understand what you are implying,” I say, keeping my tone even and professional, she doesn’t blink or soften.If anything, she leans further into it.“Oh, I think you do,” she replies quietly.There is something in her voice now and it unsettles me.Because conviction means she believes there is something