Page 3

Chapter 3

Elle

FIVE MONTHS PREGNANT

Christopher never broke his word or changed his mind after that day. He moved right into the guest house with me until our house was built.

He literally gave me the go-ahead to have everything and anything I wanted since it’s going to be our house.

I offered to go to work to help pay for the baby’s things at least, and I thought Christopher was going to fall on his ass when I suggested that.

I smile back at the memory.

“I have been looking at job opportunities to pay for the things the baby is going to need. My dad offered to pay but I don’t want him to do that,” I tell him casually, scanning the job listings on the internet.

Christopher is looking at me like I’m insane.

“You don’t need to work, I can take care of you and provide everything you and the baby need,” he tells me, then he digs into his back pocket, pulling out a credit card and setting it on the table in front of me.

I’m shocked that he just handed it over like that. “I don’t want you to think I’m a gold digger. I can work,” I point out to him, reluctantly taking the credit card from him.

He pulls my chair away from the table, closing the laptop lid. “Angel, I know you can work, but I can give you everything and more. You never have to work. It’s your choice, but I need you to be safe right now until we find the fucker who hurt you.”

His reasoning hits me like a strike of lightning—he is right about that fact. No one knows who hurt me.

A smirk slides over his lips, knowing he’s winning. “Plus, I fucking love the look of you barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen when I come home from training.”

I laugh at that and settle my head on his chest, taking a deep breath and relaxing into him. “Thank goodness you agree, or I’d have to tie your ass to the bed.”

My eyes fly open in shock at his words, meanwhile he slips out of my arms, smirking at me as he walks out of the kitchen.

Well, fuck me.

Today is the day. My heart flutters with excitement as I run my hand over the slight curve of my stomach. In just a few hours, I'll know if I'm carrying a little boy or girl. The thought makes me giddy, imagining tiny outfits and nursery decorations.

I've been pushing myself hard with schoolwork these past few months, determined to graduate before the baby arrives. It hasn't been easy, especially with my so-called friends abandoning me after learning about my pregnancy. Their absence hurts, but I try not to dwell on it.

“Just one more stop at school," I remind myself, gathering my things for the doctor's appointment. I need to pick up some material for my science class, and then I'll be done. The finish line is so close, I can taste it.

"Ready, angel?" Christopher's voice breaks through my thoughts.

I turn to see him leaning against my bedroom doorframe, his eyes soft but watchful. Even here, in the safety of our home, he's on high alert. It's sweet and unsettling all at once.

"I'm excited to find out the gender," I say, crossing the room to him.

He takes my hand, pressing a gentle kiss to my knuckles. "Me too."

As we head out, Christopher tucks me protectively into his side. His eyes scan our surroundings, muscles tense beneath his shirt. I know he's thinking the threat still looms over us.

I’ve come to accept it in a lot of ways. For starters, I started therapy online and it helped me to talk about things that I won’t share with anyone else, like my fears and thoughts.

I've been working through it during my therapy sessions, but trust doesn't come easily anymore. Even now, I eye the sealed water bottle in my bag.

We reach Christopher's truck, and I place my foot on the step. The morning dew makes the metal slick, and suddenly I'm falling. My arms windmill, a gasp catching in my throat.

But I never hit the ground. Christopher's strong arms wrap around me, scooping me up as if I weigh nothing. My heart pounds as he sets me gently in the passenger seat.

“If you wanted me to hold you, you could have just said so.” He winks at me and I laugh at him.

“I do want you to hold me, always,” I confess to him, and I do.

Christopher's expression softens, his eyes melting into pools as they lock onto mine. The tension in his jaw eases, replaced by a gentle curve of his lips.

He leans in slowly, giving me time to anticipate the kiss.

When our lips meet, it's soft at first, a whisper of a touch that sends tingles down my spine. Then he presses closer, deepening the kiss with a passion that makes my toes curl in my shoes.

I sink into the sensation, my hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders. The world falls away, leaving only us. The heat of his body, the taste of his lips, the slight scratch of stubble against my skin. My heart races, pounding so hard I wonder if he can feel it too.

I pull back, breathless.

Christopher's thumb traces my lower lip, his eyes dark and intense. "Elle," he murmurs, voice husky. "You have no idea what you do to me."

I swallow hard, fighting the urge to pull him back in for another kiss. "I think I have an idea," I manage to say, my own voice barely above a whisper.

His hand slides from my cheek to the nape of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair. "We should go," he says reluctantly, though he makes no move to step away. "But later…" He winks.

The promise in his voice sends a shiver through me, anticipation coiling low in my belly. I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

“Let’s find out what our baby is.” He kisses me one last time on the forehead and closes the door.

T he drive to the clinic passes in a blur of anticipation and nerves. As Christopher guides me through the entrance, his hand warm and steady against my lower back, I'm struck by how surreal this all feels. The waiting room is a sea of rounded bellies and expectant faces. Some women glance up, curiosity flickering in their eyes before they return to their phones or magazines.

I can't help but notice a few shocked expressions, probably due to my young age. A familiar pang of self-consciousness twists in my gut, but I push it aside. Christopher's presence beside me is a silent shield against the judgment.

As I fill out the paperwork, my hand trembles slightly. The reality of what we're about to learn hits me in waves. Holy shit, I'm really pregnant. And Christopher is here, solid and unwavering. I steal a glance at him, warmth blooming in my chest at the intensity of his gaze as he scans the room.

We settle into the uncomfortable plastic chairs, the drone of a game show providing background noise to the tense atmosphere. I try to focus on the excitement of our gender reveal surprise for my parents later, but a prickling sensation at the back of my neck distracts me.

Turning slightly, I catch an older woman giving us the side-eye. Her lips are pursed in obvious disapproval, and I can practically feel the judgment radiating from her. I take a deep breath, willing myself to ignore her, but Christopher's body tenses beside me. His jaw clenches, and I know he's noticed her judgmental stare too.

The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable, until finally, the woman's voice cuts through the air like a knife. "How long have you two been married?"

I close my eyes, fighting the urge to snap back. Christopher's hand tightens on my thigh, a silent reminder of his support. When I open my eyes, his expression is carefully neutral, but I can see the storm brewing behind his gaze.

"Why do you want to know?" he asks, his voice deceptively calm.

The woman clutches her belly dramatically, as if we might snatch her unborn child at any moment. She glances around the room, seeking an audience for her performance, but finds only disinterest.

Undeterred, she clears her throat and adjusts her designer outfit, an ensemble that seems wildly out of place for a doctor's appointment. "Well, I just wanted to know," she scoffs, her voice dripping with disdain. "You both seem like children, that's all."

I feel Christopher's muscles coil beneath his shirt, ready to spring. His voice drops an octave, a clear warning. "Why is it any of your business, lady?"

The woman's eyes narrow, her lips curling into a sneer. "I'm just a concerned citizen! What kind of parents would let this girl get pregnant? Do you even have a job?"

Each word is a barb, designed to wound. I shrink into myself, wishing I could disappear. Christopher, however, seems to grow larger, his presence filling the small waiting room.

"If you don't sit your ass down and shut your fucking mouth, you're not going to like what I do or say next," he growls, the threat clear in his tone.

The woman's eyes widen for a fraction of a second before her face hardens once more. She looks down her nose at us, her voice dripping with venom. "I think CPS should be called the second your baby is born. Do you know who the father even is? You’re children," she spits the last part, a smug smile twisting her features.

The words hit me like a physical blow, anger and hurt warring inside me. Before I can stop myself, a bitter laugh escapes my lips. "Children?" I echo, incredulous. "You don't know anything about us. Maybe you should mind your own business."

Christopher steps forward, his body a wall between me and the woman. His voice is cruel when he speaks. "You really should be careful about making assumptions. You have no idea what we've been through or what we're capable of."

The woman hesitates, her bravado faltering as she catches the malicious glint in Christopher's eye. She glances toward the door, as if weighing her escape options, before squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin defiantly. But when she speaks again, her voice has lost its edge.

"I still think it's irresponsible," she mutters, more to herself than to us.

Just then, a nurse emerges from the back, clipboard in hand. "Janice Davidson?" she calls out.

The name strikes a chord in my memory, and suddenly I'm connecting the dots. A saccharine smile spreads across my face as I turn to the woman.

"Oh, your husband works at McGuire's restaurant, doesn't he?" I ask, my voice dripping with false sweetness.

Her eyes narrow, suspicion warring with pride. "He owns it," she corrects me, tossing her hair with a smug little smirk. Without another word, she sashays out of the waiting room as if she's walking a red carpet instead of linoleum tiles.

As soon as the door swings shut behind her, Christopher and I dissolve into laughter. The tension that had been coiling in my chest releases in a rush, leaving me giddy and lightheaded. Christopher drops back into the chair beside me, his large hand engulfing mine as he laces our fingers together.

"Did you see her face?" I giggle, leaning into him. "I thought she was going to combust when you told her off."

Christopher's chest rumbles with a low chuckle. "Serves her right, sticking her nose where it doesn't belong." His thumb traces soothing circles on the back of my hand, and I feel the last of my anxiety melt away.

We don't have to wait long before another nurse calls my name. As she leads us back, taking my vitals with practiced efficiency, I can't help but marvel at how different this feels from my first appointment. The fear and uncertainty that had threatened to overwhelm me then have been replaced by a nervous excitement that bubbles in my chest.

The exam room is small but bright, with cheerful posters of fetal development lining the walls. I hop up onto the padded table, the paper crinkling beneath me as I settle in. Christopher takes up his position beside me, a steady presence at my side.

I look up at him, struck once again by the intensity of his gaze. "Thank you for being here with me," I murmur, reaching for his hand.

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. The gentle gesture sends a warm flush through me, and I have to blink back the sudden sting of tears. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else than here with you," he says, his voice low and sincere.

A flutter of movement in my belly—whether from the baby or just butterflies, I'm not sure—accompanies the swell of emotion in my chest. I tilt my head to rest against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne.

A knock at the door announces the arrival of my doctor. Dr. Patel enters with a warm smile, laugh lines crinkling around her eyes. Her salt-and-pepper hair is pulled back in a neat bun, and her presence immediately puts me at ease.

"Well, looks like today's the big day!" she says, her enthusiasm infectious. "Are we ready to see if you're having a little prince or princess?"

I nod, suddenly too overwhelmed to speak. Christopher squeezes my hand reassuringly.

"All right then," Dr. Patel continues, settling onto her rolling stool in front of the ultrasound machine. "If you could lie back and lift your shirt to just under your bra, we can get started."

As I comply, memories of my first exam shortly after I found out I was pregnant flood back. The terror I'd felt, lying on a similar table with my mom beside me instead of Christopher. The shock of seeing that internal ultrasound wand for the first time. So much has changed since then, but the flutter of nerves in my stomach feels eerily familiar.

I take a deep breath, focusing on the comfort of Christopher's hand in mine as Dr. Patel squirts the cold gel onto my exposed belly. The anticipation builds as she presses the probe to my skin, moving it in slow, practiced movements.

And then, suddenly, there it is. The rapid whoosh, whoosh of our baby's heartbeat fills the room, strong and steady. My own heart seems to skip a beat in response, and I feel Christopher's grip on my hand tighten.

"There we go," Dr. Patel murmurs, her eyes fixed on the screen. "Let's see if this little one wants to cooperate and show us…"

She doesn’t say anything for a few moments before she beams at us. “Looks like you’re having a baby girl.”

A wave of emotion crashes over me, leaving me breathless. A girl. We're having a little girl. My eyes blur with tears as I stare at the grainy image on the screen, trying to make out the tiny features of our daughter.

"A girl," I whisper, my voice thick with awe. I turn to Christopher, expecting to see the same joy reflected in his eyes. Instead, I'm met with a sight that makes me laugh.

Christopher's face has drained of all color, his eyes wide and unfocused. His grip on my hand has gone slack, and for a second, I genuinely worry he might faint.

"Christopher?" I squeeze his hand, bringing him back to the present. He blinks rapidly, his gaze finally focusing on me.

"Holy shit," he breathes, running his free hand through his hair. "This is… I mean, I…" he trails off, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Maybe you should sit down.” I try to pull him by the hand into the chair while I’m laying back.

The doctor breaks into uncontrollable laughter. “Every time one of the MC guys learns they’re having a daughter, they totally freak out. Like father, like son,” she jokes, and I can’t help but laugh along with her.

I have heard similar stories when it came to my dad finding out he was having a daughter.

Christopher takes a napkin and wipes my stomach off sweetly. I swear the doctor and I both look like we are going to swoon.

I always find it amazing how these big, tough guys with tattoos and riding Harleys can be so gentle with the people they love.

He fixes my shirt for me and helps me down, not letting me go until he is sure that I’m steady on my feet.

“I will see you in a month,” she tells me, and waves as she walks out the door, leaving us alone.

Christopher grabs my purse off the ground, putting it over his shoulder, and I suck in my lips so I don’t laugh at the ridiculous look of him carrying my hot pink purse.

We leave the clinic and walk down the street to the bakery. “Should we order some cupcakes with the inside the color of the gender, and then we can get everyone to take a bite all at once?” I suggest.

“That’s a good idea,” he agrees with me, and we give our order. We take a couple of donuts and a drink while we wait until the baker finishes making all of the cupcakes.

Christopher takes a seat where he has a clear view of the entire bakery. He never fully relaxes and I hate that he’s always on edge, never able to relax.

I smile, thinking about the little girl I’ll soon get to dress up in cute little dresses and bows.

“I can’t wait to meet her.” I look down at my stomach. It’s still hard to believe that there is actually a baby growing inside of me.

Christopher's hand slides over to grasp the edge of my chair, the metal legs scraping against the tile as he drags me closer. My breath catches as his fingers slide up my thigh, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

His hand is tattooed, dragging all the way down his fingertips. There are veins sticking out of his forearms that are way too sexy.

I run my fingertip along the side of his arm, and he lifts my donut up to my mouth so I can take a bite.

“You’re so sweet to me,” I tell him, my stomach so full of butterflies it feels like it could take flight.

He swipes a stray strand of my hair off my cheek and tucks it behind my ear. “You deserve that and more, angel.”

Christopher's thumb begins tracing lazy circles on my thigh, each movement sending sparks of sensations through me. It's maddening how easily he can affect me.

I lick my lips, my eyes drifting down to his lips, dying to feel his lips against mine.

He catches my look, cupping my face to tilt my head up to kiss me deeply, and I sigh against his lips, never going to tire of kissing him.

“I could kiss you for fucking forever,” he growls against my lips, kissing me harder, and we are lost in the kiss, not caring that we are in front of a crowd of people.

We finally back away from each other when my name is called to pick up our cupcakes, startling us both.

I giggle behind my hand, my face burning at the looks I’m getting from people.

He is so sexy, all of the women’s eyes are on him, and it makes me realize I am one lucky girl because I have him, and he is mine.

A voice clears from beside me, and I jump in shock at the sudden noise. I was so lost in thought, and I grin at the sight of Reid, one of the other MC kids I have grown up with.

“Well, isn’t it a princess?” he jokes with me, and I lean over to hug him. His dad is Aiden, one of my dad’s brothers in the MC.

“Isn’t it a prince?” I joke back, and he laughs.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him, and he grins.

“I have a crush on the baker.” I follow his line of sight and I see a girl in the back behind the counter who is curvy, petite, and she has long dark brown hair that is in a braid down her back.

“Is she not interested?” I ask him.

He sits forward. “She is scared of something or someone. But my mama didn’t raise a quitter, so she will eventually say yes. I just have to bug her enough until she puts me out of my misery.”

Right on cue, she turns to look around the room, and her eyes land on Reid almost instantly.

Her face turns the prettiest shade of red. She is beautiful. Her eyes are bright green, the color striking paired with her dark hair and pale skin.

“I think she does like you, Reid,” I whisper to Reid, excited for him.

Christopher makes his way over, setting the cupcakes down on the counter. “Hey, brother, when did you get back on your ride?”

“Just this morning, but I had to make a stop before I went home to sleep.” Christopher follows Reid’s gaze and chuckles when he realizes who he’s looking at.

“Good luck,” I tell him, and Christopher takes my hand. We walk hand in hand out of the door to his truck. “Do you mind if we stop by the school so I can pick up my assignments? We are still an hour out from when everyone is supposed to meet us at the clubhouse.”

“Sure, angel.”

He makes the turn to drive toward the high school that is right outside of the city limits, a private school that all of the MC kids go to, and that includes the Devil Souls MC, which is an MC that is close to ours.

The anxiety that fills me at the sight of this school is unreal. If it were up to me, I’d never step foot in here again and have someone grab the work for me.

But my science teacher said I needed to come in to learn the specific instructions for some of the science experiments.

“Are you okay?” he asks me, and I take my eyes away from some of the students that are walking around in the courtyard.

“Just nervous. I didn’t leave school on the best terms,” I tell him as I gather my courage.

“I’m going to go in with you,” he declares, and walks over to the passenger side to help me out.

My nerves have my skin tingling with anxiety as I take his outstretched hand, and we walk hand in hand into the school.

As we approach the front desk, the familiar face of Mrs. Simmons greets us with a smile. Her eyes flicker between Christopher and me, a hint of curiosity in her gaze. She waves us through without a word, her nod of recognition a silent acknowledgment of our presence.

It’s so eerie to be back here as I notice a few of the students in the hallway staring at me.

As we walk, the hushed whispers and not-so-subtle stares of my former classmates follow us like a wave. I catch snippets of their conversations, my name repeated in low tones that set my teeth on edge.

"Is that Elle?"

"I thought she dropped out…"

Christopher tucks me into his side like he can shield me from their looks and gossip.

"You okay, angel?" he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.

I nod, not trusting my voice. The lump in my throat threatens to choke me as we pass a group of girls I once called friends. Their eyes widen as they spot me, a mix of shock and something that looks like jealously and anger, maybe?

Memories flood back. The day I told them what happened, my voice shaking as I poured out my heart. Their initial shock and sympathy that quickly morphed into disbelief and judgment. The whispered accusations of attention-seeking, of being dramatic. The way they slowly but surely pulled away, leaving me alone when I needed them most.

When they threw up the fact that shit happens when you’re drunk and a ton of people don’t remember what happens after the fact.

"Drama queen," I hear one of them whisper, the words cutting through the air like a knife.

Christopher's body goes rigid beside me, his muscles tensing like a coiled spring. I can feel the anger radiating from him, his jaw clenched so tight I worry he might crack a tooth. For a moment, I think he might let it go, but then one of the girls—Erika, I think—lets out a cruel little laugh.

"Look at her, pretending to be all grown up with her boyfriend," she sneers, loud enough for us to hear. "As if getting knocked up makes her special."

Christopher's eyes, usually warm when they look at me, have turned to chips of ice as he glares at the group of girls.

"What did you just say?" he growls loudly.

The girls freeze, their smug expressions faltering as they take in Christopher's imposing form. He towers over them, muscles taut beneath his shirt.

"N-nothing," one of them stammers, but it's too late.

Christopher takes a step forward, and I can feel the barely contained fury radiating from him in waves. "You think this is funny?" he snarls. "You think what happened to Elle is a joke?"

The hallway has gone deathly quiet, every eye fixed on the unfolding scene.

I want to shrink into myself, to disappear, but Christopher's arm around me keeps me anchored.

"You call yourselves her friends?" he continues, his voice rising. "Where the fuck were you when she needed you? When she was scared and alone and hurting?"

One of the girls, Amber, finds her voice. "We didn't know?—"

"Bullshit!" Christopher roars, making everyone flinch. "You knew. You just didn't care. You were too fucking worried about your precious reputations to stand by her." He takes another step forward, and the girls instinctively back away. "Let me make something very clear," he says, his voice dropping to a menacing tone. "If I ever hear you talking shit about Elle again, if I even catch you looking at her the wrong way, you'll regret it. Do you understand me?"

The girls nod frantically, their faces pale with fear. Christopher's not done, though. He turns, addressing the gathering crowd of students.

"That goes for all of you," he announces. "Elle is under my protection. Anyone who has a problem with her has a problem with me. And trust me, you don't want that."

The silence that follows is deafening. I can feel the weight of dozens of stares, a mixture of fear and awe.

Christopher turns back to me, his expression softening as he meets my gaze.

"Come on, angel," he murmurs, guiding me past the stunned onlookers. "Let's get what you need and get out of here."

I lean into Christopher's side, overwhelmed by what just happened.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head, his arm tightening around me. "Always, Elle. Always."

We reach the science room and I sigh in relief. My teacher has study hour right now, so we got here at the perfect time.

I knock on the door and I can see through the window that he’s sitting at his desk.

“Yo, Christopher, how have you been?” one of the football players calls out to him.

Christopher looks at me to make sure I’m good. “I will be fine in here.”

"Elle! It's so good to see you," Mr. Evans says, his voice warm with genuine enthusiasm when I step into the room. He stands up, pushing his chair back with a soft scrape against the linoleum floor.

"Hi, Mr. Evans," I reply, my voice softer than I intended. "I'm here to pick up the rest of my assignments."

He comes around the desk, his lab coat swishing softly as he moves. Before I can react, he's enveloping me in a quick hug. The unexpected contact makes me stiffen for a moment, but I force myself to relax. This is Mr. Evans, after all. The one who drove me home that night, concern etched into every line of his face.

"It's really nice to see you too," I manage, awkwardly patting his back. The hug lingers a beat too long, and I can feel my heart rate picking up. I take a small step back, trying to create some distance without being rude.

“So, you never did tell me the rush of finishing all of your credits to graduate early.” He takes the stacks of papers from a drawer to the edge of the desk for me to take.

Did he not hear?

“I’m expecting, and I wanted to wrap everything up before my baby arrives.” I place my hand on my slight little bump, feeling a rush of happiness.

There is a loud crash after he hears the news and I jump back in shock at the sight of his coffee cup knocked onto the floor, shattering.

“Well, congratulations,” he says, taking a step toward me like he is going to hug me again, a weird expression on his face.

The door is opened, saving me from the awkwardness with Christopher standing there. “Thank you,” Christopher answers Mr. Evans.

"Of course," Mr. Evans says, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Take care of yourself, Elle. And remember, if you need anything at all, I'm here for you."

My teacher’s face drops when Christopher walks in farther.

“Nice to see you again, Christopher. How is life?” he asks him before throwing some paper towels onto the floor to soak up the coffee.

They have a few minutes of small talk, and Christopher takes the schoolwork from me so he can carry it.

I look over at Mr. Evans one last time, waving to him over my shoulder.

We hurry our way out of the school, thankful that it’s over with—the heat of everyone’s gazes following us.

“God, I’m so glad that I’ve already graduated,” Christopher tells me, opening the back seat to set the papers down. I open the passenger door and Christopher lifts me in, setting me on the seat. “Are you okay?” he asks me.

I nod, letting out a deep breath. “It just gives me a lot of anxiety. I have never understood why girls are so catty.”

He cups my jaw. “You’re so fucking strong after everything that has happened.”

I smile and rest my forehead on his chest, breathing in his scent and loving how safe he makes me feel, feeling so much better.

“Let’s go tell everyone about our baby girl.”

Excitement flows through me at the thought of my daughter, and I can’t wait to see my parents’ reactions after finding out we’re having a girl.

Almost everyone in the club is waiting for us inside when we arrive. Christopher holds the cupcakes in one hand and takes my hand in the other.

My mom starts grinning from ear to ear, and my dad is smiling, too, holding her to his side and keeping her from running toward us.

I’m glad we got three dozen cupcakes, because almost everyone has shown up today.

“We got cupcakes with the center of it the color of the baby’s gender,” I explain and open a box of the cupcakes, holding them up for everyone to take one. “Everyone will take a bite all at once.”

It makes me teary-eyed at seeing everyone here for me. My dad walks up to me first, kissing my forehead before taking a cupcake, and my mom joins him with a hug before taking one.

Lane and Amelia, Christophers parents, are right behind my parents. Amelia touches my cheek sweetly. “You’re glowing, sweet girl. Congratulations to the both of you.” She looks between me and her son. In a way, she is giving her approval that she is okay with this.

I hand the box of cupcakes off to someone else then I pull her into a tight hug, not even realizing how much I needed to hear that.

Next to pull me into a hug is Tiffany, who is Christopher’s sister. “I knew you and my brother were going to be endgame.” She pats my back, taking a cupcake and smiling.

One by one, they approach. Aiden and Grace with their children—Reid, who is currently training with Christopher, Leah, and the twins, Jake and Alex. Next are Travis and Bailey, along with their kids, Gabby and Gabriel. Joslyn and Wilder arrive with their four children, Mason, Cole, Harlan, and Olivia, with Mason also training alongside Christopher. Lastly, Tristan and Lynn from the Grim Sinners Club come forward with their children, Michaela, Zane, and Trinity.

Some members of the Devil Souls MC are present as well, including the president, Kyle, and his partner, Chrystal. Shaylin and Butcher—Christopher's aunt and uncle—are here with their own children, Tiana and Zach. I feel immense joy seeing all of them gathered here for this occasion.

At this point, everyone has a cupcake in hand, eagerly waiting for us to give the signal.

"Three, two, one, GO!" Christopher and I shout together.

Everyone takes a bite at the same time, then look down at the bitten cakes to see the color.

Then, an eruption of cheers fills the room as everyone sees the pink filling inside their cupcakes. "It's a girl!" Amelia shouts, and the room bursts into more applause and joy.

Tears stream down my face as I look at Christopher, his eyes equally filled with tears of happiness. He pulls me into a tight embrace, whispering, "We’re having a daughter."

Around us, friends and family hug and congratulate us.

My parents join the chorus of congratulations, their faces beaming with pride. My dad's eyes are moist as he kisses my forehead again, whispering, "We're so happy for you, sweetheart."

This moment, surrounded by everyone we love, feels like a dream. The room is filled with laughter and tears. As I look around, I am overwhelmed by the love and support of our family and friends. This is more than I could have ever hoped for, and I know our little girl will be loved beyond measure.

That is what matters. It doesn’t matter how she was conceived because right now, this moment is what matters the most.

Stalker

D oes she really think she can just move on from me? Our love? The way she smiled at me like I was the only man on earth?

I waited until she was ready, until it was time for her to realize she was mine.

We had one night together, and I had to slip her something so she would just accept our love. I thought once she knew who I was and how good I could make her feel, she would fall in love with me. But she looked through me like I was a ghost.

Why can’t she see me? I have watched her for almost four years—and nothing.

We are soulmates.

They have her in such a tight hold that she can’t see me. Her family is evil, and I know they’ve brainwashed her.

I will make her see—I will rescue her from them.

And my baby.