Chapter 139: Baby Daddy 1
"Tomorrow... we start." Amara’s voice carried across the table, steady and full of something new belief.
"Listen," she added, her gaze moving from one face to another, "it’s going to be hard. Running a business is never easy... but I believe we can do this." A beat. Then..."Yes, ma’am!"
"We can do it!"
"We’re with you!" The room filled with energy, with voices, with something that felt like the beginning of a dream taking shape. James allowed himself a small, proud smile. And from the corner. Unseen. Unheard. Julian stood still.
Watching her. The way she spoke. The way she held herself. The way she turned uncertainty into direction. His chest tightened, but not from pain this time. From pride.
"That’s my girl..." he whispered quietly to himself. Not stepping forward. Not interrupting. Just... watching. Because for once. He didn’t want to break the moment.
But peace...Never lasted long. The sharp sound of raised voices shattered the calm outside. The gate. Shouting. Chaos. James was already on his feet. Amara’s expression shifted instantly, calm but alert.
Moments later, one of the security men rushed in. "I’m sorry, ma’am," he said quickly. "He won’t stop."
Amara didn’t need to ask who. Her jaw tightened slightly. "Let him in." James turned to her immediately. "Ma’am..." But she didn’t look at him. And that was answer enough.
He fell silent. Behind them, Julian’s hands clenched slowly at his sides. Sebastian. Every instinct in him screamed to move. To walk out. To end this. But he stopped himself. Because he knew. The moment he lost control... he would only make things worse for her.
And this time. He refused to be that man. The doors opened. Sebastian walked in. Like he belonged. Like he had every right. But what caught everyone off guard. Was what he was holding.
Baby items. Small. Carefully chosen. Soft blankets. Tiny clothes. A quiet, calculated display. Amara’s eyes dropped to them for a second. Then lifted back to his face.
Cold. Sharp. Unmoved. "What is this, Sebastian?" she asked, her voice cutting clean through the room.
A step forward. "What are you doing in my house... at this ungodly hour?" Sebastian didn’t answer immediately. His eyes lingered on her. Taking her in to measure. Searching for cracks that weren’t there. "I came to see you," he said finally, lifting the bag slightly. "And my child." The air shifted. Instantly. Julian’s jaw tightened in the shadows. Amara didn’t blink.
Didn’t react the way Sebastian expected. Instead....She stepped closer. Slow. Deliberate. Until she stood right in front of him. Her gaze dropped to the items in his hand again. Then back to his eyes.
"If you think..." she said quietly, her voice dangerously calm, "that you can walk in here with gifts and pretend as if this is okay,"
A small pause. Her lips pressed into a thin line. "You’re more delusional than I thought." The room went still. Sebastian’s smile faltered...
Just slightly. But it was there. Because this....This wasn’t the reaction he planned for. And for the first time tonight....He realized something had changed. Amara wasn’t reacting.
She was controlling. And that... That made her far more dangerous than before.
The night had settled into that quiet, fragile kind of stillness, the kind that felt like it could shatter with just one wrong word.
And then Sebastian spoke. "I’m sorry, Amara... I really am."
His voice was softer than she remembered. Careful. Almost rehearsed. He stood at the entrance like a man who didn’t belong there, yet refused to leave, arms full of neatly packed baby items, tiny clothes peeking out from glossy bags, a soft blanket draped over the top like some kind of peace offering.
"I was out, and I saw these things... I couldn’t help it," he continued, swallowing hard. "Listen, I know how hard this moment is for you. I know how much you wish you didn’t have to think about any of this. I know you, Amara."
A pause. The kind that stretched too long.
"I just want to be here for you. That’s all I want. To be here... not asking for anything." His grip tightened on the bags. "I don’t care if the baby is mine or not it doesn’t matter. I just want to help."
Behind him, the night air carried the faint rustle of the security team shifting uncomfortably, unsure whether to intervene.
Inside...Julian stood still. Too still. Every muscle in his body was locked, coiled tight beneath that calm exterior. His jaw clenched so hard it ached, his hands slowly curling into fists at his sides. It took everything in him, everything to remain where he was.
To let Amara handle this. To trust her. Sebastian’s voice broke again, softer this time. "I really hope you’ll accept this... for our child’s sake. I’ll do better."
Amara looked at him. Truly looked at him. And then... she shook her head. Slowly.
Disappointed. Not angry not even close. And somehow, that hurt more. "Look at this, Mr. Creed." Her voice was calm. Too calm.
"My husband will not like this, coming into our home at this ungodly hour, bringing..." She gestured lightly at the bags, her lips pressing together in faint disdain. "What exactly? Guilt wrapped in ribbons?"
A beat. "Please take it back. And kindly refrain from such stupidity next time." Her gaze hardened, sharp and unyielding.
"So please... leave." Sebastian exhaled, running a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to hold onto whatever composure he had left.
"I know you and I... we’ve had a rough path in the past..."
"Rough path?" Amara echoed the words as they offended her.
There it was. That flicker of emotion.
Her hand moved instinctively to her belly, protective, grounding, and as she did, the light caught the diamond on her finger.
The ring. Julian’s ring. Not subtle. Not accidental. A statement. Sebastian’s eyes dropped to it. And stayed there.
"Listen, I get it," he said quietly, though his voice had lost some of its earlier certainty. Amara tilted her head slightly, her expression almost curious now.
"So you do?" she asked. Soft. Dangerously soft. Because this wasn’t about anger anymore. This was about truth.
From across the room, Julian finally moved. Just one step forward. Not enough to interrupt but enough to be seen. Enough to remind.