Eric paused slightly; clearly, nothing could escape Ella’s intuition. She wasn’t a fool—Tiffany had already been buried, yet her fans were still causing trouble. It had to be soone deliberately targeting her.
"Nothing you need to worry about. Even if there were sothing, I wouldn’t let it trouble you. Your job is to relax and focus on having a healthy, chubby baby girl for . Got it?" Eric leaned closer, his lips brushing gently against hers.
Ella’s brows furrowed slightly, a trace of annoyance flashing across her face. "I must be cursed to attract troublemakers. No matter where I go, I always seem to have enemies."
Eric chuckled softly, his hand tenderly smoothing her frown. "Silly girl, it’s because you’re too exceptional. That’s why people try to tear you down."
Ella’s lips curved into a small smile. To Eric, she was always the best.
Reaching up, she lightly traced his face with her fingers. "Honey, if I have a son, would you still love him as much?"
"Of course!" Eric replied warmly, his eyes glowing with a luxurious tenderness. "If it’s a son, and he looks like you, he’ll be just as handso. No matter who he resembles, I’ll love him all the sa."
Ella smiled knowingly. She already anticipated his answer. His deep, unconditional love made her feel as though she was bathed in sunlight. It didn’t matter whether she had a boy or a girl; Eric’s affection for her wouldn’t waver.
Mia knocked on the door, bringing in the oranges the bodyguard had purchased. Eric began peeling one ticulously, handing the segnts to Ella.
The tangy, sweet flavor made Ella scrunch her nose but also seed unusually appetizing. Normally, she couldn’t stand sour foods, but pregnancy had shifted her tastes. Foods she once disliked now seed irresistible, while her usual favorites beca unpalatable.
"How is it? Feeling better now?" Eric asked, watching her relish the orange with evident satisfaction. His heart swelled with joy—just seeing her eat was enough to make him grateful.
"It’s perfect... so tasty. Here, try so!" Ella held out a slice to Eric.
He took a bite, his face twisting as the sourness nearly made his teeth ache. Swallowing with a gulp, he frowned and grimaced slightly.
Ella burst into laughter. "It’s sour, isn’t it? I knew you don’t like sour things either. For a second, I thought your tastes might have changed like mine!"
Eric laughed helplessly and pulled her into his arms. "You little minx. Do you think I’m a woman who can experience pregnancy cravings?"
Ella giggled playfully. Eric hadn’t seen her in days, and now, with her soft and fragrant in his embrace, he felt his throat tighten. His mouth went dry as an unexpected wave of desire surged through him.
He pressed a kiss to her lips, his hands wandering instinctively. Ella, panting lightly and cheeks flushed, caught his hand. "Eric, no... We can’t, not for three months!"
Eric sighed in disappointnt, his breathing ragged. "Three months? You’re killing , you little tease."
Ella smirked mischievously. "Didn’t you say sothing about a blow-up doll?"
"Ella, you know I was joking," Eric replied, exasperated but amused. His hand rested gently on her stomach. "Little one, be good in there, okay? Don’t make Mommy suffer too much."
Ella laughed so hard her sides ached. No one outside their ho could imagine that the stoic, intimidating Eric could be so tender and playful in private.
"Is there anywhere else that’s uncomfortable? Tell , and I’ll take care of it," Eric asked, his voice laced with concern.
"My lower back feels a bit sore," Ella admitted, her tone lazy but content. Her spirits were brighter than ever.
It was clear—she was happiest when by Eric’s side.
Eric gently set Ella down on the bed, his strong hands massaging her lower back with careful precision. Ella closed her eyes, fully imrsed in the comfort of his attentive care.
anwhile, in the Living Room.
Lucas and Luke were engaged in a serious discussion about how to deal with the instigator of the fan riot at the airport.
The key culprits had been apprehended—youngsters, barely seventeen or eighteen years old.
Under questioning, they quickly admitted that they weren’t true fans of Tiffany. Instead, they had been hired to stir up trouble.
The trio revealed the details: they had received a call offering a payout to disrupt Ella at the airport. Each had been promised a payout of 10,000 to 20,000, with an advance paynt of 10,000 already transferred to their accounts.
Their role was to fan the flas of public outrage online, framing Ella as the person responsible for Tiffany’s death. By rallying genuine fans and whipping up their emotions, the scene at the airport escalated as planned.
Unfortunately, the person behind the paynts had used anonymous thods, leaving Lucas and Luke with no imdiate trail to follow.
"It aligns with what I suspected," Lucas remarked, his expression grim. "Soone is deliberately targeting Ella by orchestrating these incidents."
"But how did they know our flight details?" Luke interjected, his icy gaze betraying his anger.
"Perhaps soone is actively monitoring Ella," Luke continued thoughtfully. "Our long-ti staff has proven reliable over the years. It’s unlikely the information leaked internally."
Luke’s hand brushed his concealed holster, rembering the shot he fired at the airport. Firing a gun in Country S, where firearm possession is strictly controlled, was risky, but Luke didn’t regret it. Lucas’s influential standing and the self-defense context made it a non-issue legally.
"Regardless, we need to be vigilant going forward," Lucas said, his face set in a stormy scowl.
"By the way," Lucas added, turning to his son, "when do you plan to return to Country W?"
Luke hesitated before responding, his tone asured. "I’m not sure yet. I still have clients to et here. Wesley has been managing the operations in Country S, but he’s not the best at networking."
Wesley, Lucas’s nephew, was known for his brilliant business acun but lacked the charm and finesse needed to build relationships.
"You’re right about that," Lucas agreed. "Stay here and oversee things for now. We need to get to the bottom of this situation and ensure no threats linger near Ella."
"I will, Father," Luke said respectfully.
Lucas studied Luke for a mont before continuing, "And one more thing—this is their marital ho. It’s not appropriate for you to stay here. Move to a hotel. I want to spend so ti strengthening my bond with my daughter."
Luke’s chest tightened, and he lowered his head slightly. "Understood, Father," he murmured.
Even if Lucas hadn’t made the request, Luke knew he couldn’t stay.
He feared the emotions stirring within him. Left unchecked, they could take root, growing into sothing far too dangerous to harbor.
Luke cast one final glance around the villa. Its thoughtful design and inviting warmth set it apart from the grandeur of Country W’s properties.
This was their ho—a place that had witnessed their love, their dreams, and their future together.
And he? He didn’t belong.
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