Giving Birth to The Italian Billionaire’s Baby

Adaline’s POV

I glanced at the watch on my left wrist. Fifteen minutes until exactly five o’clock. I looked at Tessa, and she had already packed her bag. She was always punctual. I shook my head. In reality, I was also a punctual person. But under the current circumstances… I shook my head again.

“Wanna go home together?” Tessa finally asked. I looked at her and shook my head. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I could clearly see a flash of concern in Tessa’s eyes. To reassure her, I tried to smile, even though my chest felt erratic. My hands were already sweating from nervousness.

“If anything happens, talk to me. Don’t keep it to yourself,” she said again. Her attention was now focused on me. I responded with a weak nod.

Besides Joanna, I haven’t dared to tell anyone about this. Even though I’ve known Tessa for quite some time, there are things I can’t bring myself to talk to her about. It’s not that I don’t trust her; it’s just… Oh well, someday Tessa will find out.Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

After Tessa left, I glanced at my watch again and decided to go meet that man. I left my bag still hidden under the desk and headed to the floor where he was.

My legs grew weaker. My knees trembled as the elevator went higher. ‘Oh God, does it have to end up like this?’ I bit my mother’s fingernail as I usually did when nervous. The elevator bell rang. ‘Why is this floor so quiet? Am I not shooting a horror film?’ But that question only made me feel more terrified.

Even the sound of my own footsteps seemed frightening in my ears. For God’s sake, it’s still the afternoon, the sun hasn’t even set yet, so why does it feel so creepy?

I took a deep breath as the elevator doors opened, revealing the sign that read COO. Altezza Quirino was there. I walked towards the secretary’s desk, and the woman turned to look at me in surprise.

“Adaline?” she asked in confusion. I nodded my head, even though what I wanted to know was why she looked surprised. They had met before, hadn’t they?

“I need to meet with Sir Altezza. Is he busy?” I asked with my heart pounding faster. I couldn’t deny that I was scared, but whether I liked it or not, I had to face this.

Altezza’s secretary looked at me with an assessing gaze. What are you evaluating? I need to meet with Sir Altezza, even if the answer I need right now is “Yes, he’s busy,” or “He’s not here,” or maybe “He has a guest.” At least I could use that as an excuse and say that he broke the promise, not me.

But once again, my wish was not granted. Altezza’s secretary told me to go in right after she hung up the phone.

“With hesitant steps, I walked back towards the glass door and knocked on it. When the man inside told me to come in, I entered. Of course, not before taking a deep breath and trying to calm my pounding heart in a rather rude manner.

“Sir,” I greeted, which for some reason sounded more like a mouse’s squeak.

“Please have a seat. There are some documents I need to complete,” said the man, who didn’t even lift his head from the documents he was reading. Oh God, my existence seemed to be less important than the billions or even trillions worth of paper in front of him.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm my racing heart and chose to sit on the single sofa in the room. Five minutes passed in silence. All I could hear were the sounds of paper, the scratch of a pen, the click of the mouse used by the man, and, of course, occasionally the sound of a keyboard being typed. But that couldn’t drown out the beating of my heart, which seemed to be getting louder in my ears. Or was I the only one hearing it, as if my heart wanted to rebel and escape?

I almost screamed when Altezza’s secretary knocked on the door and bid farewell. So, now it’s just the two of us in this spacious room? Or maybe completely alone on this floor?

I heard the man occasionally tapping his pen on the table, but I was afraid to lift my head. The expensive carpet beneath me seemed more interesting at the moment. Comparing the price of the carpet to my cheap shoes became a more soothing sideline than diverting attention to the man. Because if I lifted my head, I would be directly facing him. It’s been ten minutes already. Don’t tell me he’s too engrossed in his work to notice me? Or is it because I’m too quiet that he genuinely forgot?

I hope after leaving this room, I won’t suffer a heart attack because my heart feels painful from beating too fast. And my stomach suddenly feels nauseous.

Okay. I won’t have a heart attack after this. But clearly, my acid reflux has acted up. Especially since my lunch consisted of just cola and half a sandwich.

Did that man raise the AC temperature? Why does it feel like the room temperature suddenly dropped? Even the fine hairs under my long-sleeved shirt stand on end, and I try to rub them gently. This silent atmosphere makes me uneasy.

I don’t want to lift my head, but that voice makes me do it unconsciously. When his baritone voice asks, ‘So, Miss Adaline Scott, do you have your answer?’ Those eyes, as if hypnotizing me. Is it just my feeling, or is it indeed a fact that the man is looking at me with a slightly melancholic gaze?

Not melancholic in a sad way. No. I’m sure it’s not that. But melancholic in another sense.

I can’t find the right words to explain it. One thing’s for sure, that gaze gives me an indistinct shiver. No longer because of the cold, but because of another feeling that I don’t even know what to call it.