Chapter 4 Rules and regulations

"You're up early."

Damian's voice pulled Elena from her thoughts. She stood barefoot in the massive kitchen, pouring herself a glass of orange juice. The cold condensation trickling down her fingers. She turned around-startled by his appearance. Damian stood in the doorway, dressed in joggers and a plain black T-shirt. His hair was slightly damp due to sweat. It seems like he was out for a morning run.

It was the first time she'd seen him looking so simple- less billionaire, but more human-real.

"I couldn't sleep," she admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "The bed's too soft."

He raised a brow-stepping into the kitchen. "Too soft?"

She shrugged and leaned against the counter. "I'm not used to living a luxurious life. I don't like pretending to be luxurious either. It makes me feel like a different person."

For a fraction of second, Damian was stunned by her words. Which woman didn't love luxurious life? All of them liked being pampered in their whole lives. Now this one infront of him boldly stated that she doesn't like what she currently have. Is it really true, or she's only acting like a hypocrite?

Damian's lips tugged with an almost amused smile. It was actually a mocking smile but to Elena-it was a kind of rare smile that transformed his face in a way that caught her breath.

"I'll have a firmer mattress delivered." He said coolly.

"You don't need to do that," she refused quickly.

She didn't mean everything she said. She was only trying tto say that she's uncomfortable in this kind of living-it's not all about the mattress at all.

"I don't want to treat the one in your belly poorly," he gestured vaguely toward her stomach, and for a split second, something warm flashed in his eyes.

Elena sipped her juice in silence, looking away. It still felt surreal for her to live under the same roof with the father of her child. The man who should have hated her more than anyone.

"I scheduled your first doctor's appointment," Damian said, his voice smoother as he walked to the counter. "Friday-10 a.m."

Elena didn't respond. She only blinked her eyes at him.

"I'll be coming with you."

"You don't have to," she refused again, her hear beats fast.

She had no idea why she always felt nervy whenever he's offering her some merits when he's clearly doing this favor solely for the child..

"I want to," he said simply. But there was steel beneath the softness. His tone left no room for argument.

The air between them thickened, charged with things unsaid. After a long pause, she nodded once.

"Fine. But I have conditions too."

He turned to face her fully-intrigued. "Such as?"

"I don't want to be controlled in every move I make," she said firmly. "I will get back to work whenever I want-go out if I need to. I'm staying here for the baby, not your prisoner."

He studied her for a long moment, then inclined his head once. "Fair. But you don't leave without security."

She groaned in disagreement. "Seriously? I'm not some delicate woman."

"Elena." His voice cut through hers, calm but firm. "You are carrying my child. That makes you a target of my enemies. And until I'm absolutely sure your father isn't planning something, I won't take chances. Not with you. Not with the baby."

She narrowed her eyes. "You really think my dad would hurt me?"

"I don't think you knew Victor Ramirez well enough. He doesn't care about anyone but himself," Damian stated coldly.

Her stomach twisted at the name. She flinched, but didn't disagree. He wasn't wrong.

"Fine," she agreed in the end.

An awkward silence stretched between them-only their faint breathing filled the space. Finally, Damian checked his watch and looked at her for the last time.

"I have a meeting today. I'll be back this evening," he said and turned his heels without looking back.

Elena watched him disappear through the doorway. As the sound of his footsteps faded, she let out a slow exhale.

This was her life now. She need to get used to it.

The days passed in a strange rhythm slow, and quiet. Elena spent her time sketching rough designs at the breakfast table, reading baby books that made her alternately excited and terrified at the same time. And as much as she can, she's avoiding the tension that always seemed to spark when she and Damian were in the same room.

He was polite as always. Every interaction between them felt like it had been rehearsed. Like he was sticking to some invisible script of how a responsible father should act. Not cold, exactly, but controlled. Like he didn't trust himself to feel anything real.

But there were some fleeting, fragile moments when his mask cracked. Like when he brought her a cup of decaf coffee with almond milk- no sugar-exactly the same to her preferencs. She hadn't tell him about it, nor asked to bought it for her. He'd just overheard her mention how much she missed it. She didn't expect he was closely paying attention to every small details.

Or when she caught him standing outside her door, hand raised to knock, but only to turn away at the last second. Or the way his gaze sometimes drifted to her belly with warmth in his eyes..

Those moments were the things she wanted to disguise, because they always made her heart flutter.

One evening, Elena stood on the balcony of the penthouse, arms folded as she stared at the glittering Manhattan skyline. The city was a sea of lights and motion, but from this high up, it looked almost peaceful. She didn't hear Damian approach until he spoke behind her.

"Beautiful view, isn't it?"

She turned slightly, nodding. "You can almost pretend the city's quiet from up here."

He joined her in the balcony-standing a bit closer, his hands tucked into his pockets. For a long moment, neither of them said anything. And the silence felt fine.

Elena broke the slience,and asked why did you hate my father so much?

He didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was rougher than usual. "He lied. He stole. My father built his company from nothing, and Victor your father stripped it down, piece by piece. He blackmailed our suppliers, destroyed our reputation, made sure no one in the industry would work with us again. When my dad tried to fight back... he was blacklisted. We lost everything."

Elena swallowed hard. "I didn't know."

"You weren't supposed to." He turned to her now, eyes dark but not angry. "You were kept away from all of it, weren't you?"

She nodded slowly. "My mom left him when I was fourteen. I stayed with her. I haven't spoken to him since I turned eighteen."

He studied her with an unreadable expression. "Then maybe you're not like him."

"I'm not," she said, louder this time. "And neither is this baby."

His gaze dropped to her belly again,

"I know," he said quietly.

They stood there until the wind picked up, brushing through her hair and his shirt. But the silence between them no longer felt heavy

Later that night, Elena sat cross-legged on her bed, flipping through a pregnancy journal she'd picked up earlier in the week. The pages were filled with calming pastel illustrations, space for milestones, and prompts she hadn't yet brought herself to fill in.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in."

Damian stepped inside, holding a small white box. "I got you something."

She blinked, surprised. "Why?"

He hesitated, then shrugged. "I don't know. It felt... right."

He held it out to her, and she opened it slowly. Inside was a delicate silver necklace simple and elegant. A tiny charm dangled from it in the shape of a heartbeat line.

"It's for the baby," he said, watching her reaction carefully. "At the first ultrasound... you'll hear it. I thought maybe you'd want something to remember it by."

Elena stared down at the pendant, her throat tight.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He nodded, but didn't move right away. His gaze lingered on her, softer than she'd ever seen it. Then, almost reluctantly, he turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

She held the charm close to her chest.

Damian Lancaster might have been her father's enemy.

But somewhere between resentment and reality... something else was beginning to grow.

And that whatever it was scared her more than anything.