“You focus on your pregnancy,” Atticus replied. “I’ll handle your mother’s matters.” His gaze softened, resting on her. “Clarissa… do you still trust me?”

She shook her head. “I remember all the times you lied to me before.”

“You still need to be punished.”

Clarissa’s lips curved into a sly smile. “If you want me to trust you… show me.”

Her voice dropped, warm and intimate. “I’ll punish you… by making you prove it with your whole life.”

Atticus’s heart raced. Clarissa’s eyes dropped, shyness coloring her cheeks, but before she could retreat, he grasped her hand.

Gently, he lifted her onto the bed. She was almost five months along now, and the baby’s position was stable. He traced the slight curve of her belly, his voice low, hoarse with emotion. “Anything bothering you?”

“No…” Clarissa whispered, her face flushing. Her pregnancy had gone so smoothly that if her belly weren’t rounding, she might have doubted she was even pregnant.

Atticus kissed her forehead, letting his lips trail lightly across her cheek before meeting hers in a soft, urgent kiss. Just as he tried to go further, Clarissa pressed her hand to his chest, breathing fast, cheeks blazing. “Grandpa’s still next door… maybe we should talk later.”

At that moment, a loud cough followed by a sharp slap came from outside. “Cough! Cough! Cough!”

A dark line of annoyance crossed Atticus’s face. That old man… always timing things perfectly.

He muttered her name in frustration, but Clarissa reached up, stroking the back of his head. “Sweetheart… go to sleep.”

But Atticus couldn’t. He helped her settle, then stormed off to take a cold shower, letting the shock cool the fire in his chest.

When he returned, Clarissa was asleep, her face serene. He rested his rough, warm hand on her belly and felt a flood of unprecedented warmth.

He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes.

.....

By the next morning, Atticus was up before dawn as usual. In a week, he had fully renovated and cleaned Callum’s property—inside and out. Seeing the new house and cellar, Callum finally gave him some relief.

On the way home, the car was loaded with medicinal herbs and tonics. Callum scowled at Atticus’s sports car. “This thing can’t hold much. Don’t drive this beat-up car next time. Aren’t you capable of being a little more responsible? You always bring these fancy things…”

“Grandpa, that’s enough. You can come see me anytime. I’ll visit often too.”

Callum waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t come! Don’t run around while pregnant. I’ll come at your due date—no, next month. Can’t risk anything in the last three months…”

Atticus suppressed a grin. He and Clarissa exchanged relieved sighs as the car rolled forward.

“Clarissa, you’re heartless!” he said, mock accusatory. “I’m suffering under Mr. Callum, and you’re just watching.”

She laughed. “Silly boy… sometimes the best help is doing nothing.”

Atticus stole a glance at her, struck again by her beauty. Pregnancy had softened her, giving her a luminous, ethereal aura. Her features were gentler, more delicate than ever. He forced himself to focus on driving.

After a day of rest, he took her to the hospital for a prenatal checkup. The director, seeing them, personally came out to greet them and led Clarissa and her entourage to the top floor.

“Clarissa, please sit. It’s cold outside—have some tea to warm yourself.”

“Thank you, Director.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a warm smile. If he could please Clarissa, his days would be much easier. But then he caught Atticus’s sharp gaze and quickly turned to avoid it.

“Mr. Atticus, some tea for you as well,” the director stammered, pouring a cup. “There’s a room available here anytime. Here’s the key.”

Atticus simply nodded and accepted it.

“After Madam recovers, will you continue working here?” the director asked cautiously.

“We’ll discuss it after she gives birth,” Atticus replied.

The director smiled faintly. “Then I won’t disturb you any longer. Take your time.”

Clarissa turned to Atticus, curiosity in her eyes. “You saved the dean’s family?”

Atticus’s lips twitched. “He knows some of my secrets. That old fox.”

Clarissa shook her head. Over the past months, he’d gradually revealed the scope of his businesses to her, including pharmaceutical ventures and property agreements. Sorting through it all had taken her weeks.

“So… I’m rich now?”

“Wait until I die,” Atticus said with a teasing smirk, “but marrying me, it’s basically the same.”

Clarissa laughed. “Then let’s wait until we’re married.”

Atticus performed his usual prenatal checkup on Clarissa. As he examined the X-rays, his expression darkened slightly, a flicker of concern in his otherwise calm face.

“What’s wrong? Is something wrong with the baby?” Clarissa asked, a trace of worry in her voice.

“No, the baby is perfectly healthy,” Atticus replied, his gaze lingering on her. “But… this pregnancy… it looks like there might be twins.”

Clarissa’s eyes widened. Her hand instinctively went to her belly. “Twins? Oh… that would be amazing! Maybe a boy and a girl?”

“Does it matter?” Atticus asked, his tone even but firm.

Clarissa shook her head, smiling softly. “No… it’s perfect just as it is.”

Atticus’s brow remained furrowed. Twins would be a heavier burden on Clarissa’s body, making the pregnancy and delivery more dangerous. His mind couldn’t stop running through every possible precaution.

That night, Clarissa rested in his arms, her breath warm against his chest. “Atticus…” she whispered, “if I hadn’t gone to find you back then… would you have really done it? Really committed suicide?”

“Yes,” he admitted softly.

“You’re such an idiot.”

Atticus’s hand moved to gently stroke her belly. “Terrifying, right? Even now, it’s not too late to regret it.”

Clarissa pressed herself closer, a small laugh escaping her lips. “The baby’s almost here… how could I regret it? No… even if there weren’t a child, I’d never regret it. Ever.”

“No matter what kind of man you are—selfish, petty, jealous—I will love you. Because I love you, I’ll love everything about you.”

“Atticus…” she murmured, her fingers curling into his. “I love you. I don’t want anyone but you. From now on, you can be willful, jealous, selfish, and petty in front of me… and I’ll still love you.”

Atticus’s chest tightened, the words settling into him like sunlight breaking through cold stone. “Clarissa… can you say it again? A few more times?”

She smiled, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Okay… I’ll say it as many times as you want, until you get tired of hearing it. I love you… I love you… I love you…”

With every repetition, a gentle warmth spread across his face. That rare, quiet smile—the one reserved only for her—softened the hardness in his features.

He held her close, his heart, once distant and guarded, now fully alight with the simple, unshakable glow of love.

Clarissa… I love you too. So much… so damn much.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by lotustale.com