THE PREGNANT MAID AND THE BILLIONAIRE
The main hall of the mansion in Angra dos Reis sparkled like a jewel. It was the grand annual charity dinner, the most talked-about event of the season. Businessmen, politicians, and celebrities chatted animatedly under the massive crystal chandeliers while waiters moved about with trays of champagne glasses.
Among them was Amara, a young employee who had been working in the house for only a few months. Five months pregnant, she insisted on continuing her job despite her obvious exhaustion. Her trembling hands, the sweat on her forehead, and her slow movements made it clear that her body could no longer keep up.
But no one seemed to notice.
Until—Crash!
The sharp sound of shattering glass echoed like thunder through the hall.
Conversations stopped at once. Everyone turned.
Amara stood frozen, surrounded by the shards of the glasses she had just dropped. Her wide, desperate eyes showed that this was exactly what she feared most.
Before she could speak, a cutting voice tore through the room:
— “USELESS!”
It was Verônica, Hunter Cross’s fiancée—the billionaire who owned the mansion. Elegant, arrogant, and feared, she strode forward, her dress gleaming like a blade under the light.
— “I told Hunter it was a mistake to hire someone like you!” she snapped.
Amara swallowed hard, trying to stand.
— “I’m sorry… I… I—”
— “Shut up!” Verônica barked, stepping so close that her heels nearly touched Amara’s pregnant belly.
Amara backed away, instinctively protecting her stomach.
— “Please… don’t hurt me… it already hurts…” she begged, her voice trembling.
The entire hall watched, frozen. No one dared intervene.
Verônica raised her hand, ready to strike.
But before the blow came down, a firm, deep voice broke through the tension:
— “Enough, Verônica.”
All heads turned.
Hunter Cross approached them. Tall, imposing, his expression was serious—but what stood out most was his gaze. Not anger. Not fury.
Disappointment.
Verônica tried to recover her composure.
— “Honey, you saw what this girl did! She—”
— “You’re fired.”
The room went dead silent.
— “What?” she laughed, incredulous. “Hunter, you can’t be—”
The security guards stepped forward at his subtle signal.
This time, Verônica didn’t laugh.
— “You can’t be serious! Over a little maid?!”
Hunter didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The coldness in his face said everything.
Verônica was escorted out, still protesting, while the guests pretended not to look—though every single one of them watched.
When the commotion finally ended, Hunter knelt beside Amara.
— “Can you stand?” he asked gently, surprising her.
She nodded, though she trembled like a leaf.
He helped her up with care, as if afraid to startle her further.
— “You need to see a doctor,” he said quietly. “And… you need a safe place.”
Amara stared at him, confused.
— “Sir… why? I’m nobody to you.”
Hunter hesitated for a moment. His dark eyes softened, revealing something he seemed to fight to hide.
— “You shouldn’t be ignored. And… no one should speak to you like that.”
A wave of relief washed over Amara—but also fear. Fear of what this meant.
Because that night, which began with humiliation and pain, would end holding a secret capable of changing both their destinies—a secret about Hunter’s past, the real reason behind his silent fury… and why he couldn’t take his eyes off her belly.
