Chapter 868: Pregnant Revelations

"They, um..." She glanced at me, at Charlotte, at Ms. Chen—then at Rory, who was still coloring but absolutely listening with the focus of a tiny FBI agent.

"They say you’re not a snitch."

Ms. Chen blinked. "Not a snitch?"

"Like... you don’t report small mistakes to corporate. You handle things in-house." Vanessa’s lips quirked, the first real sign of ease she’d shown all night. "Someone said you run the kitchen like a warden who actually wants her inmates to get rehabilitated instead of shanked."

The table erupted.

Charlotte’s laugh burst out bright and surprised, the kind that came from being caught off guard. Ms. Chen actually snorted—a short, undignified sound she immediately tried to disguise by clearing her throat, sitting up straighter as if posture alone could erase the evidence.

Even Rory looked up from her napkin masterpiece, grinning at the

contagious

adult joy she didn’t fully understand.

"I like her,"

Charlotte said, lifting her wine glass toward Vanessa like she was toasting her.

"She is funny," I agreed easily.

Then I turned back to Ms. Chen, rearranging my face into exaggerated wounded betrayal again, like I was starring in a soap opera written by a dramatic teenager.

"But you."

I pointed at her like she’d personally ruined my life. "Charlotte, can you believe this? I was with her just a few days ago and she never mentioned she got a new job. Imagine my surprise when I walked into the manager’s office and found her sitting there."

Ms. Chen raised both hands in surrender. "In my defense, I was still processing it myself.

Tommy pulled strings to get me this position

—

I still don’t fully understand how, this restaurant has a three-year waiting list for management roles

—and everything happened so fast."

"Tommy?"

Charlotte’s eyebrows rose.

"He knows people who know people. Says, it is thanks to his new

’job’,"

Ms. Chen said, shaking her head slowly like the entire concept still offended her sense of logic. "One day I’m serving drinks, the next I’m running a restaurant that charges more for a salad than I used to make in a week."

"And you couldn’t tell me this?" I pressed, leaning in like she’d committed a personal betrayal.

"Eros." Ms. Chen gave me a look.

Not a glare. Not annoyance.

A look like a woman who had seen too much, survived worse, and had absolutely no intention of unpacking any of it in front of a child and two billionaires.

"The

’situation’

we were in didn’t exactly

permit

casual career updates."

Charlotte’s expression shifted—knowing, amused, her lips curling as if she’d just been handed the missing puzzle piece.

Vanessa’s cheeks flushed instantly. She’d arrived at the same conclusion in real time and clearly didn’t know where to put her eyes now.

Even Rory leaned forward slightly, chin propped on her hands, watching the adults with the intense concentration of a child who knew the grown-ups were talking about Something Important... even if she didn’t know what.

I chuckled.

Then, without warning, I reached over and scooped Rory into my lap in one smooth motion.

She squealed, delighted, settling against my chest like she’d known me her whole life—like my arms were simply where she belonged now.

"You want to know what Ms. Chen is talking about?" I whispered to her, loud enough for everyone at the table to hear.

Rory nodded vigorously, eyes wide, fully invested.

"We were at a birthday party," I said solemnly. "A very serious birthday party. With clowns."

"Clowns?" Rory gasped, like I’d said demons.

"Terrifying clowns," I continued gravely. "The kind with the big red noses and the floppy shoes. Ms. Chen was so scared she hid behind the cake table for an hour."

Ms. Chen made a strangled noise of outrage.

"That’s not—"

"She’s very brave normally," I added, talking over her like she wasn’t even there. "But clowns are her weakness. We don’t talk about it because it’s embarrassing for her."

The clown being a very big, beautiful godly cock.

Rory turned to Ms. Chen with deep, sincere sympathy, like she’d just found out the woman had a terminal illness.

"It’s okay," Rory said gently. "I don’t like clowns either.

They have weird smiles."

Ms. Chen stared at her.

Then at me.

Then back at Rory.

And for one second, the manager mask slipped entirely.

"...Thank you," she managed. "That’s very understanding of you."

Charlotte was shaking with silent laughter, shoulders trembling. Vanessa had both hands over her mouth, eyes wet—not from fear this time, but from the pure ridiculous relief of it all.

The tension that had gripped the table earlier had dissolved completely. Melted away like ice in warm water.

Replaced by something rare.

Something real.

Vanessa relaxing.

Rory happy.

Ms. Chen settling into her new authority like she’d been born for it.

Charlotte—finally, finally—at peace.

It was the kind of moment humans spent their whole lives chasing without knowing it.

My family.

Expanding. Growing. Finding each other in strange corners of the world, in unexpected restaurants, in stolen conversations and laughter over overpriced wine.

I opened my mouth to say something—probably another terrible joke at Ms. Chen’s expense—

When ARIA’s voice sliced through my thoughts like a blade.

"Master..."

The shift was instant.

Not because the voice was loud.

But because ARIA never interrupted unless the world was on fire.

I kept my face neutral. Kept Rory balanced on my knee. Kept my hand steady on the stem of my wine glass, even as something cold threaded itself through my spine.

"Yes?"

I asked calmly.

"I have news that requires immediate attention."

"I’m in the middle of—"

"Your mom is pregnant with your child!"

The world stopped.

Not metaphorically.

It was as if reality itself had paused, holding its breath.

Everything—the laughter, the warmth, the easy banter—froze in a single crystalline moment, fragile as glass.

My smile didn’t fall.

But it stopped being real.

My chest tightened so hard it felt like someone had reached inside and squeezed my heart in their fist.

"...What?"

"Linda Carter," ARIA repeated, her voice carrying that particular tone—clinical, precise, careful—the tone of an intelligence delivering information it knew would detonate like a bomb. "Your adoptive mother. Is pregnant. She confirmed herself seventeen seconds ago. Confirmation is absolute."

My fingers tightened around the wine glass.

Rory shifted slightly in my lap, sensing the change even if she didn’t understand it. Children always sensed storms before adults admitted the sky had darkened.

The warmth at the table didn’t vanish all at once.

It drained slowly.

Like blood leaving a body.

And all I could think was—

Linda?

Pregnant?

After everything?

After the years.

The universe had finally answered her.

And it had chosen

now

.

My voice came out quieter than I intended.

Almost empty.

"...Are you sure?"

ARIA didn’t hesitate.

"Yes."

One word.

A verdict.

A miracle.

A catastrophe.

And as I sat there with a little girl on my lap and a table full of women laughing just moments ago—

I realized something terrifying.

This wasn’t a wish.

This wasn’t a joke.

This was the kind of revelation that rewrote lives.

And gods didn’t get to pretend they were surprised when fate finally called them back to work.