Marrying My Father's Enemy-Chapter 166: Beatrice’s Pregnancy

Chapter 166: Beatrice’s Pregnancy

Walking across the campus, Beatrice’s head was vibrating about Henry.

It had been a week since the party, and the memory of their night together still sent a thrill through her.

She replayed it constantly, using it as fuel to convince herself that she had won.

Helen had to be out of the picture now—after everything.

But as she turned the corner near the library, her heart stopped.

There, just a few feet away, was Helen and Henry.

They weren’t arguing. They weren’t avoiding each other like she had hoped.

They were hugging.

Beatrice froze, the world around her blurred as rage boiled in her chest.

Henry’s arms were wrapped tightly around Helen, and Helen’s face was pressed against his shoulder.

They looked...intimate. Reconciled.

’How could he?’Beatrice thought, her hands balling into fists.

Her chest heaved as she watched them, every second dragging her deeper into a breakdown.

They were supposed to be over. Helen wasn’t supposed to win.

Without a word, Beatrice turned and walked away, her vision red with anger.

By the time Beatrice got home, her rage hadn’t subsided.

She slammed the door behind her, kicking off her shoes and storming up the stairs to her room.

She didn’t even bother turning on the lights; the dark felt fitting.

Her chest tightened, her stomach twisting painfully as the scene replayed in her mind.

She couldn’t stop seeing them together—Helen’s arms around Henry, his soft smile as he held her close.

The pain in her belly sharpened suddenly, and Beatrice doubled over, clutching her midsection.

"Ouuuw!"

She stumbled to her bed, gasping for breath as the pain worsened.

It felt like her insides were twisting into knots, each wave sharper than the last.

By the time she could muster the strength to move, she was drenched in sweat, her hands trembling.

>___<

The clinic was quiet, sterile, and cold.

Beatrice was in the examination room, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.

The doctor walked in.

"Miss Beatrice," she began, sitting down across from her. "We’ve run the tests, and I have some news."

Beatrice’s heart pounded. "What is it?"

The doctor hesitated, as though searching for the right words. "You’re pregnant."

The room seemed to tilt.

Beatrice blinked, her ears started ringing. "What?"

"You’re about six weeks along," the doctor said gently. "I know this might be unexpected, but—"

"It’s Steven’s," Beatrice blurted out, more to herself than to the doctor.

Her brain started racing, as panic flooded her veins.

Steven. Her ex. The one person she had sworn to leave in the past.

"Beatrice, I can recommend a counselor if you’re feeling overwhelmed," the doctor said calmly and professionally.

Beatrice shook her head, standing abruptly. "I need to go."

The doctor called after her, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

By the time she got home, Beatrice’s panic had turned into something else: calculating goal.

She sat on her bed, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

Her mind went by with possibilities, with plans.

The baby wasn’t Henry’s—she knew that. But Helen and Henry didn’t know that.

And they never needed to.

’If Helen thought Henry and I had a future...if she believed I was carrying his child...’

The thought sent a shiver of satisfaction through her. It was the perfect weapon. The ultimate way to destroy them.

The next day, Beatrice didn’t avoid Helen and Henry.

Instead, she sought them out, finding them sitting together outside on one of the campus lawns.

She approached slowly, her heart started pounding.

"Henry," she mumbled softly.

Both of them looked up, and Helen’s expression immediately hardened.

"What do you want?" Helen snapped.

Beatrice ignored her, focusing on Henry. "Can we talk? Alone?"

"No," Helen said firmly, crossing her arms.

"It’s okay," Henry said, standing.

He looked hesitant, glancing at Helen before turning to Beatrice. "What’s going on?"

"Are you coming to my birthday party?" Beatrice muttered.

"Beatrice, we’re not going to com-"

"Yes. We will," Henry interrupted Helen.

Beatrice looked at Helen, a small smirk formed on her lips. "I’ll see you there then.

The party was in full swing, the thudding bass shaking the walls of the grand house Beatrice had rented for the occasion.

Full of alcohol and smoke as the crowd danced, drank, and mingled.

Henry arrived alone, just as she’d expected.

Helen had refused to come, and Beatrice knew it was only a matter of time before her plan would bear fruit.

As Henry stepped into the room, looking hesitant and uncomfortable in his casual button-up shirt, Beatrice approached him.

"Henry! You came."

He offered a small, awkward smile. "Yeah, I thought we could talk like you asked."

"Of course." She gestured toward a quieter corner of the room. "Let’s step outside."

They moved to the balcony, Beatrice leaned against the railing, watching Henry closely as he stood a few feet away, arms crossed.

"So," he started cautiously. "What’s this about?"

Beatrice hesitated for a moment, as if gathering her courage. Then she took a deep breath and spoke. "I’m pregnant."

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Henry’s eyes widened, his face drained of color. "What?"

"It’s yours, Henry," Beatrice said quickly, trembling just enough to sound genuine.

"I didn’t know how to tell you, but... I can’t keep this to myself anymore."

Henry stared at her, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the right words.

"Are you... Are you sure?"

"Of course I’m sure!" Beatrice raised her voice. "I know this is a lot, but I thought you deserved to know. I thought you cared about me."

Before Henry could respond, the door to the balcony burst open.

"Beatrice!" freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

The deep, commanding voice belonged to her uncle Victor, who strode onto the balcony with the kind of authority that made people step aside.

He scanned the scene, narrowing as they landed on Beatrice.

"What are you doing, Victor?" Beatrice snapped.

Victor’s face twisted in anger. "What am I doing? What are you doing? How dare you get pregnant!!! You’re just like your mother."

Beatrice stiffened, her hands balling into fists. "Don’t you dare compare me to her!"

"Get out!" Beatrice screamed.

Victor took a step closer, looming over her. "You’re pathetic. No wonder Helen is better. At least she has some dignity."

That was the breaking point.

Beatrice’s vision went red, and before she knew what she was doing, she shoved Victor with all her strength.

Victor stumbled back, his foot caught on the edge of a rug.

He lost his balance and fell, his head striking the corner of a cupboard with a crack.

Blood began to pool beneath him as he lay on the floor.

Beatrice froze, her chest stopped as the reality of what she’d done sank in.

"Oh my God," she whispered, backing away. "Oh my God, oh my God..."

Henry rushed to Victor’s side, kneeling down and pressing his hands against the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.

"Beatrice, call an ambulance!"

"No!" Beatrice cried, panicking. "I can’t... I can’t go to jail, Henry! I’m pregnant with your child!"

Henry looked up at her, full of shock and frustration. "Beatrice, this is serious! He could die!"

Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head, her whole body trembling.

"We have to go. We have to leave, Henry. Please, you have to help me."

Henry hesitated, torn between his instinct to help Victor and his concern for Beatrice.

Finally, he stood and grabbed her arm. "Fine. Let’s go."

They fled the house together, disappearing into the night.

Helen was at home when the phone call came.

The voice on the other end was disguised, low and raspy. "Henry’s in trouble. At the party. You need to get there now."

The line went dead before she could ask any questions.

Her heart pounding, Helen grabbed her coat and rushed out the door.

When she arrived at the house, it was eerily quiet.

She stepped inside, calling out Henry’s name. There was no response.

As she moved through the house, she found the trail of blood leading up the stairs.

Her stomach churned, dread gripping her as she followed it.

On the second floor, she found Victor slumped against the cupboard, his head bleeding profusely.

His breathing was shallow, his skin pale.

"Victor!" Helen cried, rushing to his side. She pulled out her phone and dialed 911, her hands shaking as she explained the situation.

The paramedics arrived quickly, along with the police.

As they worked to stabilize Victor, the officers turned to Helen.

"What happened here?" one of them asked.

"I don’t know...I just found him like this."

But as the officer’s eyes narrowed, suspicion went into his expression, Helen realised how damning the scene looked.

"You need to come with us," the officer said.

"What? No! I didn’t do this!" Helen protested, but her words fell on deaf ears.

As she was handcuffed and led away, she couldn’t help but think of Beatrice.

She was behind this. Helen was certain of it.

It took a few days for Beatrice to brainwash Henry, to make him steal everything from Helen, who was now in trial for murder of Beatrice’s uncle.

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