The Heiress Spoiled by Four Brothers and One Devilish CEO-Chapter 231 She Can’t Know

Tristan Reid knocked on the door. It was Keith Martin who opened it.

He blinked in surprise. "Mr. Reid?"

Tristan didn’t stop. He walked right in. "Which floor?"

Keith quickly replied, "Second floor, left side, second room facing the sun. Boss has probably turned in for the night."

Tristan paused for a second. "Yeah. He’s been tossing and turning waiting for me."

Keith’s lips twitched. That... sounded kinda off?

While he stood there trying to process, Tristan had already gone upstairs. A second later, Keith heard the door close and felt a chill—was this supposed to be one of those late-night guys-only games?

Inside, Tristan undid his coat and settled into the rattan chair like he owned the place.

Karl Freeman wandered to the liquor cabinet, grabbing a butterfly corkscrew and opening a ridiculously expensive bottle of red.

He glanced back. "Want a glass?"

Before Tristan could respond, Karl snorted. "Oh right, forgot. You’re driving."

Tristan crossed one leg over the other, looking relaxed and a bit arrogant. "Worst case, I crash here. What, scared I’ll hit on you?"

Karl downed the wine in his glass, then snapped, "Tristan Reid, you’re such a piece of work. Seriously, you’re the worst."

Tristan smirked. "Pissed now, huh?"

"Absolutely." Karl practically growled.

"Exactly what I was going for," Tristan said, dragging out his words as he fished out a cigarette and flicked his lighter open. "Mind if I smoke? Knew you wouldn’t."

He lit it, the red ember flickering like it was burning through everything bottled up inside him.

Karl gave him a sharp look, then called Keith over for coffee.

He reached for his own cigarette pack on the counter—empty. Annoyed, he walked over and snagged one from Tristan’s pack.

Tristan popped the lighter open again, the flame flaring as Karl leaned in to light his cigarette—just in time for Keith to walk in.

Keith froze, immediately thinking, wait, what did I just walk into?

He shut the door like he’d seen a ghost.

Karl exploded, "Keith! Do you have a death wish? Ever heard of knocking?!"

Keith cleared his throat awkwardly. "Your coffee’s ready."

"Bring it in."

Keith took a deep breath, marched in, set the cup on the counter, and hurried out like his life depended on it.

Karl sat back on the stool, blew away a puff of smoke, then asked, "What’s bothering you?"

Tristan took a long drag before crushing the cigarette out in the ashtray. "Nathaniel Cooper said the love curse in me will activate five months from now. I die, Megan doesn’t. That true?"

Karl let out a silent sigh. "It’s true."

"But you told me before—if one dies, the other dies; if one lives, the other lives."

"For the first eight months, yeah. But after that, it just gets cruel."

Tristan went silent a while. "Don’t tell Megan. I don’t want her worrying."

Karl saw him getting ready to leave and stubbed out his cigarette as well. "I said I’d help cure you."

Tristan gave a soft smile. "Not if it costs you your life. Then I don’t want it."

Karl clenched his fists. "She’s having your kid. She needs a husband. That child needs a dad."

Tristan lowered his eyes, his face blank. After a long pause, he looked up and said, "Just help me keep it from her. I don’t want her last memories of me to be tears."

Without another word, he turned and walked out."Tristan! Don’t you walk away!" Karl Freeman growled, voice low and tight. "You’re just abandoning them?"

"I want to stay—but I can’t! If I die, at least I won’t carry the guilt of dragging them down with me!"

Without another word, he turned and left.

Karl clenched his fists, rage bubbling in his chest. When he heard the engine roar to life outside, he swept everything off the bar with a loud crash.

Driving alone down the wide, icy road, Tristan Reid gripped the wheel like it could save him from drowning. Snow piled up low along the edges, the world outside silent and cold.

This kind of fear—he hadn’t felt it since the last life, watching Megan Shaw die in his arms. That gut-wrenching panic of losing someone he loved... it was back.

In just five months, he’d never see them again—Megan or the baby growing inside her.

The thought alone made it hard to breathe.

But he couldn’t tell her. She was the one who wanted him to take the Heartbind Curse. If she knew what it would do to him... she’d break down.

He wouldn’t let that happen. Instead, he’d be there—through every moment of the next five months. And when it ended, he’d make sure she forgot he ever existed.

When Tristan got back to the hotel room, he slid the keycard in and quietly stepped inside. He shrugged off his coat and headed straight for the shower.

After drying off in a bathrobe, hair still damp, he stepped into the bedroom.

There she was—curled up, fast asleep. He sat on the edge of the bed, eyes locked on her peaceful face.

He slowly lay down, wrapping his arms around her from behind. His voice, barely a whisper: "Megan, I love you."

He kissed her soft, dark hair—one tear slipping into the strands.

She stirred, feeling the warmth of his chest behind her. Turning over, she buried her face against him. "You’re back?" she mumbled.

Tristan hummed softly. "Yeah... I’m home."

He held her tighter, staring at her like she’d vanish if he blinked. Her belly pressed gently against him—rounder than before.

"I’ll love you forever, Megan," he whispered, smoothing his hand down her back.

She smiled sleepily. "I love you too, Tristan."

Neither of them really slept that night.

Morning came, and Megan sat up, squinting at the dark circles under his eyes. "Did I smack you in my sleep or something? Those are way too symmetrical."

Tristan chuckled lowly, tousling her hair. "Probably just from hunger, babe. Been starvin’ over here."

Megan burst out laughing. "Alright, once a week then!"

Tristan held up all five of her fingers. "Five times in five days sounds better."

She smacked his shoulder. "You’re the worst!"

He caught her hand and pressed it to his chest. "Admit it—you’re head over heels. Didn’t you once say you were curious about how I taste?"

Rolling her eyes, she pinched his cheek. "Lemme brush my teeth first."

"No need, I don’t mind." He leaned in like he was about to kiss her.

She blinked quickly, palming his mouth. "Have you brushed?"

"Nope."

"Ugh!" she scoffed. "Figures! You’re just as bad as me! Mm—"

Before she could finish, Tristan cupped the back of her head and kissed her, silencing her teasing.

To her, it was sweet.

To him, it tasted like grief.

After a long while, he let her go, his voice softer now, "We’ve got the checkup today. You’re officially four months along."

Lifting her easily into his arms, he grinned. "Let’s get my precious girl ready to go."

As he carried her, Megan tipped her head to admire his perfect jawline. "I love those lips... but they say pretty lips come with a cold heart. Is it true in your case?"

"What do you think?"

She rested her head against his firm chest. "They say in chaos you find true love, but in peace people forget how to care. But my Tristan? He’ll never be like that. We’re gonna be together forever. And I’m giving you three more little ones."

Tristan held her just a little tighter, a bitter smile flickering at his mouth. "Okay."