Chapter 285
Chapter 285
Stella’s POV
The bass from the fashion show still vibrated in my ears as Sam and I pushed through the crowd toward the exit. My feet were killing me, and my lower back ached from sitting upright for hours. Fashion Week used to be my highlight of the year. Now it felt like an endurance test.
"That Valentino collection was absolutely criminal," Sam declared, adjusting her oversized sunglasses despite the cloudy day. "Did you see that green gown? The beadwork alone probably took six weeks."
I nodded absently, my mind already somewhere else. We'd just witnessed two of the most anticipated luxury brand shows of the season, and all I could think about was taking off my shoes and lying down.
Fuck, I'm really becoming a mom. When did sitting through a fashion show become harder than closing a million-dollar deal? My priorities are so screwed up now.
"Earth to Stella," Sam waved her hand in front of my face. "I asked if you still want to visit Lisa and Robert today?"
"Sorry, yes," I replied, placing a protective hand over my growing belly. "Lisa texted earlier saying she's dying to see us."
Sam flagged down a taxi with practiced efficiency. "I can't wait to see her face when she realizes how big you've gotten since Christmas."
"I haven't gotten that big," I protested, though the stretchy panel in my designer maternity pants called me a liar. My once-perfect body now belonged to a tiny parasite who seemed intent on rearranging my organs daily.
As our taxi navigated through Manhattan's gridlocked streets, I checked my phone. Three missed calls from Adam and a simple text: "How are you feeling?" His concern had been constant since learning about the pregnancy, sometimes verging on stalker-level obsession.
I quickly typed back: "Fine. With Sam. Visiting Lisa and Robert now. Don't worry."
His response came immediately: "Call me when you're done."
Controlling bastard, I thought fondly. Despite myself, his overprotectiveness made me feel cherished in a way I'd never experienced before.
---
The private elevator shot up to the penthouse level of Lisa and Robert's building. No standing around with commoners in this place—money buys you the privilege of avoiding small talk with neighbors.
Lisa was waiting when the doors opened, wearing an oversized university hoodie and leggings that probably cost more than a normal person's entire outfit. What caught my eye immediately was her complexion—her normally porcelain skin had transformed into something resembling an amateur spray tan gone wrong.
"Stella! Sam!" She rushed forward, then stopped abruptly, her eyes bulging at the sight of my belly. "Holy shit, look at you!"
Her excitement morphed instantly into tears as she threw herself against me with the dramatic force of a daytime soap actress.
"Lisa? What's wrong?" I patted her back awkwardly, shooting Sam a 'what the fuck' glance over Lisa's shoulder.
Jesus Christ, is she having a breakdown?
"Everything is terrible!" she wailed, her voice muffled against my shoulder. "Graduate school is fucking torture! My dissertation advisor is Satan incarnate with tenure! He exiled me to some godforsaken rural hellhole for 'field research' where there was no Wi-Fi and I had to interview ancient farmers who kept pinching my cheeks and calling me 'city girl'!"
Robert appeared from the kitchen, looking unfazed by his fiancée's emotional meltdown. He set down a tray of tea with the resigned air of a man who'd witnessed this scene many times before.
"Three weeks in rural New England," he explained with a slight shrug. "I'm pretty sure she thinks she survived the apocalypse."
Lisa blew her nose with an unladylike honk. "Look at my skin! I'm ruined! And this bastard advisor expects me to publish in an SCI journal by May! Do you have any idea how impossible that is?"
"What's SCI?" Sam whispered to me.
I shrugged. "Beats me. Some academic bullshit."
"It's the Science Citation Index!" Lisa shrieked, her hearing apparently enhanced by academic distress. "Only the most prestigious journals make the list! And they're divided into four fucking tiers, and my advisor is insisting I aim for tier one!"
She collapsed onto the sofa, one arm draped dramatically across her forehead. "Academic research should be about knowledge and discovery! Why does everything have to be ranked and evaluated like we're all just racing lab rats? It's soul-crushing!"
I watched Robert sit beside her, patiently offering tissues and gentle back rubs. The look on his face was so tender it almost made me uncomfortable—like watching someone's most private moments. He genuinely adored this dramatic creature.
What must it be like to be loved so completely, even at your most unhinged?
"Is writing a paper really that difficult?" I asked, trying to sound sympathetic. "I published a couple in top journals during my junior year."
Fuck. Me and my big mouth.
Lisa's face contorted into fresh anguish. "Of course you did! Because you're perfect fucking Stella who graduated early and probably shits excellence! Some of us are mere mortals struggling through this academic hellscape!"
"Well done, genius," Sam muttered, jabbing me in the ribs with her elbow.
"Lisa, honey," Sam intervened with the diplomatic grace I clearly lacked, "your research sounds fascinating. But didn't you say your advisor refuses to give you any time off? That seems pretty harsh."
"He's an absolute monster," Lisa confirmed, hiccupping between sobs. "Says my entire academic future hangs on this stupid paper."
Sam's eyes suddenly lit up with mischievous inspiration. "You know what excuse even the most heartless professor has to accept? Marriage. Just get married already! Wedding leave is practically mandatory."
Lisa's sobbing stopped so abruptly it was comical. She blinked rapidly, processing this loophole in her academic prison sentence. Slowly, she turned toward Robert, her eyes widening with the look of someone who'd just discovered fire.
Robert chuckled, reaching out to tenderly tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "If you think a wedding would solve your problems, imagine what pregnancy would do. Maternal leave could buy you a whole ten months away from your academic tormentor."
Lisa's face drained of color faster than a vampire victim's. "Pregnant?" she squeaked, hands flying to shield her flat stomach as if words alone could impregnate her. "No fucking way! Not yet! I've seen what it's done to Stella!"
She bolted toward the kitchen like someone fleeing a crime scene, muttering frantically about needing stronger tea.
Robert leaned back, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "Works every time when she's spiraling. Just mention babies and suddenly academic pressure seems like the preferable option."
---
Two hours later, Lisa had somehow recovered from her academic existential crisis and was eagerly showing Sam wedding venues on her tablet, as if marriage was suddenly back on the agenda now that the baby topic had been safely buried.
"You're absolutely sure you're okay to travel?" she asked me for the third time, eyeing my belly like it might explode at any moment.
"I'm pregnant, not made of fucking glass," I reminded her, though secretly I appreciated the concern. "We're just going to Lancaster Manor, not climbing Everest. The baby will survive the journey."
"I've arranged for your baby furniture to be delivered next week," Sam announced, scrolling through her phone. "The crib, changing table, and that absurdly expensive rocking chair Adam insisted on buying because he read somewhere it's the best for infant brain development."
Jesus Christ, less than four months until there's an actual human being depending on me for survival. What the hell was I thinking?
"I'm coming with you," Lisa suddenly declared with the impulsive confidence of someone who never thinks things through. "I'll tell my advisor I need emergency family leave to help with a pregnant relative. He can't possibly deny that without looking like a complete asshole!"
Robert raised an eyebrow, the look of a man who has learned to roll with his fiancée's spontaneous decisions. "And what exactly do you know about caring for pregnant women?"
"Absolutely nothing," Lisa admitted with cheerful honesty. "But Stella counts as family now, and that's all that matters. Besides, you know how persuasive I can be when I want something."
The way she batted her eyelashes at him made me want to gag and laugh simultaneously.
Robert sighed, the resigned sound of a man deeply in love with a beautiful chaos demon. "I'll drive you all to the Lancaster estate."
When we pulled up to Lancaster Manor, a sleek black helicopter sat on the lawn like an oversized toy, its blades already spinning.