Overbearing CEO's Contract Love
Chapter 61: Unfounded Confidence

Chapter 61: Unfounded Confidence

"Mr. Sterling, regarding your previous inquiry about prenatal DNA testing, I’ve consulted with specialists. It’s possible to verify fetal DNA through amniocentesis."

"However, this procedure poses significant risks to both mother and child, particularly in terms of the pain it can cause to the mother, which can be unimaginably severe, potentially even more so than childbirth itself."

Damien paused, the image of Emma standing weakly under the eaves the day before, braving the weather just to buy his favorite durian pastry, flashed in his mind.

He wasn’t usually one to relent, but at that moment, he had only one thought: he didn’t want Emma to endure such pain.

She had been behaving well recently, hadn’t she? Given her consistent demeanor, there was no need for her to lie.

"Put that matter on hold," Damien commanded in a gravelly tone.

After hanging up, Damien stared at his phone for a while before diving back into his work.

When Emma returned home, it was already getting late. Spotting the black Maybach at the villa’s entrance, she knew Damien was back and hurried her steps, only to stumble forward.

"Ahh..."

Expecting to meet the ground face first, she was surprised to find herself caught in a warm embrace.

Looking up, she met Damien’s striking gaze, his pupils constricting, an eyebrow raised as he lifted her like a small animal, his tone sharp, "Emma Hart, where are your bones?"

Emerging from in front of Damien Sterling, Emma Hart adjusted her long dress, suspecting it was the dress’s trailing hem that had nearly caused her to trip.

Observing the man’s unblinking gaze, his pupils radiating anger, Emma could only shrug helplessly.

Why was he so infuriated again?

"It wasn’t intentional," she mumbled.

"You better not dare!" His words implied that if her fall had been deliberate, he would not let it slide easily.

Damien stood aside, his patience thinning. "You go first."

"Huh?"

"Hurry up!" Damien commanded, his tolerance seemingly hanging by a thread.

Emma headed towards the villa, feeling Damien’s presence behind her like a jailer escorting a prisoner to the gallows, sending a chill down her spine.

Before dinner, Emma distanced herself from Damien, settling on the sofa and casually picking up a book. Sudoku puzzles.

She curled up, her focus sharpened on the game.

When did Sudoku become so challenging?

Suddenly, a hand reached over and snatched the book from her grasp.

"Hey!" Emma protested, trying to retrieve her book from Damien, who effortlessly lifted it beyond her reach.

"Why do you always have to grab other people’s things?" Emma tiptoed, reaching futilely for the book.

Damien pondered for a moment, his eyes quickly scanning the array of numbers.

As Emma continued her futile attempts to retrieve the book, Damien casually took a pen and began filling in the blanks.

Handing the book back to Emma, his face unreadable, she received it with a bewildered expression, unsure of what he had hastily scribbled in such a short time.

Emma’s disbelief grew with every puzzle she checked. To her astonishment, every single solution he had filled in was correct!

Emma Hart, deep in thought over the Sudoku puzzles she couldn’t solve, was baffled by how Damien Sterling casually filled them out correctly.

Was his brain like a high-speed computer?

"Did you peek at the answers?" she asked.

"Do you think everyone has the same level of intelligence as you?" he retorted.

Emma cast a sidelong glance at Damien, his confidence bewilderingly unshakable.

Suddenly, Damien leaned in close, prompting Emma to instinctively use the book as a shield.

He frowned slightly, his tone laced with concern, "I’m really worried about our future child’s IQ."

Emma blinked her long lashes, confused. Why was he suddenly bringing up a child? She wasn’t prepared for such a leap in the conversation.

Damien’s lips hovered near Emma’s ear, his voice low and husky, "But don’t worry, my genes should make up for any lack in intelligence."

As he walked away, he left Emma with words that, to her, sounded almost rogue-like.

The weather had been peculiar these past few days: radiant sunshine during the day, turning to rain at night, and then clear skies the next morning.

Such unpredictable weather left Emma without the energy to protest in Damien’s presence.

He claimed to stay by her side each night, supposedly to comfort her in her fear of thunder, leaving Emma to endure the humiliation in silence.

It had been days since Emma visited her mother and grandmother.

She always brought gifts, knowing well that her grandmother would hide them away.

Still, not bringing anything might give her grandmother an excuse not to let her off easily.

In the alley, Emma Hart was accustomed to her grandmother’s duplicity, showing one face in public and another in private.

She noticed her mother still toiling away, her weary back bent over the chilling water.

Her grandmother, noticing Emma’s sympathetic gaze towards her mother, couldn’t help but chide her.

"Emma, if you feel sorry for your mother, hire a maid for her. And, I’ve told you before, our living conditions here are dreadful. Where is all Mr. Sterling’s money going? Don’t be so stingy."

Money? Even if Emma had access to funds, she wouldn’t use them.

After all, using that money would equate to her selling herself, no different from those she disdained.

Inside the house, Emma insisted on taking over the chores. "Mom, let me do the washing."

"Emma, you’re pregnant. You must avoid cold water," her grandmother interjected, hurriedly stepping in, fearful of any mishaps.

The child in Emma’s womb was their leverage for extracting money from Damien Sterling.

"Stop it, Emma. Let’s not wash anything. Come sit and chat with your mother. Is that bag heavy? Let me put it inside for you. Stay for lunch," her grandmother said, feigning concern while swiftly taking the bag into the house.

Sitting in the courtyard, Emma’s mother went inside to fetch water for her, only to find her grandmother rummaging through Emma’s bag.

"What are you doing, Mom?" Emma’s mother asked.

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