[Jay's POV]
The fifth month was supposed to be the "Golden Era" of my pregnancy, but the atmosphere in the Watson mansion shifted from serene to suffocating the moment the front doors opened to admit a guest we didn't invite.
"It's only for forty-eight hours, Jay," Keifer muttered, his hand gripping my shoulder with protective tension as we stood in the foyer. "Her parents are handle-holders for the Dubai merger. Pappa Keizer felt obligated to host her while they're away. But I've increased the internal security. She won't be allowed within two meters of you without a guard present."
I looked down at my stomach. Under my silk maternity dress, the "Powerhouse" was no longer a secret. I was a full, rounded Mango, and the Glow was radiating off me in waves.
The Arrival
Bridget walked in, her heels clicking like a countdown on the marble floor. She looked impeccable—sharp, cold, and calculated. But the second her eyes landed on me—specifically on the prominent curve of my belly—her "Corporate Queen" mask fractured for a split second.
I saw it. A flash of pure, green-eyed venom.
"Jay," she said, her voice like ice water. "You look... different. I see the 'legacy' is taking up quite a bit of space."
"It's a 5th-month status update, Bridget," I replied, keeping my voice steady. "The system is thriving."
Keifer didn't even give her a polite greeting. He stepped in front of me, his shadow completely eclipsing her. "The guest suite is in the East Wing. You'll stay there. My wife's wing is off-limits. Do not test the perimeter."
The Dinner Confrontation
Dinner that night was a psychological battlefield. Mamma Serina had prepared a nutrient-rich feast, and the boys were all present, acting like a human shield around me.
Bridget sat across from us, her eyes constantly darting to where Keifer's hand was resting—as it always did—on my bump. Every time the baby kicked and I let out a soft "oh," Keifer would lean in, whispering something private and sweet into my ear, ignoring Bridget entirely.
"So, Keifer," Bridget started, her voice tight. "I assume you've seen the reports on the Singapore acquisition? Or has the... domestic distraction... slowed your processing speed?"
Keifer didn't even look up from his plate. He was busy peeling a grape for me. "My processing speed is at 1,000%, Bridget. I've already finalized the acquisition. I did it this morning while Jay was napping. Anything else?"
Bridget's grip on her wine glass tightened until her knuckles were white. She looked at my stomach again, her eyes filled with a desperate, bitter jealousy. To her, my bump wasn't a baby—it was the final lock on the door she had been trying to open for years.
The Author's POV: The Midnight Stalk
Later that night, the mansion was bathed in moonlight. Bridget couldn't sleep. The silence of the house felt like a mockery. She stood on the balcony of the guest wing, looking toward the master suite.
She imagined them. She imagined Keifer's large hands protecting that "Powerhouse," his cold blue eyes turning warm only for the woman carrying his child.
"Five months," Bridget whispered to the dark. "Five months of him becoming soft. Five months of her winning."
She felt a surge of irrational hatred. She wanted to walk over there, to shatter the "Glow," to remind Keifer that he was a machine of industry, not a "Hubby." But as she took a step toward the hallway, she saw a red laser dot flicker on the floor in front of her.
Keigan was sitting at the end of the hall with his laptop, his face lit by the blue screen. "East Wing ends here, Bridget," he said, his voice flat and dangerous. "Go back to your room. The Empress is sleeping, and the 'Powerhouse' doesn't like intruders."
Jay's POV: The Morning After
I woke up the next morning feeling the weight of the fifth month, but also the weight of Bridget's presence in the house. When I walked down to the breakfast nook, I found her standing there alone, staring at a framed sonogram photo Ci N had given us.
She didn't hear me come in. She was touching the glass of the frame, her face twisted in a look of such profound envy it almost made me feel sorry for her.
"It looks just like him," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling.
"He does," I said softly.
Bridget spun around, her face instantly turning cold again. She looked at my bump, her eyes narrowing. "Enjoy the attention while it lasts, Jay. Babies grow up, and 'Glows' fade. Eventually, Keifer will need a partner who speaks his language, not someone who just provides an heir."
Before I could respond, the door swung open. Keifer walked in, his eyes locking onto Bridget with lethal intent. He didn't say a word. He just walked over, put his arm around my waist, and pulled me flush against his side.
"Day one of your stay is over, Bridget," Keifer said, his voice a low growl. "You have twenty-four hours left. If I find you alone with my wife again, you won't be staying in a guest suite. You'll be staying in a holding cell. Am I clear?"
Bridget flinched, her pride shattering under his gaze. She turned and fled the room.
Keifer turned to me, his hands immediately finding my stomach to soothe the "Powerhouse" (and me). "Did she glitch your system, Wiefy?"
"A little," I admitted, leaning into his heat. "But the software is strong, Hubby."
"100%," he murmured.