But the moment she applied force, the man grabbed her hands.
Victoria glared a deathly glare at Charlie.
"Just give it a rest! Don't even dream of taking the child from me. I'll die before I let you get your way."
Charlie sneered.
"Then we'll just have to wait and see whose victory it is."
He turned around after that.
Victoria closed her eyes and managed to suppress her rage.
At least she'd managed to shoo him off... not. She opened her eyes and found him walking towards the bedroom.
Victoria's face changed instantly.
"What are you doing, Charlie Peck?"
"It's getting late, right? I'm going to rest, of course."
"This is my house. If you want to rest, go home."
"Ha!"
The man stood in the doorway to the bedroom, looking down at the flushing woman.
He reached out and tilted her chin up.
Victoria jerked her head away, but he didn't get mad. He simply leered.
"Before this child is born, I'll be everywhere you go. I told you. Don't even dream of escaping. I'm a man of my word."
Victoria had no words.
And so Charlie ended up staying at Victoria's rented apartment.
Victoria was fuming, but there was nothing she could do.
It was too late to call the police.
He was the child's father, and if things got heated, it would become even messier.
She'd never thought that this usually calm, collected person could descend to such a level.
Victoria looked at the man lying on her bed and felt the beginnings of an ulcer.
The apartment wasn't small, but because she was living here on her own, she'd rented the sort of large, seventy square meter apartment with a wall separating the middle, a bedroom on the inside, and an open kitchen and living room on the outside.
Now that this man had taken up her bed, she couldn't squeeze in there, so her only option was the sofa.
Victoria hugged her belly, steaming.
She cursed him quietly. Men who bullied pregnant women would die badly.
Still, the moment she muttered the curse, she jolted and took it back.
Spirits above, that was just some nonsense because she was mad, she didn't mean it, no sir.
Forget death. Let's keep the curse at nightmares and diarrhea.
Yeah, a slap on the wrist.
Ever since getting pregnant, Victoria had started somewhat believing in those sorts of superstitions.
After mumbling incantations to herself, she spread out some blankets on the sofa and got ready to sleep.
The sofa wasn't small, and the production quality was high. It was soft and bouncy, so it wasn't uncomfortable to lie on.
But because Victoria was getting big, she wasn't sleeping well to begin with, and it was worse lying on the sofa. She tossed and turned for several hours without managing to fall asleep.
Only until it was the small hours of the morning and she was utterly exhausted did she finally drift off to sleep.
Deep in the night.
After who knows how long, the bedroom door was suddenly pushed open from the inside.
A tall figure walked out and looked calmly down at the woman on the sofa.
Her body was tilted sideways. Because she was sleeping poorly, her delicate features were creased with tiredness. Her brow was slightly furrowed, and there were faint black bags under her eyes.
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