Heaven or Hell: Loving My Twisted Billionaire novel Chapter 34

Hannah’s POV

Two pink lines.

I sat on the edge of my tiny bathroom’s tub, staring at the pregnancy test with trembling hands. The morning light filtered through my apartment’s thin curtains, casting a pale glow over the unmistakable result.

I should have known. The slight nausea that greeted me each morning. The unusual fatigue that seemed to settle into my bones by mid–afternoon. The sudden aversion to coffee–my lifeline during busy school days. All signs pointing to a reality I could no longer ignore.

I was pregnant with Finn Sterling’s child.

Taking a deep breath, I glanced around my cramped bathroom with its aging tiles and slightly moldy shower curtain. The contrast between this space and the palatial marble bathroom at Sterling Estate was almost comical. There, the bathtub alone had been larger than my entire bathroom.

Five weeks. That’s how long it had been since I’d left the mansion. According to my arrangement with Victoria Sterling, she was supposed to contact me after one month to confirm my pregnancy. But a week had passed beyond that deadline, and my phone remained silent.

I splashed cold water on my flushed face and stared at my reflection. Dark circles underlined my eyes, but I forced a smile. Life goes on, no matter what.

Twenty minutes later, I was dressed in a simple dress, preparing for work at Sunshine Special Education Center. The children had welcomed me with open arms and innocent smiles that made everything worthwhile.

Today, I would continue piano lessons with Jamie, an autistic boy with remarkable musical sensitivity. The thought of the piano sent my mind drifting to that afternoon in the music room at Sterling Estate–Finn sitting beside me, his expression softening as I played…

I shook my head, banishing the memory. Some pieces I would never play again, especially Chopin’s Nocturne. Some memories were better locked away in the deepest corners of my heart.

On the crowded bus ride to work, a black sedan drove past, sunlight reflecting off its tinted windows. For a heartbeat, I thought it might stop–that a uniformed driver would step out and open the door for me, taking me back to a world I would never belong to. But the car continued on, disappearing around a corner, leaving me on the packed bus with my hand unconsciously resting on my still–flat abdomen.

Peter’s threats still haunted me. After our heated argument when he first came asking for more money, I thought that was the end. But a week later, at three in the morning, my doorbell rang incessantly. There stood Peter, gaunt and jittery, clearly experiencing withdrawal symptoms.

“You dare send someone to threaten me?” he’d practically shrieked, his voice filled with fear and rage. “Who’s that man in the black suit? He’s been following me for three days! Every time I go to see my… friends, he’s just standing there, watching!”

I’d shaken my head in confusion, having no idea what he was talking about. A man in a black suit? Following Peter? I hadn’t sent anyone to do such a thing.

‘Don’t think you can get rid of us just because you’ve climbed up the social ladder!“/Peter had spat out before leaving. You’ll regret this, Hannah, you il seriously regret this!”

After that night, Peter never showed up again. I guessed he might have been sent to rehab, or perhaps left New York altogether. Either way, I was relieved not to worry about midnight doorbell rings anymore. Despite all this, Peter’s terrified expression that night still lingers in my mind. I hope he really just went to the rehab center, and didn’t get into even worse trouble.

Back in my apartment after work, I pulled out the crumpled advertisement with the phone number–my first contact with the Sterling family. I picked up my

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phone several times, dialed halfway, then canceled. Why hadn’t Victoria contacted me? Had the agreement been canceled? Had they changed Was it Finn’s decision?

Amy had texted me a few times, asking how I was doing, but I never replied. I had been determined to cut all ties with the Sterling family, hoping to restart. my life. Now that decision seemed hasty. Looking through my contacts, Amy’s number remained my only connection to the Sterlings, yet I still could bring myself to call.

That evening, I sat by the window, watching Brooklyn’s nightscape. Distant lights dotted the darkness, but compared to the magnificent Manhattan skyline visible from Sterling Estate, they seemed dim and sparse. I took out my notebook and drew a line down the middle of a page. On the left side, I wrote “Keep the baby,” and on the right, “Terminate pregnancy,” then began listing pros and cons for each option.

On my laptop, I had two tabs open: one showing information about abortion laws in different states, the other displaying a baby goods store. My eyes were drawn to a soft baby carrier with adjustable straps. I couldn’t help imagining a tiny infant with Finn’s stubborn chin and intense eyes nestled against my chest.

I gently touched my stomach, where a new life–both mine and Finn’s–was growing. “Hey, little one,” I whispered, then immediately felt foolish. This child was probably just a cluster of cells now, unaware of my existence, let alone able to understand my words.

That night, I dreamed I was walking through Sterling Estate’s gardens, cradling a baby with Finn’s features. Sunlight warmed us as the child giggled in my arms. Finn stood by a rose–covered arbor, holding his pink cane, his face bearing a smile I’d never seen before–warm and genuine.

I woke with a start, my heart racing. The bedside clock read 3:14 AM. The room was silent and dark, and I felt an ache of loss and longing. The dream had been so beautiful, yet reality was me alone in this small apartment, while Finn… Finn had probably forgotten I existed.

The next morning, I watched the sunrise from my window. Light slowly crawled up Brooklyn’s buildings, gilding everything with golden edges–symbolizing a new beginning.

I caressed my stomach, whispering, “None of this is your fault, little one. I’ll make the best decision for you.”

Taking the advertisement, I dialed the number digit by digit, but as each number appeared on my screen, doubt crept in. I stared at the completed number, then slowly deleted each digit, one by one, until the screen was blank again. I placed the phone on my nightstand and collapsed onto my bed, arm draped over my eyes. I needed more time to think, to be certain.

The sudden, shrill ring of my phone pierced the silence, making me bolt upright. My heart leaped into my throat as I stared at the screen.

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