Vengeance in His Bed novel Chapter 230

Chapter 230: Humbly on His Knees

When they finally arrived back at the estate, Jannah didn’t wait for Dorrent to open her door. She bolted out of the car, her eyes fixed on the floor, and rushed straight up the staircase to her room. Slipping inside, she turned the key in the lock with a sharp, decisive click.

She quickly changed out of her silk dress into a soft, flowing cotton nightgown, kicked off her shoes, and crawled into the middle of the bed. Reaching over, she snapped off the bedside lamp, plunging the space into absolute darkness.

Lying there in the dark, her heart hammered against her ribs. She was terrified—after having laid her deepest, most vulnerable feelings bare in the car. Yet, beneath the surging panic, a strange, profound lightness bloomed in her chest. For nine long years, she had carried an unbearable boulder of hatred, guilt, and buried affection. Dropping that heavy mask, even for a moment, felt as if a massive burden had finally been lifted from her soul.

A gentle knock echoed against the door.

"Jannah?" Dorrent’s voice called softly through the wood, his baritone thick with unspoken warmth. "Open the door, baby. I just want to talk to you."

Jannah held her breath, pulling the duvet tighter around her shoulders, and remained completely silent.

"I know you’re awake," Dorrent added, his knuckles tapping once more. "Just let me in for a few minutes."

She bit her lower lip, pressing her face into the pillow, refusing to make a single sound. After a long minute of heavy silence, she heard a faint, amused sigh, followed by the sound of his retreating footsteps.

Jannah let out a slow, trembling breath, her shoulders sagging in immense relief as she finally allowed sleep to pull her under.

When morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, Jannah woke up with a knot in her stomach. She showered quickly and pulled on a fresh pair of clothes, but when it came time to step out of the room for breakfast, her feet froze near the door.

Terror seized her. How was she supposed to face Dorrent this morning? After her hysterical, tearful breakdown in the car, she was convinced he would smirk at her, mock her, and hold her confession over her head like a trophy.

Deciding it was far safer to hide, Jannah retreated back to the bed, pulled up the covers, and opened an ebook on her phone, forcing her eyes to read the glowing lines of text to distract her racing mind.

Suddenly, the door handle turned. The latch clicked, and the door swung open.

Jannah gasped, her head snapping up. Dorrent stepped smoothly into the room, holding a tray laden with fresh food. He was dressed in a bathrobe, tied loosely at his waist, his damp dark hair clinging to his forehead as if he had just stepped out of a shower. Droplets of water still glinted against his broad, exposed chest.

"Good morning, baby," Dorrent greeted softly, his eyes locking onto her with an unbothered, intoxicating brightness.

Jannah immediately dropped her eyes back to her phone screen, forcing her jaw to set as she pretended to be engrossed in her reading, completely ignoring his presence.

Dorrent let out a low, fond chuckle. He walked over to the nightstand, setting the tray down. Before Jannah could process his movement, he leaned down, his warm hand gently cupping the back of her neck as his lips pressed firmly against hers in a sweet, lingering kiss.

Heat surged into Jannah’s cheeks, a deep crimson blush spreading rapidly across her skin. She pulled her face back, glaring at him with a mix of embarrassment and defensive anger. "Leave me alone! Why didn’t you knock?!"

"I don’t need to knock in my own house," Dorrent purred, a smirk playing on his lips.

Jannah huffed, her eyes instinctively flicking down to the tray beside her bed—and her breath hitched in her throat.

Arranged neatly on the fine porcelain were nutrient-rich dishes specifically tailored for early pregnancy: a steaming bowl of fortified wild berry oatmeal drizzled with honey, a side of poached eggs served over fresh avocado and spinach, a glass of cold, calcium-fortified almond milk, and a plate of sliced oranges and pomegranates rich in folate.

Jannah’s jaw dropped slightly as she stared at the feast. "You’re... you’re really not serious right now."

Dorrent sat down on the edge of her mattress, his massive frame depressing the soft sheets as he looked down at her with unyielding certainty. "You don’t need to hide anything anymore, Jannah. I am one hundred percent sure you are carrying my child."

Jannah went completely silent, her gaze falling to her lap as a thick, emotional lump formed in her throat.

"You don’t have to be afraid," Dorrent murmured, his hand reaching out to cover her small fingers. "I am right here for both of you."

Jannah swallowed hard, trying desperately to piece her shattered pride back together. "Last night... I was just overwhelmed," she stammered, her voice shaking as she tried to pull her hand away. "I was exhausted, emotional, and... and I said things that I’m not sure I actually meant—"

"Don’t stress yourself out," Dorrent interrupted gently, his thumb rubbing smooth circles against her knuckles. "And don’t try to take back what you said. What has already been spoken cannot be unsaid, little physician."

He reached over, taking her phone out of her hand and placing it face down on the nightstand.

"Now, put this away," Dorrent instructed softly, picking up the bowl of warm oatmeal and a spoon. "I want to feed you."

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