Forgotten Love: Mr. President, Mrs. Fordham Has Rejected You!-Chapter 185: He Still Couldn’t Harden His Heart
Stella Grant’s heart gave a sudden jolt.
Not now, she’s in early pregnancy—he might hurt the baby.
He leaned down, wanting to kiss her again, but she quickly covered his mouth with her hand.
"Aiden Fordham, I... it’s not convenient."
Aiden froze, the heat in his eyes not yet fading, tinged with confusion.
He pulled away her little hand, kissing it again and again.
"Your period’s not over yet?"
He asked.
"Mm, it’s not possible right now." She followed his lead with her reply.
The fire in Aiden’s chest was instantly doused with a bucket of cold water, leaving him chilled to the core.
He took a deep breath, working hard to suppress his restless desire.
"I’ll have the kitchen make you some brown sugar water, you get some rest first..."
His voice was hoarse and rough. He leaned down to kiss her face several times before finally getting up to leave.
The door closed softly.
Stella touched her feverish forehead, but a warm and sweet feeling welled up inside her heart.
Should she... tell him about the baby ahead of time?
Aiden walked downstairs; his phone rang.
It was Keegan Lindsey calling.
He picked up, saying simply in a deep voice,
"I’ll be there now."
With that, he hung up, grabbed the jacket from the entry, and strode out of The Sovereign Estate.
Deep in the night, Nocturne club was filled with an atmosphere of indulgence and luxury.
Corinne Kensington sat in a lavish private room, swirling an expensive glass of red wine in her hand. Outside the door, six black-suited bodyguards stood tall and imposing, their faces blank and emotionless.
She thoroughly enjoyed this sort of feeling.
No matter where she was, she felt like a queen standing above everyone else.
The title of First Lady of the Whitman Family—that was her greatest source of confidence.
"Bang—"
The door to the room was suddenly slammed open by a powerful force.
A tall, commanding figure stood in the doorway, backlit, emanating an icy, suffocating pressure through the room.
Corinne startled, but when she saw who it was, joy she could not hide welled up from the depths of her eyes.
"Aiden!"
She immediately stood, her heels clicking hurriedly as she crossed to him and stopped just in front of him.
Her gaze was tinged with tipsy haze, her red lips parted, longing to throw herself into his arms—yet her outstretched hand froze in mid-air, not daring to go any closer.
Aiden’s gaze was as cold as ice, fixed straight on her.
"Those kidnappers—did you send them?"
His voice wasn’t loud, but every word was like a poisoned blade stabbing into Corinne, making her entire body tremble.
She instinctively took half a step back, but quickly tried to steady herself and denied it.
"What kidnappers? I don’t know what you’re talking about."
Aiden’s patience was gone. Fury was burning in his chest.
He took a step forward, pressing in on her; the dominant force of his presence made it hard for her to breathe.
"Corinne Kensington, I warned you—don’t ever hurt her again!"
"How dare you cross my line again and again?"
Every word was ice cold, the distance and indifference in his eyes the thing she most feared to see.
Corinne bit down hard, her anger barely contained.
She froze for a few seconds, her eyes quickly growing red, tears gleaming in her beautiful eyes, playing the helpless and pitiful victim.
"Aiden, I really don’t know..."
"I don’t understand why... you’re so hostile to me. Am I truly so unforgivable to you?"
"You used to never be this harsh to me."
Tears slipped down her delicate cheeks, her whole being shattering apart.
"Even if you no longer care about what happened four years ago, still, I’m really not... your enemy."
The words "four years ago" were like a spell, slamming into Aiden’s heart and blocking his breath.
That was a fact he could never change.
She had once saved his life.
If that hadn’t happened, he would have personally torn her to pieces tonight.
Aiden inhaled deeply, pushing down the tumult of emotion inside.
"In any case, stay away from her from now on."
"Step out of line again and I’ll have you locked up."
The grief on Corinne’s face froze in place.
She suddenly reached out, hugging him, pressing her head against his broad chest.
"Aiden, since you promised Mother you’d come to the Whitmans’ next month for my recognition banquet—"
"You do still care about me, right? The Fordham Family and the Whitman Family are the perfect match."
Her voice turned soft and urgent.
"Since fate blessed me with this identity, doesn’t that mean it’s giving us a second chance? Can you love me again?"
Aiden wrenched her hands off him, eyes utterly unmoved—his gaze empty and cold as death.
"There is no way for us."
He spoke each word, perfectly clear.
"Remember—even once more, I won’t show mercy."
With that, he turned away, striding out without a hint of hesitation.
Corinne watched his departing figure, raising a hand to gently wipe away the tear tracks from her face.
Yet, the corner of her lips curled into a triumphant smirk.
Aiden, in the end you still can’t truly hate me.
Some things are destined. For the rest of this life, you and I will be tangled together.
The Whitman Family is the strongest shield I have.
At the same moment, in a dark, damp underground cell, the air was thick with the stench of blood.
A man hung from an iron rack by chains, his body covered in ghastly lash marks—there wasn’t an inch of unbroken skin left.
"Smack!"
The saltwater-soaked whip fell across him again, making him convulse in agony, lacking even the strength to scream.
Hugh Whitman stood in the shadows, his handsome face expressionless, yet his eyes seethed with a boundless, murderous hatred.
Anyone who dared harm his woman—
He would make sure this man suffered a fate worse than death.
"Don’t let him die," he said coldly. "He hasn’t paid for all his crimes yet."
"Yes, Young Master." The underling replied respectfully, raised the whip, and struck again—hard.
...
The Sovereign Estate.
When Aiden returned to the bedroom, Stella Grant was already asleep.
He walked into the bathroom, letting the hot water wash away all his aggression.
After his shower, he quietly slipped into bed.
Being able to openly lie beside her, to hold her in his arms as he fell asleep—this feeling was pure bliss.
He turned on his side and pulled her gently into his arms, clasping her hand lightly.
On her palm, that vicious scar was still clear as day.
His heart felt like a needle stabbed deep—dull, throbbing pain.
Her right hand had been cut by a tube while trying to get the reagent back. He looked at her other palm, which also bore a faint scar.
That was from when she saved him, cutting herself to feed him blood.
Everything she’d done for him was etched deeply in his heart.
The person in his arms slept soundly, her breaths steady, like a meek and gentle kitten.
Suddenly, she moved a little, mumbling softly in her sleep.
"Baby..."
Aiden’s whole body stiffened. Did she want to have his child too?
A few seconds later, he tightened his arms, holding her even closer.
The next morning, Aiden got up and made breakfast for Stella, even feeding her himself.
Happiness bubbled up inside like milk sweetened with sugar.
After breakfast, just before leaving the house, Aiden pinned her against the door and stole a long, sweet kiss.
Once in the office, Stella immediately switched into battle mode, opened her laptop, and her fingers flew across the keyboard, lines of code scrolling at lightning speed.
She worked fast and meticulously.
In the CEO’s office, Aiden watched that little focused figure through his screen, his lips curving up, a warm satisfaction filling his chest.
He picked up his phone, tapping a few times to open a pink app.
After entering a few dates, a clear calendar appeared on the screen.
His gaze landed exactly on a date, circled and marked in red.
Ovulation day.
His eyes instantly burned with hot anticipation.
"Knock knock knock."
Keegan Lindsey entered, catching sight of his boss looking positively glowing—his whole face all but spelling out "good news is coming."
"President Fordham."
"Handle a few things." Aiden pocketed his phone, his tone brisk. "Send the latest collections of clothes and jewelry to The Sovereign Estate—one set from every brand."
He paused, then added, "And arrange for a top nutritionist to help my wife with her health."
Keegan’s eyes lit up. Holding back his excitement, he asked, "Ma’am is moving back to The Sovereign Estate?"
Aiden nodded.
He calculated the days—just a few more and it would be time.
He could finally be with her rightfully and openly.
Thinking of this, his spirits soared, anticipation shining unhidden in his eyes.
Truly, proximity is the key to success.
"By the way," something came to mind, "I heard an auction house is putting a crown up for auction today?"
Keegan hurriedly checked on his tablet, quickly finding the information. "That’s right, it’s a priceless treasure once owned by the F-Country royal family."
Aiden tapped his fingertips on the desk, his voice quiet but absolutely commanding.
"Secure it."
"And deliver it straight to the Whitman Family’s recognition banquet."
He wanted to use that one-of-a-kind crown to personally welcome back his little princess.
"Yes, President Fordham." Keegan quickly nodded and jotted it down on his tablet.
At noon, Aiden directly dragged Stella Grant, who was still typing away at her computer, out with him.
"Where are we going?" Stella asked, a little dazed as he bundled her into the car.
"Lunch."
The car twisted through several turns, finally stopping in front of a club that looked extremely private.
There was no sign, only an ancient, imposing wooden door radiating an exclusive, unapproachable aura.
As soon as they entered, the gentle notes of a guqin drifted in.
The melody was crisp and pure—like a mountain spring, tinkling and refreshing the soul.
Led by the sound, Stella followed through a moon gate, and the scene suddenly opened up before her.
In a courtyard lush with green bamboo, a graceful lady in a pale moon-colored cheongsam sat serenely behind a guqin.
Her hair was elegantly pinned up with a jade hairpin, pearl earrings gracing her ears. Her demeanor was dignified and poised.
Her fingers danced skillfully over the strings, every note falling perfectly into place, making Stella’s heart rise and fall with the melody.
As the song ended, the lingering notes wafted through the air.
Several society ladies seated nearby instantly applauded.
"That was amazing!"
"Mrs. Whitman, it’s no wonder you come from such an illustrious family—your mastery of the guqin is untouchable."
Selene Sloan, addressed as "Mrs. Whitman," smiled gracefully, about to respond modestly, when suddenly her gaze landed on a girl standing in the distance—Stella Grant.
The girl stood quietly, features exquisitely beautiful—those clear eyes, the high-bridged nose, the shape of her lips...
Looked seven or eight tenths like the reflection in her own mirror.
Selene’s eyes trembled violently. Her heart seemed gripped by an invisible hand, thumping wildly.
She didn’t know what she was doing; subconsciously, a trembling name slipped from her throat.
"Sierra..."
