My Pregnancy Contract With The Billionaire

Cristine pulled her coat tightly around her as she stepped out of the subway station, the chill of the evening air biting at her cheeks. The bustling streets of Crescent City surrounded her, filled with the sounds of laughter, honking cars, and the faint aroma of food from nearby restaurants. With a sigh, she adjusted the strap of her bag and made her way to her first stop of the evening: delivering food for a local delivery service. It was just another long day for Cristine, a continuous cycle of work to keep her small apartment running and provide for her grandmother, who had been diagnosed with dementia. Each job felt like a balancing act—juggling multiple roles just to make ends meet. She had taken on everything from handing out brochures to delivering food to doing sideline work at a local salon. The exhaustion weighed on her, but the thought of her grandmother waiting for her at home propelled her forward. As she arrived at the restaurant, she was greeted by the familiar bustle of kitchen staff preparing orders and the clattering of dishes. Cristine checked her phone for the delivery address, then stepped behind the counter to grab the steaming bag of food. The restaurant manager, a kind older man named Tony, caught her eye. "Hey, Cristine! Working late again?" he asked, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Just trying to make ends meet, Tony," she replied with a tired smile. "But it's okay. I like keeping busy." "Don't wear yourself out too much. You need to take care of yourself, too." Cristine nodded, appreciating the concern but knowing she had no choice. "I will. Thanks for the reminder!" With the delivery in hand, she headed out into the crisp air, her breath forming small clouds in front of her as she walked briskly. She made her way through the streets, navigating the bustling sidewalks filled with holiday shoppers and couples enjoying the evening. Each step took her closer to home, where she knew her grandmother would be waiting, and the weight of her responsibilities settled more heavily on her shoulders. Once she arrived at the apartment building, she climbed the stairs to the third floor, her legs weary from the day's work. As she approached her door, she noticed a flickering light coming from the hallway; the bulb was probably going out again. With a soft sigh, she opened the door, stepping into their small but cozy apartment. "Grandma, I'm home!" Cristine called out, her voice echoing in the quiet space. "Cristine! You're finally back!" her grandmother exclaimed, her frail form seated in her favorite armchair, a quilt draped over her knees. Her eyes sparkled with recognition, and for a brief moment, Cristine felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Yeah, I'm here! How was your day?" Cristine asked, setting her bag down on the small kitchen table and taking off her coat. "Oh, you know," her grandmother replied, her voice warm but distant. "Just waiting for my dear granddaughter to come home. Is she back yet?" Cristine's heart sank. She had anticipated this moment. Her grandmother's dementia had become progressively worse, and she sometimes struggled to recognize Cristine. It was heartbreaking, but Cristine had learned to adapt. "I'm here, Grandma. It's me, Cristine." "Cristine," her grandmother repeated, her brow furrowing slightly as if trying to remember. "Such a lovely name. Are you sure you're my granddaughter?" "Yes, Grandma, it's me," Cristine reassured her gently, stepping closer and squeezing her grandmother's hand. "I'm home, and I made dinner. Do you want to eat?" Her grandmother's face brightened at the mention of food. "Oh, yes! I'd love that. I'm so hungry." Cristine smiled, grateful for the moment of connection. She moved to the small kitchen, pulling out leftovers from the fridge. Cooking had become a luxury in their home; she often made meals in bulk on her days off to stretch their budget. As she heated the food, Cristine couldn't help but reflect on the path that had led her here. From giving out brochures on the streets to now delivering food and working in the salon on the weekends, she had endured a lifetime of hard work. Each job came with its own set of challenges and frustrations, but Cristine never allowed herself to think about giving up. "Dinner's ready!" she announced, setting the table for two. Her grandmother shuffled into the dining area, still wearing her favorite floral house dress. As they sat down to eat, Cristine watched her grandmother closely, noting the way her eyes occasionally glazed over. She had learned to fill the silence with stories, bringing their shared memories to life to help ground her grandmother. "Remember that time we made cookies together?" she began, a smile on her face. "You had flour all over your face!" "Oh, I do remember that!" her grandmother laughed, the warmth of the memory lighting up her eyes. "We made such a mess, but those cookies were delicious!" They continued sharing stories, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like old times. But as the meal wound down, Cristine could see her grandmother starting to drift again, the flicker of recognition fading from her gaze. "Grandma, what's your name?" Cristine asked gently, hoping to coax her grandmother back to the present. "Hmm?" Her grandmother looked puzzled, her brows furrowing. "I—I think I've forgotten again. I'm sorry, dear." "It's okay," Cristine replied softly, reaching across the table to hold her grandmother's hand. "You're Alice, my grandma. And I'm Cristine. Your granddaughter." "Oh, Cristine! Yes! I remember you now!" Her grandmother's face lit up, and Cristine felt her heart swell with affection. Just then, a loud knock on the door interrupted their moment. Cristine's stomach dropped; she wasn't expecting anyone, and it was late. "Stay here, Grandma. I'll see who it is," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. As she walked to the door, a sense of unease washed over her. She opened the door cautiously, revealing a man standing in the dim light of the hallway. He was tall and imposing, with a serious expression that made her heart race. "Cristine?" "Yes?" she replied, her voice wavering slightly. "Do you have the money?" he asked, his tone low and demanding. Cristine's heart sank. She knew exactly what he was talking about. The loan sharks had been relentless, always demanding their dues. "I—I just got off work," she stammered, glancing back at her grandmother, who had started to mumble to herself. "Don't play games, Cristine. You owe us," the man insisted, stepping closer. Taking a deep breath, she reached into her bag, feeling the weight of the cash she had worked so hard for that day. It was all she had left. "Just give me a moment," she said, her hands trembling. "Make it quick. We're not here to wait around," he replied, glancing over her shoulder, as if assessing her grandmother's state. Cristine fumbled with the money, counting it out as quickly as she could. Each bill felt like a piece of her hard work slipping away. The desperation in her chest grew heavier, a reminder of the dark shadows looming over their lives. She handed the cash to the man, forcing herself to keep her gaze steady. "Here," she said, trying to maintain her composure. "This is all I have for now. Please, just leave us alone." The man took the money without a word, counting it before shoving it into his pocket. "You'll need to come up with more next time. Understand?" Cristine nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She wanted to slam the door in his face, to yell and scream at him for the torment he caused, but instead, she simply shut the door, locking it behind her. When she turned back to her grandmother, Alice looked confused. "Who was that?" she asked, her brow wrinkled in concern. "Just someone from work, Grandma," Cristine replied, forcing a smile. "Nothing to worry about. Let's finish our dinner." They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the evening settling around them. Cristine picked at her food, the taste of despair lingering in the air. How had her life come to this? She had always wanted more for herself and her grandmother—a life free from financial strain and uncertainty. After dinner, Cristine helped her grandmother wash the dishes, the rhythm of their movements soothing. But as they finished, Cristine could feel the exhaustion creeping in, her body begging for rest. She sat with her grandmother on the couch, wrapping her arms around her frail shoulders. "Tell me a story, dear," Alice said, resting her head against Cristine's shoulder. "Okay," Cristine replied, her heart swelling with affection. "Once upon a time, there was a brave girl who worked very hard to take care of her beloved grandmother. They lived in a little apartment filled with love--" As she spoke, Cristine felt the weight of her responsibilities lift, if only for a moment. The struggles and hardships melted away as she painted a world where love triumphed over adversity. In those stories, she could see hope shining through the darkness. When Cristine finally put her grandmother to bed, she kissed her forehead gently. "Goodnight, Grandma. I love you." "I love you too, Cristine," Alice murmured, her eyes fluttering closed. Once she was settled in her own room, Cristine lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts of the day’s events. The visit from the loan shark gnawed at her. How much longer could she keep this up? Every day felt like a battle, with more and more pressure closing in on her. But she couldn’t give up. Not now, not ever. For as long as she had her grandmother, Cristine knew she had to keep fighting. Even if it meant giving everything she had. Even if it meant sacrificing her own dreams. Tomorrow was another day, another set of jobs, and more money to make. But as she closed her eyes and drifted into a restless sleep, Cristine made a silent promise to herself: she would find a way out, no matter the cost.