My Pregnancy Contract With The Billionaire

Chapter 2

Cristine sat at the small, cluttered kitchen table, staring at a stack of bills and receipts that seemed to mock her from their neat little piles. Her fingers fumbled as she sorted through the envelopes, her heart sinking lower with each passing moment. The kitchen was dimly lit by a single bulb hanging above her head, casting a weak light that flickered occasionally. The distant hum of the city outside was the only thing breaking the silence of the room.

She rubbed her temples, trying to ease the tension that had built up over the course of the day. Her body ached from the hours of running around—from handing out brochures to delivering food, to sweeping hair off the salon floor. But this, the bills, always felt like the most grueling task of them all.

It wasn't just the physical tiredness. It was the emotional exhaustion, the constant weight of knowing that no matter how hard she worked, she would never catch up.

As she reached for the next envelope, her hands trembled. The rent was due in five days, and she had barely scraped together enough to pay it. But even after rent, there was more—utilities, food, medical supplies for her grandmother, and, of course, the relentless demands of the loan sharks.

Cristine pulled out a sheet of paper where she had scribbled down her earnings for the past few weeks. She glanced at the number, mentally calculating what she might earn over the next few days if she pushed herself to the limit. She'd be lucky to make enough to cover rent, let alone the other bills that were piling up like a tidal wave ready to crash down on her.

And then there was the debt—the suffocating, insurmountable debt that wasn’t even hers.

It had been her father’s, a legacy of bad choices, gambling, and desperation. When he passed away, the debt hadn’t died with him. Instead, it had been transferred to her, a cruel inheritance that now ruled her life. Cristine had tried negotiating, pleading with the loan sharks to understand that she was doing everything she could, but they didn’t care. They didn’t want excuses. They wanted money.

And they wanted it now.

Cristine glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost 9 p.m. The loan sharks would be back soon, knocking on her door, demanding p*****t she didn’t have. The last time they had come, she’d barely managed to scrape together enough to avoid something worse. But this time, she had nothing. Nothing except the money she had worked for all day, and that wasn’t even enough to pay off a fraction of the debt.

She felt her throat tighten as the panic began to rise. Sometimes, in moments like this, she wanted to give up. She wanted to lie down, close her eyes, and forget everything. The endless work, the crushing debt, the fear of losing everything. She was tired—so, so tired.

But then, her grandmother’s voice drifted from the other room, bringing her back to reality.

"Is that you, Cristine?" her grandmother called out, her voice weak but filled with warmth.

Cristine closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. No, she couldn’t give up. She had to keep going—for her grandmother. Her grandmother was the only family she had left, and Cristine couldn’t bear the thought of what might happen if she wasn’t there to take care of her.

Her grandmother had been diagnosed with dementia a few years ago, and each day was a struggle. Some days, she would forget simple things—what day it was, or what she had eaten for lunch. Other days, she wouldn’t recognize Cristine at all. It was heartbreaking, but Cristine had learned to live with it, just as she had learned to live with the crushing weight of the debt.

She forced herself to push the bills aside for now and placed the money she had earned that day into separate envelopes. One for rent. One for food. One for the medical bills that seemed to never stop coming. It wasn’t much, but it was all she had.

As she finished, she heard soft footsteps approaching from the hallway. Her grandmother shuffled into the kitchen, her frail body wrapped in a worn shawl. Her eyes, once sharp and full of life, now seemed clouded with confusion.

“Cristine, dear,” her grandmother said softly, her voice filled with concern. “Are you alright?”

Cristine plastered on a smile, trying to mask the exhaustion and worry that weighed her down. “Yes, Grandma. I’m fine,” she lied, hoping her grandmother wouldn’t see through it.

Her grandmother tilted her head, studying Cristine for a moment. “You’ve been working so hard lately. You look so tired, my dear.”

Cristine couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Yeah, it’s been a long day. But I’m okay. I’m taking care of everything.”

Her grandmother’s expression softened, but there was still a glint of concern in her eyes. “Do you need more money, Cristine? Is that why you’re working so much? To pay the bills?”

Cristine’s chest tightened. She didn’t want her grandmother to worry about things like this. Her grandmother had been through enough—losing her son, living with dementia, and now depending on Cristine for everything. She deserved peace, not the stress of knowing their financial situation was crumbling.

“I’m managing, Grandma,” Cristine said gently, reaching out to take her grandmother’s hand. “It’s just... things are a little tight right now. But I’m doing everything I can.”

Her grandmother nodded slowly, her gaze drifting toward the kitchen window as if searching for something beyond the glass. “Don’t worry too much, my dear,” she said after a moment of silence. “My daughter will be here any moment. She went out to the grocery store. I’ll ask her to lend you some money when she gets back. She’ll help, I’m sure of it.”

Cristine froze. The words hit her like a punch to the gut.

Her grandmother wasn’t talking about Cristine. She was talking about her mother—Cristine’s mother. The woman who had walked out on them years ago, leaving Cristine and her father to fend for themselves. Her mother had never come back. And Cristine had spent most of her life trying to forget the abandonment, trying to move on from the hurt.

But her grandmother, in her confused state, still believed her daughter would return. That she would walk through the door at any moment, groceries in hand, ready to help.

Cristine felt tears prick the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back. She couldn’t let her grandmother see how much those words hurt. Instead, she forced a smile and nodded.

“That’s kind of you, Grandma,” she said softly. “But we’ll be okay. I’m handling it.”

Her grandmother smiled, oblivious to the pain beneath Cristine’s words. “You’ve always been so responsible, Cristine. Such a good girl. I know you’ll take care of everything.”

Cristine swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to push down the overwhelming sense of sadness that had taken hold. She didn’t feel like a “good girl.” She felt like someone who was drowning, barely keeping her head above water.

As her grandmother shuffled back to the living room, humming softly to herself, Cristine slumped into the nearest chair. She rested her head in her hands, letting out a shaky breath.

The list of bills sat on the table in front of her, an ever-present reminder of how impossible her situation was. No matter what she did, the debt would never go away. The loan sharks would always come knocking, demanding more than she could give. She could work every day for the rest of her life, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Sometimes, late at night, when the weight of everything became too much to bear, Cristine wondered what it would be like to just give up. To walk away from it all. She was so tired—tired of fighting, tired of struggling, tired of pretending everything was fine when it was far from it.

But then she would think of her grandmother, alone and vulnerable, and the thought of leaving her was unbearable. Who would take care of her if Cristine wasn’t there? Who would make sure she was safe, that she had food, that she was loved?

There was no one else. Cristine was all she had. And that was why giving up wasn’t an option.

Cristine sighed deeply, pushing the bills aside and standing up. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, taking a long sip to steady her nerves. The weight on her shoulders felt heavier than ever, and she didn’t know how much longer she could carry it.

Just as she was about to sit back down, there was a knock at the door. Her heart leaped into her throat, and she froze, staring at the door as if it were a monster waiting to devour her.

The loan sharks. They were early.

Cristine took a deep breath, trying to calm the panic rising inside her. She had nothing left to give them. She had worked all day, and it still wasn’t enough. What would they do this time if she couldn’t pay?

The knock came again, louder this time, more insistent.

With trembling hands, Cristine walked to the door, her mind racing through all the possible scenarios. She could try to reason with them, explain that she was doing her best. But they didn’t care. They never cared.

As she reached for the doorknob, a sense of dread settled over her, like a thick fog wrapping itself around her chest, making it hard to breathe.

She opened the door.

A man stood in

the doorway, his expression cold and unfeeling. He didn’t even have to say a word—Cristine knew what he was here for.

Without a word, she handed him the envelope of money she had earned that day. It was everything she had, and it wasn’t nearly enough.

The man took the envelope, his eyes narrowing as he counted the money inside. After a moment, he looked up at her, his face hardening.

“You know this isn’t enough,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Cristine nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

The man stuffed the envelope into his pocket, his eyes boring into hers. “Next time, we won’t be so lenient. You’d better have more, or there will be consequences.”

Cristine swallowed hard, nodding again.

The man turned and walked away, leaving her standing in the doorway, her heart pounding in her chest.

As she closed the door, a wave of exhaustion washed over her. She leaned against the doorframe, her mind spinning with thoughts of how she was going to get through this. How was she going to survive?

"I need to find more job soon."