Pregnant with the billionaire Vampire Heir
Nyra Hearthe is a brilliant scientist, forced into an arranged marriage to the fierce Vampire lord Ardonis Stepanov. The vampire just wants her as a breeding vessel to get an heir and on their wedding-night, he took her virginity in the most humiliating way. Ardonis and his mistress Elara, plan to take the child away from Nyra when its born and divorce her.
She learns about their plot when she catches them in bed together. Pregnant and heartbroken, she vanished without a trace.
And now she's back.
As his new boss and the only scientist who can cure his deadly vampire illness that has infected him. He has just six months to live now.
He needs her cure to survive. She needs his body to complete her research. And this time, he is at her mercy. Their son stands between them, a living reminder of the day she walked away.
In the lab, power shifts and new desires surface, will Nyra save the man who broke her? Or make him suffer as she once did?
Chapters
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Chapter 1
Nyra's point of view
It's my wedding day, and my groom is a vampire.
This statement which, considering the way he looked at me during the rehearsal, ranks second only to "it's my wedding day, and I think my father just sold me."
The venue is every gothic bridal fantasy, if your fantasy includes haunting organ music and guests who might literally be a hundred years old. The wall is carved from obsidian stone with flickering lanterns casting long shadows. Vampire nobility sits in silence on the pews, watching my every step as my father and I walk down the aisle.
I look regal in my white flowy dress and too-long veil. My bouquet trembles in my hands. Not from nerves-well, partially nerves- but mostly because I'm resisting the urge to bolt.
Then I see him.
Ardonis Stepanov. The vampire Lord. My groom.
Tall, aristocratic, impossibly composed dressed in a tailored-to-perfection all black suit. Like he was attending a funeral, not his own wedding. The only color on him, is his long honey blonde hair and his ocean blue eyes. There's a knot between his brows, not interest, not excitement. Irritation. He looks like he'd rather be elsewhere.
Which is flattering. I think,
He doesn't offer a smile as I reach him. Just a cold glance, then his gaze shifts away as though he wants to get this over with. My father places my hands in his, and nods at Ardonis with a smug look on his wrinkled face. He probably feels like Einstein for initiating my marriage to the big pharma tycoon.
The officiant starts.
"Do you Nyra Hearthe, take Ardonis Stepanov......"
"I do," I answer despite everything inside me saying I shouldn't.
"Do you, Lord Stepanov, take Nyra Hearthe. ..... "
His jaw tightened and a long beat passed.
"I do."
Business transaction completed.
"Bound by the accord of coexistence of the clan, I now pronounce you Lord and wife." The officiant croons finally.
The rings are exchanged. The kiss is quick and clinical. His lips barely touch mine before he pulls away. My father gives a satisfied nod from the second row.
And just like that I am Mrs. Ardonis Stepanov.
Later, the ball room at the Grand Asteria shimmers with glass and gold, flooded with high-ranking vampires and influential politicians. Soft music plays, and waiters move silently between the tables.
Ardonis disappeared almost immediately. No explanation. So, I'm left forcing a smile through carefully worded congratulations from guests, trying to ignore the whispers. "Poor mortal girl.... she'll be lucky if she survives the wedding night."
I barely manage a sip of champagne before my father grabs my arm and pulls me toward a quiet corner.
"You're not smiling enough." He spits through gritted teeth.
"I'm sorry. I hiss. "I'll try to look more thrilled about my corporate sacrifice."
He grips my arm tighter. "Do not test me, girl. You owe me this. Act like a good wife and make him happy."
"What about me dad?" I whisper "What about my own happiness?"
"You don't matter here. So you Listen to me."
He paused and said in a dark voice that frightened me. "I would let the entire clan fuck you if it means saving my own skin. You understand?"
I nod stiffly. "Yes, father".
He harshly releases my arm and flitters away. Probably to go find some alcohol and drink himself to stupor as usual.
My gaze drifts across the hall and I freeze.
Ardonis stands near the balcony, locked in hushed conversation with a powerful figure – Lord Marcus Stepanov, his uncle. Both men wear matching tension. Ardonis' hands are clenched behind his back. Marcus gestures sternly, his expression just as stern.
Marcus suddenly turns, spotting me. His expression hardens even more, then he mutters something to Ardonis before leaving.
Before I can process what is happening, Ardonis suddenly appears in front of me.
He grabs me by the elbow and says harshly. "We're dancing."
No warmth. No request. Just command.
He leads me to the center of the dance floor. The room falls quiet. We begin to waltz, his hand resting lightly on my waist. Goosebumps spread all over me.
"You disappeared." I ask him tentatively. What am I doing? Trying to make him hate me more than he already does?
"Necessary." was his terse reply.
"That conversation seemed heated. Everything okay?"
"None of your business."
"You seem... unhappy."
"I am." He replies flatly, meeting my eyes. "But it changes nothing."
I attempt a smile. "Well, this is going off to a good start."
He doesn't respond.
We dance in silence for a moment. Then I ask quietly. "Why did you marry me?"
His steps don't falter, but his gaze does.
A pause. Then in a deep low voice; "Kitten, I think with time you will come to realize that some of us are born with certain. Obligations."
I ignore all he just said and focus on the only thing that registered in my brain. "What did you just call me?"
He doesn't answer and before I could ask more, he releases me, stepping back.
"We're leaving." He commands.
"But the reception-"
"Is unnecessary." His voice is devoid of softness. "Come. the car is waiting."
I pout my lips. "Do I at least get to have some cake first?"
"No."
Minutes later, I sit across from him in the Limo. He doesn't speak or look at me. Outside, protesters slam signs against the windows – no more Vampire Expansion, Human Rights First. Someone throws red paint, at the car startling me. and it streaks against the window like blood.
My nerves shoot up. Perhaps our union was a mistake, maybe its best humans and vampires stay away from each other after all.
I turn to him. "How often does that happen?"
He doesn't glance up or even acknowledge the protesters. "Ignore them. They're losers with nothing going on in their lives. And besides, loud minds accomplish little."
I breathe in and out slowly. Trying to force a calm that is not there.
And this is how my marriage begins. In silence. In protest.
Across from me, my husband closes his eyes like this entire day is something he intends to forget.
But now we have to deal with what comes after the wedding.
The wedding night.
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7.4
Forced into an unwanted marriage, quiet schoolteacher Delina Brooks is bound to Andrew Kingsley.He is a ruthless billionaire musician, cold and arrogant, and he hates Delina from the moment they wed.
But Andrew's world is not just his own. His glamorous ex-girlfriend, Camilla Laurent, and his manipulative sister, Veronica, are determined to destroy Delina-and reclaim Andrew for themselves. Surrounded by lies, secrets, and relentless enemies, Delina must fight for her dignity, her family, and her future.
As fate twists and turns, one question remains: Will the woman he despised become the only one he can't live without?
8.7
Love unspeakable
8.7
Note that the famale lead real name is isabella,not Mirabel.It was corrected to isabella in chapter two.
Love unspeakable volume one (part one).
Novel synopsis
Betrayed and abandoned by James, who is deceived into believing she is a prostitute, Isabella Laurent loses everything including love, trust, and family wealth. Alone and heartbroken, she meets Frederick, a billionaire scarred by betrayal, who helps her rediscover love and faith. As their bond grows, Isabella rises in Frederick's company, turning heartbreak into power, intelligence, and influence.
But darkness lingers. Janet and Lydia, jealous of Isabella's strength, murdered her father and stole his fortune. Now, they fear her ascent and plot her downfall. Veronica, Frederick's cunning ex, returns with a child and falsified DNA tests, attempting to claim him. Frederick resists, but can he protect Isabella from a web of lies, deceit, and danger?
Will Isabella reclaim her father's legacy? Can love survive amidst betrayal and ambition? And who truly watches from the shadows, ready to strike when least expected?
7.2
Chloe Bishop never imagined her blind date would end in marriage-to a complete stranger. Expecting nothing more than a calm, respectful life, she instead gained an oddly clingy husband who never left her side.
Stranger still, every problem she faced vanished the moment he intervened. His excuse? "Just good luck."
But Chloe's world shattered when she saw a televised interview with the city's richest billionaire-a man identical to her husband, openly devoted to his wife.
And that wife... was Chloe herself.
9.3
I lay on the wet asphalt, the cold rain mixing with the metallic taste of blood pooling in my mouth. My lungs were heavy, filling with fluid as my life ebbed away. Through swollen eyelids, I saw my lover, Clovis, and my stepsister, Alanna, standing over me with looks of pure triumph.
"Thanks for the trust fund, sister," Alanna whispered, shoving a phone screen in front of my dying eyes. The headline was a jagged blade to my soul: Caesar Williamson, the "tyrant" husband I had fled from, was dead in a multi-car collision. He had died trying to rescue me, thinking I was in danger.
The realization shattered what was left of my heart. The man I had spent years painting as a monster had driven into hell to save me, while the man I thought was my safety was the one who had just crushed my ribs with an iron bar. I had played right into their hands, ruining my reputation and my marriage for a lie. I watched them walk away, leaving me to choke on my own blood in the dark, discarded like a bag of trash.
I wanted to scream, to beg the universe for a rewind button, to tell Caesar I was sorry. The darkness pressed down on me, heavier than the betrayal, as my world finally went black.
Then, I was screaming.
I shot up in bed, gasping for air like a drowning woman breaking the surface. I scrambled at my abdomen—smooth skin, no blood, no tear. I grabbed my phone and saw the date: it was three years ago, the morning of my wedding to the Williamson estate.
I didn't waste a second. I scrubbed the "unstable" makeup from my face, threw on a white silk dress, and blocked the man who would eventually kill me. This time, I wasn't running away from the manor. I was going back to the husband I had once feared, ready to save the only man who had ever truly loved me.
8.3
I arrived at the mansion with nothing but the clothes on my back, expecting to work off my debt, but I quickly realized I was just inventory.
The air in the hallway was kept at a freezing temperature, a deliberate choice to preserve the art and remind girls like me that we were nothing more than furniture.
Inside the room, the sounds of a Hollywood starlet and a powerful man echoed through the walls, followed by the sight of discarded silk and cold, hard cash scattered across the marble floor.
When I accidentally stood in the way, I was tripped, mocked as trash, and left to bleed on the cold floor while the security guards watched with dead eyes.
Even when I begged for my passport, Chadwich Carey didn't see a human being; he saw a stain on his pristine, expensive reality that needed to be erased.
He crushed my fingers in the door, dragged me into the dark, and eventually used me to satisfy a drug-fueled hunger that no one else could touch, only to discard me back into the rain like garbage.
I sat in the freezing Bronx alley, shivering in his oversized shirt, realizing that he never intended to give me my freedom.
He thought he had broken me, that I was just another nameless girl to be silenced, but he was wrong.
I am not a box to be packed away or a hand to be severed.
He taught me that in this world, money and violence are the only languages that matter.
I will learn them both, and when I return, I won't be begging for my passport; I’ll be taking everything he owns.
8.8
I spent two years sweating on construction sites, hauling drywall and mixing cement, just to give Brittni the normal life she said she wanted. On our anniversary, I sat in our dark kitchen with a plate of homemade fettuccine and a one-carat diamond ring I’d saved six months of wages for, waiting for her to come home.
Then my phone pinged. An Instagram notification showed Brittni at a luxury rooftop gala, a bottle of Dom Perignon on ice, and a wealthy socialite’s hand resting possessively on her waist. She was wearing the expensive red dress I bought her for her birthday—the one she told me was "too fancy" for our simple dinner dates.
The caption read, "Back with my queen," and Brittni had replied with a single red heart. Minutes later, she texted me: "Stuck at a late-night board meeting, babe. Don't wait up. Love you!" I looked at the cold, congealed pasta and the jagged scar on my ribs from my time in the special forces, realizing the last two years were nothing but a lie built on her pity and my desperate need for normalcy.
I didn't scream or throw my phone. Instead, a strange, predatory calm washed over me—the "Ghost" persona kicking in to shut down the noise of heartbreak and focus on mission parameters. I was done being the "simple builder" who worried about rent while she used me as a placeholder until a "better" man came along.
I walked to the closet, pried up a loose floorboard, and pulled out a gold signet ring bearing the Hubbard family crest—the symbol of the multi-billion-dollar empire I had rejected five years ago. I dropped the modest engagement ring into the trash on top of the wasted pasta and dialed a number I had sworn never to call again.
"It's time, Harve. I'm coming home."
The motorcade was dispatched before I even hung up. As I stepped into a blacked-out Cadillac and watched the $50 million deposit hit my account, I realized how small Brittni’s world truly was. She thought she was trading up for a Rolex and a social media tag, but she was about to find out that the man she just ghosted was the heir to the very empire that owned her future.