From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer novel Chapter 71

71 /131

**Chapter 4**

The arrival of the baby shifted everything in my life. It was a turning point, and Ryker, realizing the gravity of the situation, made a decision to compromise.

He brought me back to our home, the familiar scent of flowers wafting through the air, and took my hand gently, his grip firm yet uncertain. “Allison,” he began, his voice laced with regret, “I know I messed up. But you can’t keep acting like this.”

I felt a surge of anger rise within me. “Your parents—their faces have aged overnight because of you. People are whispering about them everywhere they go, Ryker!” My heart raced, the weight of my words hanging heavily between us.

He looked at me, his eyes pleading. “You’re not a kid anymore. Can’t you just… grow up?” The frustration in his tone was palpable, as if he were trying to shake me out of my despair.

He placed my hand delicately on my stomach, the reality of our situation sinking in. “Think about this baby. Think about your parents,” he urged, his voice softening.

Tears cascaded down my cheeks, each drop a testament to my internal struggle. I felt a fissure in my resolve, and this time, I acquiesced.

But as I pulled my hand back, I made it clear, “But don’t mistake compliance for forgiveness.” My voice was steady, but my heart was a storm of conflicting emotions.

From that moment on, I felt like a mere shadow of my former self—hollow, empty, and adrift in a sea of despair.

Days passed like echoes of a forgotten dream, and I wandered through our flower-filled home like a ghost, staring blankly at the walls that once felt so alive.

Ryker’s routine became predictable. He would come home on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, filling the air with the soft strains of prenatal music. He would kneel beside me, talking to my belly with an enthusiasm that felt foreign to me, embodying the role of a devoted father.

But on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, he vanished into a different world, one where he was with Nova, reveling in their blissful honeymoon phase.

He ignored his chronic stomach issues to indulge her whims, taking her to every trendy spot she desired—craft coffee shops, artisan donut bakeries, gourmet burger joints, and overpriced frozen yogurt places. If Nova wanted it, Ryker’s answer was always a resounding yes.

This was the same man who once declared that wasting even ten minutes of his life was an unforgivable sin. Yet here he was, willingly sitting through hours of sappy, tedious romantic comedies, all for her amusement.

The same man who had once prioritized his career above all else was now spending his days engaged in frivolous, childish activities, all to see her smile. He allowed Nova to put her name on research papers that she had no rightful claim to, skipping lectures to entertain her, and even mocking his colleagues just to elicit her laughter.

I felt my heart constrict with each passing day.

He had trampled on my dignity, obliterating every professional standard he had once claimed to uphold. But what ultimately shattered me was something far more profound.

The proposal.

That year, Ryker made a groundbreaking discovery—a minor asteroid that catapulted him to fame. His name graced the pages of international journals, and his face became a fixture in magazines, news outlets, and social media feeds.

At the pinnacle of his success, Ryker chose to share that glory with Nova. He named the asteroid “Nova’s Promise.”

Under a blanket of stars, Ryker and Nova exchanged vows, promising to never part from one another.

On the night of his award ceremony, held in a romantic planetarium adorned with twinkling lights, he threw a wedding for Nova beneath the very asteroid he had named after her.