A Year With The Billionaire
Chapter 90

Isabella's POV

The book store is unusually crowded today which made it slow for me to get the sales boy to get me my type of books.

I still read romance books. Some are similar to my kind of situation while others are beautiful from beginning to end even though trials and tribulations are inevitable. But what matters most is the love and trust between the couples. By the time I got the books, I was already tired and I doubt if I will be able to come back here if the store continues getting crowded this way.

I couldn't even sit and it was getting harder by the day for me to squat or bend down.

I guess I will have to stop going to the store since I have enough books to last me for the month now or I can ask the boys to have them delivered to my doorstep. It won't hurt to spend more money on what keeps me busy.

I haven't been spending a lot but I have the intention of doing that soon.

The money I got from Jayden is still saved up in my account. I used half of it for Grandma's surgery and the other money has been sustaining me for six months now. Some sentences are incomplete if you are not reading this novel on Ebookex.com. Visit Ebookex.com to read the complete chapters for free. I intend to shop for baby things online and have them delivered to my doorstep. It would have been so nice to have someone to accompany me to do some window shopping for the baby things but I have no one and going alone seems like a bad idea.

I think I have been so lazy too.

It makes me laugh sometimes when I finish eating and clearing the plates or washing them seems like a big deal. I know how hardworking I used to be and the changes in me make me laugh. Adjusting my tote bag on my shoulder, I walk home, taking slow steps at a time till I get home.

I am wearing a pair of pants to ease the morning walk and also sandals. I haven't worn heels since I got here and I doubt if I will be able to wear any of them in the next six months.

When I get to the front of the building, I remember that I have to take the stairs to the fifth floor and I almost stomp my feet on the floor in frustration.

"Oh, Goodness!" I mutter derisively to myself as I walk inside, towards the staircase. I really have no choice but to do this.

I can't wait to be inside. I am too tired to think of a solution. Besides, there isn't even any reasonable solution.

The only thing I can do is to sit downstairs for a while till I can regain my lost strength before taking the staircase up but that isn't good enough.

I don't want to be embarrassed. A neighbor can come out to see me sitting and the look of pity on their faces will make me feel bad for myself.

Breathlessly, I begin to count to 50 when I get to the third floor as I take each staircase at a time. This has become a routine. By the time I get to 50, I will be at my doorstep already.

At 50, I am on the last staircase, barely breathing.

I breathe out a sigh of relief, taking in as much breath as I can and practically dragging my feet to my apartment door.

I am about to open the door with the almost rusty key I was given by the landlady when I see a bouquet with a small paper fixed tightly on the doorknob.

My jaws drop in confusion as I glance around the hallway to see if someone had mistakenly dropped this here instead of elsewhere.

The door next to me opens and the woman comes out. Her gaze falls on the flower and she smiles.

"You got yourself a secret admirer?" Her eyes twinkle with amusement. "I saw it earlier before I entered my apartment."

Instead of replying to her, I just continue to look. She locks her door and winks at me before turning on her heels to the staircase.

She is the same woman that always knocks on my door whenever I am crying. I don't know how she knows that I am American and why she speaks English to me without asking me if I understood French. Every other person I have met assumes that I understand French, even those who say I look American at first glance.

The first month here was frustrating. The people here can be mean to your face especially if you don't speak French. I forced myself to learn French online and within a month, I could communicate well in French.

I avert my gaze away from her disappearing figure and back to the flower in my hand.

My curiosity gets the better of me as I take the small piece of paper to read what is inside.

It reads. "You are a masterpiece and your beauty is one in a million."

Now I am more than sure that this is a mistake. This isn't meant for me. This should be for one of the young ladies in this apartment who walk out elegantly in the morning looking like people who don't live in this old apartment.

I can't dispose of the flower so I open the door and enter with it. I drop it on the table before walking slowly to my cane chair to sit, watching the view out of the window to soothe my frustration before I begin to read the new books I got. I got ten books and for once in my life, I want to give horror a try. I hope I won't end up screaming till my baby pops out of me unexpectedly.

I chuckle to myself as I slouch into the chair.

I have always loved romance over other genres. Horror fills me with fear and wild imagination and I might end up having nightmares.

Whenever I watch a horror movie in school, my roommates roll their eyes at me because of my screaming but when it gets intense, I will be thrown out of the room and I won't end up watching the movie till the end.

I laugh again to myself as I look out of the window, the morning air brushing past my face from the window when I lean forward.

After a while, I lean backward and drop my tote bag to pick out the first book my hand touches so I can start reading.

Reading romance is doing no good to my state of mind but I can't help it. It makes me laugh whenever I wish for something similar or something more.

I know I can't have it.

A secret admirer is a cliche too. That is absurd.

Why? Because I am pregnant and ugly. An unconscious laugh leaves my mouth. How can I be attractive to any sane man?

I can't remember the last time I looked in the mirror to check my appearance before going out. I believe no one is looking at me and even if they look at me and they see the belly, the interest will disappear into thin air.

I am not even interested in any romance at the moment. Maybe when my baby is born and I have finally gotten healed, I might give it a chance but I have learned my lessons.

It's a probability because I don't know what the future holds. But right now, I am done. I am not interested. My baby is my priority now and that will determine whether I will decide to be a single mother for life.

Realizing that I am lost in thought, I blink and grab a novel to begin reading when a knock comes on the door.

I snap my head backward with a deep frown on my face.

Who could that be?

No one visits me. The neighbor next door is the only one who knocks on my door apart from the landlady. Could it be about the flower? Did the admirer or lover realize he dropped it off in the wrong place?

That must be it, I say within me as I get up from the chair.

My next-door neighbor whom I don't even know her name has gone to work.

I wonder where she works.

Sluggishly, I saunter to the door but before I get too close, the knock comes again.

I move close and turn the doorknob to open the door.

A woman has her head lowered with a hat on.

Before I can say anything, she hoists her head up and our eyes meet.

"Grandma!" I scream with my legs turning jelly and my whole body shaking vigorously.

Her soft eyes turn into something unreadable while I am thinking she would throw her arms around me in an embrace.

Instead, she examines me carefully, her gaze falling on my big belly while I also examine the expensive dress she is wearing.

When I look up again, she looks angry and she raises her hand to strike my face.

"Grandma!" I scream again and her hand stops halfway as she begins to cry.