Chapter 2 2

Next came the demand for mangoes... from Thailand. Not just any mangoes. The first harvest mangoes. Imported. Fresh. Sweet. And delivered before sunrise.

Damian nearly broke three international trade laws trying to get them.

Then came bubble tea-"but only from the tiny shop near my college campus," Livia declared. Damian had his entire security team tailing her old classmates just to find the exact recipe.

Then came the most insulting demand of all.

"Damian," she said innocently one afternoon, "I want fried chicken. From your rival's restaurant."

Brown swore he saw a vein explode on Damian's forehead.

"My rival?" Damian growled. "Of all the fast-food chains in this entire country, you want the one owned by my business competitor?"

Livia fluttered her lashes. "The baby wants it."

And that was that.

...

The Banished CEO

"Don't come near me!" Livia shrieked one night, her face pale. "I can't stand the smell of you. Even the way you breathe is irritating!"

A pillow flew across the room and smacked Damian squarely in the chest.

"Couch. Now."

The mighty Damian Alexander, master of the business world, could only sigh, clutch the pillow in defeat, and march obediently toward the sofa.

Brown nearly wept when he saw it. His invincible boss, banished to the couch by a woman half-asleep and armed with morning sickness.

"Sir," Brown whispered the next morning, "you... look like you've aged ten years overnight."

Damian's glare could have melted steel. "Don't. Say. A word."

The Secret Notebook

Livia, meanwhile, was busy scribbling away in her secret little notebook, hidden beneath the wardrobe. The sound of her pen scratching was accompanied by occasional evil giggles.

"Perfect," she whispered. "Pregnancy is the ultimate excuse. If I play my cards right, Damian won't be able to refuse me anything."

Her list grew longer by the day:

Restart her online shop.

Sneak out of the mansion without bodyguards.

Go shopping for baby clothes.

Convince Damian to buy her that ridiculous limited-edition handbag.

Maybe... just maybe... make him sing karaoke.

Every craving was just another stepping stone toward freedom.

Damian's Breaking Point

Damian, however, was reaching the edge of his sanity.

His assistant caught him one morning standing in front of the pantry, eyes bloodshot, muttering to himself.

"Cravings. Mangoes. Pickles. Bubble tea. Fried chicken. Next it'll be caviar mixed with gummy bears. Or pizza sprinkled with gold dust. She's plotting my downfall, Brown. My complete and utter downfall."

"Sir," Brown said cautiously, "maybe... it's just hormones?"

Damian whipped around, eyes narrowing like he'd just been stabbed in the back.

"Don't you dare side with her."

Brown lifted both hands in surrender. "I wasn't-"

"Don't."

A beat of silence. Brown cleared his throat. "You're right. The young lady is... ridiculous. Maybe I should at least warn-"

Damian's glare could have melted steel. "Don't you dare. She is my wife. Only I get to suffer."

...

The Storm to Come

And poor Damian? He had no idea what storm was about to hit him.

Because Livia wasn't slowing down. Her confidence was only growing.

Every craving was a test. Every demand a new battlefield. And every time Damian gave in, her smile grew brighter, sharper, more mischievous.

Between Livia's antics, Brown's constant stress, and Damian's rapidly crumbling pride, one thing was certain-this household was about to become a comedy of cravings, chaos, and the sweetest kind of revenge.