The Heiress Spoiled by Four Brothers and One Devilish CEO-Chapter 191 Amelia Isn’t Among Them

Tristan curved his lips into a smile and reached out to Megan. Her hand landed softly in his palm.

With a gentle tug, he pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and resting his forehead lightly against her tummy.

Brandon scoffed. "I was just about to give you anesthesia. A third of your stitches have popped. How the hell did that happen? You’re asking for an infection."

Megan gently ran her fingers through Tristan’s tough hair. "He pulled them open hugging me earlier."

Tristan let out a low chuckle. "No need for anesthesia. Megan’s better than any painkiller."

Brandon almost choked on the cheesiness. "Wow. You’re really laying it on thick these days."

He snapped on a pair of gloves, drew the anesthetic into a syringe, and jabbed it into Tristan’s back.

Two minutes later, he began stitching.

"This was from a blast, right? Just how strong of an explosion was it to tear you up like this? And where the hell have you been the past few days?" Brandon clipped the thread neatly. "Look, as a buddy and family, I care about you. But as her brother—I’ve gotta call you out. You know Megan hasn’t been eating or sleeping. And she’s pregnant now. You can’t keep playing chicken with death."

Tristan gave a small nod. "Got it."

Brandon peeled off his gloves and tossed them in the trash. "You better think long and hard about this. If Megan ends up crying again, don’t think about showing your face around her."

He grabbed his medical kit and trash bag, and just as he reached the door, he turned his head. "Mr. Shaw’s surgery is scheduled for this Saturday at 8:30 am."

"Thanks, Brandon."

Megan’s sweet voice rang out. Brandon grinned. "Just remember—your brother will always be more reliable than your husband."

Tristan: "..."

After the door clicked shut, Megan cupped Tristan’s face, her fingers brushing across the faint stubble on his jaw. "A couple more days and you’d officially be an old man."

"Still got some fight in me," Tristan said, catching her wrist. "We’re past three months now, right? Doesn’t that mean it’s safe to, you know..."

"They say four months, actually."

"You little liar!" he teased, pulling her down onto his lap and wrapping her in an embrace.

Megan’s brows twitched, but she quickly smoothed her expression.

Tristan caught the fleeting change. "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing, I’m really okay."

He lifted her shirt. "Let me check."

"Geez, I’m fine. Why are you this eager so early in the morning?" she tried to deflect.

But Tristan’s expression turned serious. "You got hurt too, didn’t you?"

She pulled up her shirt higher, revealing a big, ugly bruise mirroring the spot at his back.

His brows drew together tightly, and Megan knew what he was thinking. She reached out to smooth his frown. "Look, I’m alright. And you didn’t know there’d be this kind of chain reaction."

Tristan’s face darkened with worry. "If the injury had hit my stomach instead... who knows? Did it hurt bad?"

Megan curled into his chest. "The bruise doesn’t hurt, but my heart aches. Seeing your wounds—it seriously felt like my chest was being ripped apart. Baby... what were you even doing out there?"

She looked up at him. "Is there something you’re still hiding from me?"

Tristan let out a long breath. "I’m King."

Megan shot up like a rocket. "Wait—you’re the King? That super scary arms dealer everyone fears? Holy crap, did I marry a walking crime boss?!"Tristan couldn’t hold back a laugh. He pinched Megan’s cheek, grinning, "Since when did I become someone who kills without blinking? Where did you hear that nonsense?"

"It’s what my assistant Arthur said. I mean, I heard arms trafficking brings in a lot of cash, so I was just thinking..." 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

"So your little brain went straight to crooked ideas, huh?" He flicked her forehead with a finger. "Lucky you didn’t actually get your hands dirty, or you’d be knee-deep in trouble by now."

"Then tell me—what exactly were you and Karl doing out there?"

Tristan gently rubbed her back, his voice low. "We followed the coordinates Jacob Scott gave us to track the mastermind. We didn’t find him, though. Ended up stumbling into a military base by accident. I had to blow it up."

"Who’s Jacob Scott?"

Tristan remembered he hadn’t filled her in on that part. Knowing how curious she was, he figured he might as well spill.

Megan’s eyes lit up with realization. "So Karl has nothing to do with Jacob, huh? Then what about his real parents?"

Tristan stayed quiet. Karl’s background wasn’t exactly something to be proud of, and he didn’t want her digging deeper.

He smiled faintly. "He grew up in an orphanage. No info on his birth parents."

Megan nodded thoughtfully, like she’d figured as much. She didn’t push.

"Sweetheart, I need a quick shower. I smell like a locker room."

Her brows knitted instantly. "With that long cut on your back? No way. I’ll wipe you down instead."

Tristan looked a bit sheepish. "I reek of sweat, though."

"Not at all." Megan leaned in close and nibbled playfully on his ear, whispering, "That’s the smell of a man."

She got up and went into the bathroom—only to find Tristan tailing her.

"Why are you following me in here?"

He stood behind her, chin resting on her shoulder. "Well, I figured... I can wipe my upper body while rinsing the lower half. Y’know, someone’s been missing you."

Megan blushed bright red, instantly understanding his suggestive tone.

Tristan began kissing her neck, gently, his hands slipping under her shirt. His touch was warm and sent shivers up her spine.

Knock knock! "Master, Miss, dinner’s ready!"

Tristan exhaled hard. "Babe, this is torture."

Megan adjusted her pajamas and whispered something in his ear that finally brought a small smirk to his lips.

Opening the door, Tristan stepped aside as Zeta Prime came in with a tray. "Alright—scrambled eggs and buttered toast, fresh off the stove. The toast’s from Goddess. The eggs? All me."

Megan gave him a look. "Zeta Prime, are you sure these are eggs? They’re all burnt to a crisp."

The eggs on the plate were stacked high, each blacker than the last.

Zeta Prime chuckled, "They’re not for eating! They’re proof of my undying devotion—look at the effort I put in for the master!"

Megan: "......"

Tristan: "......"

Zeta tilted his head. "Where’s Nova?"

"In the prayer hall."

"What happened?" Tristan sensed something was off. "Something went down these past few days, didn’t it?"

Megan told him about Mrs. Lewis drugging Nova. The rage in Tristan’s eyes burned cold. "If she weren’t your grandmother, she’d be rotting in prison by now. Personally escorted... by me."

Just then, the door flew open.

Brandon walked in quickly. "We checked all the bodies in the prison. Amelia isn’t among them."