My Baby Daddy Isn't Human-Chapter 201: Close To Disaster

Sloane sat on the edge of her bed, fingers curled tightly around the glass in her hand. The amber liquid inside glinted faintly under the dim glow of the single lamp by her bedside. She tilted the glass back, downing the rest in one quick motion, the burn trailing down her throat doing little to ease the heaviness pressing against her chest.

"Geez..." she muttered, raking her fingers through her messy hair, tugging at the strands as if the sharp pain could drown out the thoughts circling relentlessly in her mind.

Her gaze drifted toward the small window. The moon hung high, casting pale light over the stone walls. The events of the day played back in her head—the panic, the fear, the way Raelynn’s body had writhed in pain. Everything was unraveling faster than anyone could control.

A sigh escaped her lips as she leaned back slightly, her body weighed down by exhaustion. Her eyelids fluttered closed, drawing her mind back to the day Elion had come to her doorstep.

**

It had been late evening, the air still clinging to the last traces of warmth. Sloane’s small home nestled deep within the woods was a haven tucked away from the city. The knock on the door had been soft but strong at the same time.

She opened the door, one eyebrow quirking upward. "Well, well... look what the wind dragged in. It’s been a while, Vaelorian. What brings you to my humble abode?"

Elion stood at the threshold, his tall figure casting long shadows across the wooden floor. His face was pale, sharper than she remembered. The usual calm that always wrapped around him like a second skin seemed frayed at the edges.

"Sloane... I need your help."

Her brows rose higher. "Now that’s something I never thought I’d hear. The great Elion Vaelorian asking for help? What happened—did you finally realize you’re not invincible?"

His mouth twitched, but the smile never reached his eyes. "I’m serious. This isn’t something I can handle on my own."

The humor faded from her face at the quiet strain in his voice. Sloane stepped back, letting him inside. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing them in the warm hush of the room.

She poured two glasses of whiskey, sliding one across the table toward him. "Alright, spill it. What’s got the mighty Elion so rattled?"

He stared down at the glass, his fingers wrapping around it without lifting it to his lips. There was a long pause before he finally spoke, each word weighed down with something heavy.

"I’m going to be a father."

Sloane blinked once, then twice. Silence stretched between them before she snorted, shaking her head. "Oh, come on. If you’re going to tell me lies, at least make them believable."

"I’m not joking."

Her smile faltered when she realized he wasn’t smiling. Elion’s silver eyes locked onto hers—steady, unwavering.

"You’re serious...?"

He nodded once. "Come to the mansion if you don’t believe me. See for yourself."

Sloane let out a short laugh, but it lacked her usual amusement. "Elion, you can’t get someone pregnant. That’s not how this works."

"I know that," he said, his voice calm but firm. "And yet, it still happened."

Sloane studied his face, searching for any sign that he was messing with her. But there was nothing—just that unwavering, serious expression that made her stomach twist. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

Elion tilted his head slightly. "Do you want to help or not?"

Sloane scoffed. "Geez, a lot of attitude for someone asking for a favor." She tapped her fingers against her arm, considering it for a moment before a smirk tugged at her lips. "But you know what? This sounds like it could be fun. So yeah, why not?"

For a moment, Sloane could only stare, trying to process the impossible. Elion Vaelorian—cold, aloof, with a heart carved from ice—was going to be a father?

She leaned back in her chair, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. "Well, I’ll be damned..."

**

The memory faded as Sloane’s eyes snapped open, the weight of reality crashing back down on her shoulders. Her empty glass dangled loosely between her fingers, sweat gathering at the nape of her neck despite the chill in the room.

Everything had gone south so quickly.

Raelynn’s condition... the unanswered questions...

"Damn fool..." she muttered under her breath. Her fingers tightened around the glass until it trembled in her grip.

And maybe she wasn’t just talking about him.

Sloane rubbed her temple, trying to push back the headache forming behind her eyes. She hated this feeling—the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her. If things kept going this way, if they didn’t figure something out soon...

Sloane let out a slow breath. So Elion wanted her help, but when it actually mattered, there was nothing she could do.

It was frustrating.

She wasn’t some clueless bystander—she was supposed to be useful. She had always prided herself on that. Yet here she was, sitting in the dark, feeling completely useless.

Sloane pushed herself to her feet, her bare feet brushing against the cold floor. The room seemed smaller, closing in around her. The air hung heavy with the scent of herbs and old books, but none of it brought the usual comfort.

She walked to the small table by the window, pouring herself another drink with steady hands. The liquid sloshed in the glass, reflecting the fractured moonlight. She stared at it for a long moment before setting it down without taking a sip.

No more running. No more turning a blind eye.

Sloane exhaled slowly, pressing her fingers against the cool surface of the glass. The faint clink of ice shifting echoed in the quiet room. She didn’t need the drink—what she needed was a plan.

Things were already bad. But if they didn’t move quickly, they could get even worse.

She drummed her fingers against the table, her mind racing. Every second they wasted was another step closer to disaster. She wasn’t naive enough to think they had time to spare.

They didn’t.