Mine
The Weight of the Crown
For five long months, the digital world had been a void where Michael Kaiser’s personal life used to be. The "Emperor" of Bastard München was still dominating the pitch, his movements as lethal and arrogant as ever, but the "Crown Jewel" had vanished. There were no more paparazzi shots of Angel leaving high-end boutiques, no more viral selfies in the reflection of Kaiser’s sports car, and no more sightings of her in the VIP boxes of the Allianz Arena.
The internet, as it was prone to do, had spiraled into a frenzy of speculation.
*@BlueLockGossip: It’s over. Kaiser finally got bored. Angel hasn't been seen since the Vogue shoot. The Emperor is single again.*
*@KaisersQueen: No way. He looked miserable in that post-match interview last week. Maybe she left him?*
*@FootballTruths: Sources say Angel moved back to Japan. The egoist was too much for her.*
Michael Kaiser read the headlines with a cold, amused detachment. He sat in the back of a luxury limousine, his hand resting on the thigh of the woman sitting beside him—the woman the world thought he had discarded. He felt the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her dress, and more importantly, he felt the subtle, rhythmic pulse of the life growing inside her.
"They think I threw you away," Kaiser murmured, his voice a low, vibrating hum.
Angel leaned her head against his shoulder, her black hair styled in a sophisticated, sleek updo that exposed the elegant line of her neck. "Let them think what they want, Michael. The surprise is always better when they’re convinced they’ve already lost."
Tonight was the Met Gala. The theme was "Gilded Ego," a concept that felt as if it had been tailored specifically for a man like Kaiser. But as the car pulled up to the red carpet at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Kaiser knew he wasn't the headline. He was merely the frame for the masterpiece beside him.
When the door opened, the wall of camera flashes was blinding. Kaiser stepped out first, looking every bit the sovereign in a custom-tailored navy velvet tuxedo, his blue-tipped hair caught in the strobe lights. He turned back, offering a hand with a flourish that was both protective and performative.
Angel stepped out, and for the first time in five months, the world saw her.
The collective gasp from the crowd was audible even over the shouting of the press. She was wearing a gown of sheer, gossamer-thin white silk that draped over her body like a waterfall. It was high-fashion, ethereal, and utterly provocative. But the most striking thing wasn't the dress—it was her silhouette.
She was visibly, undeniably pregnant.
The pregnancy had changed her petite frame in ways that made Kaiser’s blood simmer with a possessive heat. Her belly was a perfect, rounded curve beneath the thin fabric, but it was her chest that was drawing the most frantic attention. Her breasts, swollen and heavy with her pregnancy, were pushed up by the internal structure of the gown, looking as if they were moments away from spilling over the plunging neckline.
"Keep your head up, Liebling," Kaiser whispered, his hand sliding down to rest firmly on the small of her back. "Show them why you’re the only one allowed to carry my legacy."
The walk up the stairs was a gauntlet of chaos. The headlines were already being written in real-time.
*BREAKING: Kaiser’s Girlfriend Pregnant! The Emperor’s Heir is Coming!*
*STYLE WATCH: Angel’s Met Gala look is the most daring maternity outfit in history.*
But as they moved into the Great Hall, the admiration of the fans was replaced by the lingering, hungry gazes of the elite. Every man in the room—actors, athletes, designers—seemed to have their eyes glued to Angel’s chest. The thinness of the white silk left nothing to the imagination, and the way her breasts moved with every breath she took was a hypnotic distraction.
Kaiser felt the irritation prickling at the back of his neck. He was used to people staring at her; he usually invited it. But this was different. There was a primal, greedy quality to the way these men were looking at her now, as if her pregnancy made her a prize to be coveted even more fiercely.
"Michael, you’re squeezing my hand too hard," Angel whispered, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. She knew exactly what was happening. She loved the power she held over him, especially now.
"They’re looking at you like you’re on a menu," Kaiser hissed, his eyes scanning the room like a predator marking threats.
"You’re the one who picked the dress, remember?" she teased, leaning into him. "You said you wanted everyone to see what you’d done to me."
"I wanted them to be jealous, not drooling," he muttered.
They were approached by a famous Hollywood actor, a man known for his charm and his wandering eyes. He didn't even pretend to look at Kaiser as he took Angel’s hand to kiss it.
"An absolute vision," the actor said, his gaze dropping shamelessly to the swell of her breasts. "Michael, you are a lucky man. Though, I imagine it must be difficult to focus on football with such... magnificent distractions at home."
Kaiser’s jaw tightened. He stepped forward, subtly forcing the actor to retreat a step, and wrapped his arm around Angel’s waist, his fingers splaying across the curve of her stomach.
"It takes a certain level of discipline to handle perfection," Kaiser said, his voice dripping with icy arrogance. "A discipline I doubt you possess. Now, if you’ll excuse us, my wife needs to sit down. Carrying the weight of my future is exhausting."
As they walked away, Angel giggled. "’My wife’? We’re not married yet, Michael."
"Details," he snapped, though his eyes softened when he looked at her. "In my head, you’ve been mine since the second I saw you. The paperwork is just for the peasants."
They found a corner in the VIP lounge, but the respite was short-lived. Every celebrity who approached them followed the same pattern: a brief, polite greeting to Kaiser, followed by a long, lingering stare at Angel’s chest. The internet was already a battlefield of comments. Kaiser took a moment to glance at his phone, a mistake he regretted instantly.
*@User88: Look at the size of them! Pregnancy suits her way too well.*
*@FitFan: Kaiser is a lucky bastard. Those things are literally jumping out of the dress.*
*@GalaGossip: Is it even legal to look that good while six months pregnant? I can’t stop staring.*
Kaiser shoved the phone back into his pocket, his pulse racing. He looked at Angel, who was currently sipping a glass of sparkling water while a famous designer hovered over her, gesturing wildly at the "architectural beauty" of her silhouette.
"We’re leaving," Kaiser said, stepping into the conversation and cutting the designer off mid-sentence.
"But Michael, the main dinner hasn't even started," Angel said, her eyes wide with mock innocence.
"I don't care about the dinner. I’ve had enough of sharing you for one night," he growled.
He didn't give her a chance to argue. He led her out of the museum, ignoring the shouts of the photographers and the confused looks from the event organizers. The moment they were back in the sanctuary of the limousine, the partition went up, cutting them off from the driver.
Kaiser didn't wait. He lunged across the seat, his hands finding the weight of her breasts through the thin white silk.
"Michael!" she gasped, her back hitting the plush leather.
"I hated it," he growled, his face buried in the valley of her cleavage. "I hated every second of those losers looking at you. Thinking they have a right to appreciate what I built."
"You’re so dramatic," Angel whispered, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. "They can look all they want. But you’re the only one who gets to feel how heavy they are. You’re the only one who gets to see how much I’ve changed for you."
Kaiser looked up at her, his blue eyes burning with a dark, suffocating intensity. He reached for the neckline of the dress, his fingers hooking into the fabric. With a slow, deliberate tug, he pulled the silk down, freeing her.
The sight of her—bare, aching, and beautiful in the dim light of the car—silenced the roar of his ego. He leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin.
"You are mine," he murmured against her skin, a vow and a threat all in one. "Every curve, every breath, every inch. I’ll make sure you never forget it."
"I couldn't forget if I tried," Angel replied, her voice breaking as he began to show her exactly how much he had missed her over the last five months.
Outside, the world was still screaming their names, the images of the night already etched into the history of the internet. But inside the dark, moving car, there was no Emperor, no Crown Jewel, and no public. There was only the heat of possession and the weight of a legacy that was only just beginning.
The next morning, the headlines wouldn't just be about the pregnancy. They would be about the way Michael Kaiser looked at his woman—like a man who would burn the world down just to keep her in the shadows, all to himself. And for Angel, that was the only crown she ever wanted to wear.