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Two pink lines on a pregnancy test shattered my ordinary barista life. Suddenly, I was Sarah Miller, supposedly carrying the heir to reclusive billionaire Alexander Blackwood, whisked away to his sprawling, cold mansion. Eighteen excruciating and baffling months later, the moment of truth arrived as I went into labor. But instead of a baby, I delivered a large, pulsating, iridescent egg. The delivery room erupted in chaos: doctors and nurses fainted, and the socialite who' d hated me shrieked about "poultry" and "bestiality." My parents looked utterly bewildered, while I lay there, staring in horrified disbelief at the impossible, shimmering egg. What had just happened? Was I going insane? Was this some cruel, cosmic joke played on the unsuspecting barista? Then, Alexander Blackwood, usually so stoic, looked at the egg with reverence. "Just like my ancestors described," he whispered, revealing an ancient, secret lineage of Dragon-kin. My life, I realized, was about to become anything but ordinary, as I was plunged headfirst into a world of hidden magic, with a dragon king and two special eggs as my unexpected destiny.