Chapter 5

"Mom, stop staring," the kid's voice softened, that rough, childish tone now tinged with an awkward gentleness. "The person in that painting isn't the same as Yvonne. Trust me, there's something shady going on here. Something really big."

I pulled my gaze away.

'Shady? What kind of shady stuff?' I thought to myself.

Before I could ask, hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway.

Ethan arrived, wearing a rumpled lab coat and carrying a medical bag. His glasses sat crooked on his nose, and his bald spot gleamed under the hallway lights.

"Mr. Quinn, it's so late. Who..." Ethan saw me and stopped. "Ms. Jennings? I thought you were..."

"Ethan," Liam cut him off, his tone sharp. "Run a blood test on her."

Ethan was a shrewd man. He kept his questions to himself, then opened his medical bag and pulled out the supplies: a blood tube, a tourniquet, and alcohol wipes.

"Ms. Jennings, please have a seat." Ethan pulled over a chair and motioned for me to extend my arm.

I sat down and rolled up my sleeve.

When the needle went in, I watched the dark red blood slowly fill the tube. Only one thought ran through my mind. This single vial of blood was worth hundreds of billions.

The kid muttered, "Ouch, needles sting. Hang in there, Mom."

I almost laughed out loud. The little one was in my belly, not my arm. How could it feel the pain?

Ethan finished drawing the blood and held a cotton ball to the spot. "The quick results will be ready in thirty minutes. The full report comes tomorrow."

Then he grabbed the samples and hurried off.

Those thirty minutes felt like the longest thirty minutes ever.

Liam kept pouring himself whiskey, draining a third of the bottle.

Yvonne sat quietly beside him, topping off his glass every now and then. Her fingers brushed his hand smoothly and naturally, as if she had done this a thousand times before.

I sat in a chair about ten feet away from them, hands resting on my knees. My thumb idly rubbed the cotton ball on my arm from the blood draw.

Thirty-two minutes later, Ethan knocked and stepped inside. He looked distinctly odd.

His expression was neither that of someone bearing good news nor bad. He seemed torn between shock and confusion, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"Mr. Quinn." Ethan pushed up his glasses, speaking far more slowly than usual. "The HCG levels confirm it. Ms. Jennings is pregnant, around six to seven weeks along."

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

I caught Liam's breath hitching for a split second. Yvonne's fingers on his shoulder tightened.

"Yes." The little one burst into cheers inside me. "Mom, we have solid proof. Let Liam try denying this now. We stand completely in the right. No one can get him out of this mess. He definitely owes us a proper explanation."

Liam set his glass down and stood up.

He walked over to the window, his back to everyone.

Beyond the window stretched the gardens of the Quinn residence after dark. Lampposts lined the gravel path, leading all the way to the west wing where I'd lived for two years. Its lights were now off.

Liam held his shoulders rigid. The shirt pulled taut across his shoulder blades, outlining hard, sharp lines.

He said flatly, "Everyone out."

Peter and Ethan didn't hesitate. They turned and bolted for the door, as if a pack of dogs was chasing them.

Yvonne stood up, took a couple of steps toward the door, then paused and glanced back at Liam. Her lips parted, like she wanted to say something.

"You, out too," Liam said, not bothering to turn around.

For the first time, a crack showed in Yvonne's expression. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her jaw grew taut. She lowered her head, letting her skirt cover her bare feet, and slipped out silently.

Just as the door clicked shut, she shot me a look.

That look was so cold that it sent chills down my spine.

Now it was only Liam and me alone in the room. Plus the chatty kid in my belly.

"Sylvia." Liam finally turned around, backlit by the window. His face was hidden in shadow, and only his voice drifted from the darkness. "Is this child mine?"

I looked at him. "Liam, for these past two years, I haven't been with anyone but you. Not a single guy."

Silence.

Then Liam did something I never saw coming.

He walked over and slowly crouched before me. Our eyes were now level. He no longer looked down on me. We faced each other eye to eye.

In the low light, his eyes held a deep hue. A subtle amber-brown rim edged each pupil.

For the first time, I saw his eyes clearly at this range and angle.

"Do you have any idea?" His voice was soft, and his Adam's apple bobbed. "What does this child mean?"

My heart was racing, but I gave nothing away. "I don't know. But I know I'll never abandon him at the boarding gate."

Liam studied me for a long time.

Long enough for the little one to mutter in my belly, "Mom, is he out of it? Why's he staying there stiff as a log?"

Finally, Liam stood up. "You'll stay in the west wing tonight." He turned away, his voice returning to its usual cold hardness. "Tomorrow we'll go to Mercy General Hospital for a full workup."