Chapter 5
The tires crunched over the gravel driveway as the car came to a stop inside the walled estate perched on the hillside.
Exhaustion had pulled me under long before we arrived.
I woke in a soft, expansive bed, dressed in clean pajamas. The room was wrapped in a dry, welcoming warmth.
"You're awake?" Charles was sitting on the sofa next to the bed, reading something on his tablet.
He had changed into casual clothes—a dark grey cashmere sweater that softened his otherwise imposing presence.
I tried to sit up, but a deep weariness held me down. "I..."
"Don't move." He set the tablet aside and pressed a call button on the bedside panel.
A middle-aged physician in a white coat entered promptly, followed by two nurses.
"Mr. Grant," the doctor greeted.
"Examine her. I want a full report on her condition and the child's," Charles said.
The doctor nodded and started checking me.
With efficient, gentle motions, the doctor listened for the fetal heartbeat, checked my blood pressure, and drew blood samples.
Charles stood watching, his expression unreadable.
Once finished, the doctor delivered his assessment.
"Ms. Sinclair is presenting with severe anemia and depressed bone marrow function. There is also a placental hematoma that requires close monitoring. While the fetus is currently stable, the mother's health is critically compromised. She requires complete bed rest supported by aggressive nutritional therapy and medication."
"Can the baby be saved?" Charles asked.
"With immediate, top-tier intervention, we estimate a seventy percent chance," the doctor replied.
Charles nodded. "Do whatever it takes. Spare no expense."
They filed out, leaving us alone again.
"Why are you helping me?" I asked.
Charles walked over to the window, his back to me. "I told you, the baby you're carrying is mine."
"Is it just because of the baby?" I asked.
He turned around to look at me. "What else could it be?"
Silence settled heavily between us.
Of course. What else could I possibly expect from a man I'd met only once?
Some profound, instant affection? The thought was absurd.
"Get some rest. If you need anything, just let the butler know. Once you're feeling better, we can talk about what comes next," he said.
At the door, he paused without looking back. "One more thing. Lucas. Do you require my intervention?"
I shook my head. "No, it's fine."
"Are you sure?" Charles asked.
"I'm sure. I'll deal with him myself," I said.
I thought I saw the faintest curve of a smile before he left. "Suit yourself," he said.
The door closed softly behind him.
I sank back into the pillows, staring at the ceiling.
Outside, snow continued to fall, muting the world. The room was so quiet I could hear the steady drum of my own heart.
My hand drifted to my abdomen. A life grew there. Not Lucas'. Charles'. A man entirely unknown to me, yet who now held absolute power over my survival.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed softly on the nightstand.
I picked it up and saw a message from a colleague at the hospital: [Nora, Dr. Reed's mother... didn't make it. She was pronounced brain dead at 3:17 AM. Dr. Reed had a breakdown. He shut himself in his office, refusing to see anyone.]
I stared at the words for a long time, then slid the phone beneath my pillow and closed my eyes.
I murmured to myself, "I'm sorry, Ms. Morse. It wasn't that I wouldn't save you.
"My marrow—the marrow your son took—was used to save a liar.
"Now, I can't even save myself. I'll repay my debt to you if there's an afterlife.
"As for you, Lucas... Now you know the taste of losing someone irreplaceable.
"Now you finally know what it feels like to lose someone close to you.
"But this is only the beginning. Wait for me. Wait until I return, carrying your child—no, Charles' child. That's when the real hell between us will finally begin.
Beyond the window, the snow fell thicker, burying the city and every trace of the past beneath a pristine white shroud.
Wrapped in the room's warmth, I fell into a deep sleep.
In my dreams, there was no Lucas, no Vivian.
Only an endless expanse of white and the blurred outline of a man holding my hand, his voice a quiet anchor in the stillness. "Don't be afraid. I'm here."