Chapter 69
I had almost forgotten about it, honestly.
But he, surprisingly, hadn’t.
Drying my face with a soft towel, I said, “No need, I’m fine.”
He frowned, “Weren’t you feeling unwell last night?”
How could I possibly tell him that the doctor had advised against intimacy during the first trimester of pregnancy?
So, I deflected, “I’m better now.”
He was skeptical, “Really?”
If we were to go, it would be to the exclusive clinic under the Ferguson Group, where we’d use a private entrance.
No waiting in lines, and the test results would come back quickly.
But that would make it even harder for me to hide the pregnancy.
I couldn’t go, no matter what.
Avoiding his gaze, I said, “I just don’t want to go. I hate hospitals.”
“Jane.” Bryant’s eyes narrowed slightly, “You’re not hiding something from me, are you?”
My nervousness made me drop the moisturizer I was holding onto the marble countertop with a sharp clink, nearly stopping my heart.
It was too obvious I was hiding something.
He stepped closer, turning me to face him with a look that seemed to pierce right throug me, “Is there really something you’re not telling me?”
“Bryant…”
He hesitated, then said, “Are you… sick?”
I let out a long sigh, “Yes, so let’s just get a divorce and not hold each other back.”
“Impossible!” He raised his voice suddenly, a tremble in it hard to detect, and grabbed my hand to lead me outside.
“Bryant, what are you doing?”
“We’re going to the hospital.”
He gripped my wrist so tightly it hurt.
But I couldn’t find it in me to be angry, “Are you afraid I’m going to die or somethin
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Chapter 69
As soon as I said it, he spun around, his expression stern and teeth gritted, “If you dare to die, I’ll nab your ashes and stash them in my family’s tomb.””
His fierce demeanor took me aback, and I couldn’t help but scoff. “Psycho.”
It was almost as if he cared deeply. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he had fallen for
Bryant’s face darkened, but he didn’t let go of my hand, “We’re going to the hospital.”
Refusing any further could lead him to directly check my medical records.
Either way,
I’d be facing the same outcome.
Gritting my teeth, I said, albeit with a shaky voice, “Fine, let’s go.”
“Are you nervous?”
“No.”
It wasn’t nervousness; it was fear. But I had no choice in the matter.
On the way to the hospital, I was distracted, worrying about what would happen if he found out about the pregnancy.
Would we still be able to get a smooth divorce after Timothy’s 80th birthday?
Or… Would he allow me to have the baby, potentially causing issues in his and Margaret’s future life together?
The thought made me shiver.
Glancing at Bryant driving, his profile stern and tense, I felt even more uneasy.
It was supposed to be a routine check-up, but at the hospital, we were greeted personally by the head doctor.
“I don’t need a CT scan.” When setting up the check-up, I spoke up.
Bryant asked, “Why?”
“I just had one during the company’s health screening. Why expose myself to more
radiation for no reason?”
After I finished, worried he might suspect something, Bryant glanced at the head doctor.
“Can other tests detect if there’s something wrong with her?”
“The other tests should be sufficient, Mr. Ferguson,” the head doctor replied.
“Alright then.”
Bryant seemed slightly relieved.
I quickly added, “And the ultrasound… I had that done recently too…”
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