"Bodyguard?" Gideon looked Chris up and down, letting his gaze linger before meeting those razor-sharp eyes. Something in his chest tightened.
And when he saw Chris physically pulling on Giselle's arm, irritation flared. "If you're a bodyguard, learn how to conduct yourself. Why are you grabbing Ms. Holt like that? What agency trained you? Do you not understand the basic etiquette of dealing with an employer?"
Chris' expression barely shifted. He lowered his head in a calculated show of submission, released Giselle's arm, and repeated calmly, "We need to leave."
Giselle's emotions tangled even more.
She glanced at Gideon—really looked at him—and realized he didn't appear well. His eyes seemed drained of life, and he had lost weight. His whole presence radiated weariness, like someone who had been living under a cold, gray sky for too long.
But what did that have to do with her?
At this stage, she knew the wisest thing she could do was nothing at all. Time would have to smooth everything out.
She touched her still-flat belly and forced herself to speak steadily. "Gideon, happy birthday. But I'm pregnant now. My appetite is terrible, and I can't take alcohol or heavy food. I can't stay to celebrate with you. I'm sorry."
"What? You're pregnant?" Marselle jumped in before Gideon could react. "Congratulations! You're going to be a mom! Honestly, if you'd told me earlier, I wouldn't have dragged you all the way out here. It must have been tiring."
The news struck Gideon like a blow straight to the chest. He had known this day would come eventually, but hearing it directly from Giselle, he felt something inside him collapse even further.
"Congratulations," he said quietly. He forced a smile, swallowing the bitterness burning up his throat. "Have you been stable these past months? No flare-ups? How's your health?"
"I'm fine. No episodes lately. And thank you for the medicine you brought back from Swestan. I've been taking it together with the new one Donovan developed. It's working well."

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