Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 383

Chapter 383

Madeline’s POV

The private clinic Vivian had booked for my ultrasound was one of those expensive, sterile places that smelled 1. disinfectant mixed with imported perfume. The cold marble-and-glass environment made me feel even more suffocated, like a prisoner being escorted to yet another mandatory procedure.

From the moment we stepped into reception, Vivian took complete control. She handed over my documents, gave my insurance information, answered questions that should’ve been directed at me. If she could’ve signed for me, she would have. All of it was done with that polished efficiency that had become her trademark.

“Madeline Sullivan for an ultrasound with Dr. Helen Montgomery,” she told the receptionist, as if I were incapable of speaking for myself.

“Relationship to the patient?” the woman asked, glancing from Vivian to me.

“Best friend and godmother,” Vivian replied with a radiant smile. “I’m handling all her medical arrangements so she can focus solely on the baby’s well-being.”

The way she said it made my stomach churn. As if my pregnancy were a joint project. As if she had any right to decisions about my child.

When we were called into the exam room, Dr. Montgomery greeted us with a professional smile. She was a middle-aged woman, with gray hair pulled into an immaculate bun.

“So, Madeline,” she said, addressing me directly, “how have you been feeling? Any specific symptoms?”

Before I could answer, Vivian jumped in.

“She’s had some morning sickness, but nothing out of the ordinary. We’re very excited to see the baby for the first time and make sure everything’s healthy.”

The doctor glanced briefly at Vivian, then turned back to me.

“How have you been feeling?” she repeated.

“The nausea is… intense,” I managed. “Mostly in the mornings. And I’m extremely tired.”

“Completely normal for the first trimester,” she said gently, motioning for me to lie down. “Let’s take a look at your baby.”

I lay back on the exam table, lifting my shirt slightly to expose my still mostly flat stomach. The ultrasound gel was cold, making me flinch when she applied it. Vivian positioned herself beside the table, watching every movement closely.

When the image appeared on the screen, my heart stopped for a second.

There it was. My baby.

Tiny, still more like a little bean than a person, but real. Completely real. Then the sound of the heartbeat filled the room, fast and strong, and my eyes burned with tears.

It was the first time since discovering the pregnancy that I felt something genuinely maternal, something not

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rooted in fear

Icon Ces. This was my child. No matter who the father was. No matter the circumstances.

A life growing inside me.

“Ten weeks,” Dr. Montgomery announced, adjusting the probe to capture different angles. “Development is completely normal for this gestational age.

“What a blessing!” Vivian exclaimed, with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Can we tell the sex yet? And the size? Everything looks healthy?”

“It’s still too early to determine the sex,” the doctor replied patiently. “And yes, based on what we can measure, development is exactly where it should be.”

Vivian leaned closer to the screen, as if studying every pixel of the image.

“Doctor,” Vivian said, her tone turning serious, “is it already possible to do a DNA test? It’s important that we have absolute certainty about everything as early as possible.”

My entire body went rigid. The doctor stopped moving the probe and looked directly at Vivian, then at me.

“We?” she repeated, clearly thrown off by the plural.

“Well, I’m her best friend, of course. And also the baby’s father,” Vivian said quickly. “We want to be sure everything is perfectly in order.”

Dr. Montgomery studied me carefully before answering.

“There are two types of fetal DNA tests,” she explained calmly. “Invasive tests, like chorionic villus sampling and amniocentesis, which require collecting fetal material directly. And noninvasive tests, like NIPT, which analyze fetal DNA circulating in the mother’s blood.”

My heart was pounding so hard I was sure they could hear it.

“In theory, NIPT can be done at this gestational age,” the doctor continued. “However, in Madeline’s case, I do not recommend any genetic testing at this time.”

“Why not?” Vivian asked immediately.

The doctor pointed to a specific area on the ultrasound screen.

“I detected a small placental detachment,” she explained evenly. “It’s not severe if managed properly, but any additional stress on the body could worsen it. For that reason, I don’t recommend unnecessary exams right now.

“But doctor,” Vivian insisted, her voice sharpening, “this is essential. The baby’s father needs to be fully informed.”

Dr. Montgomery turned off the ultrasound machine and faced me directly.

“And what about you, Madeline?” she asked. “Do you want to do this test now?”

Tears burned behind my eyes. Vivian was staring at me, waiting for me to say yes. Waiting for me to agree to yet another item on the control checklist she and Dominic had created for my pregnancy, without any real concern for how it might affect my baby.

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“I just want whatever is healthiest for my baby,” I whispered.

The doctor nodded slowly, as if my answer confirmed something she’d already suspected.

“I need to run a follow-up exam to better assess the detachment,” she e pient in a nearby room. Madeline, can you come with me?”

Said, standing. “I’ll use different

Vivian immediately stood as well.

“Of course, we’ll-”

“Hospital protocol doesn’t allow companions for this exam,” Dr. Montgomery interrupted firmly, though her tone remained polite. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

Vivian hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of leaving me alone with the doctor. As I walked out of the room, she shot me an icy look that said be careful without using words.

The adjacent room was smaller and quieter. Dr. Montgomery closed the door behind us-and to my surprise, turned the key in the lock.

She stared at me for a few seconds before speaking.

“I need you to tell me what’s really going on here,” she said in a low but resolute voice. “Or I’m going to have to call the police.”

My entire body froze. My breathing sped up, my heart raced, panic clawing its way up my throat.

“No-no, please,” I shook my head desperately.

“That companion is speaking for you, deciding for you, pressuring medical decisions,” the doctor continued. ” That is not normal behavior.”

The tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t explain. I could only cry silently.

“I just need to get out of here,” I whispered at last. “I need to leave without her realizing.”

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