The Love I Begged For Was Never Real novel Chapter 345

"Pregnant?"

Nora's cracked lips parted, the word slipping out hollow and raspy.

Her hands, resting on her knees, began to shake violently. Her nails dug ruthlessly into her palms.

"Doctor... are you sure there hasn't been a mistake? How could I... how could I possibly be... right now..."

The doctor, entirely used to patients having meltdowns in her office, waved a dismissive hand, signaling her not to hold up the line.

"There's no mistake. The numbers on the chart are clear as day. Two weeks. Go home, stay in bed, and start taking folic acid and vitamins."

"If you keep working yourself to the bone in this condition, you're at serious risk of a miscarriage. Come back in a week for an ultrasound to rule out an ectopic pregnancy. Next!"

Nora didn't even know how she stumbled out of the office.

Completely numb, she wandered into the hospital's open-air courtyard and collapsed onto a slightly damp wooden bench.

The early summer sun pierced through the leaves, striking her mercilessly.

With trembling hands, she pulled the flimsy piece of paper from her bag.

Two weeks.

Why now of all times?

Leaning back against the bench, she let the freezing tears spill over her cheeks, dripping silently onto the edges of the report.

For the past three years of her dead-end, loveless marriage, every time Gideon abandoned her for Giselle, every time she sat alone in that massive, empty villa waiting for the dawn, she had desperately prayed for a child.

Standing up, she hailed a cab back to the manor.

The coffee table in the living room was strewn with documents, premium catering brochures, and gold-foil invitation samples.

Gideon was sitting on the sofa, flipping through layout designs for Giselle's gala. Liam York stood respectfully beside him, reading off venue updates from a tablet.

Hearing the door open, Gideon raised his dark, penetrating eyes, his gaze sweeping over Nora's unsteady frame.

"Back already."

He set the brochure down, a deep frown creasing his forehead as his jaw tightened in clear displeasure.

"My men told me you went to the ER at Metropolis Central Hospital this afternoon. What's wrong? You still haven't fixed the mess at Lawrence Atelier, and now you've worked yourself into the hospital?"