Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
“There we go,” Dr. Charles says softly, her voice filled with a genuine warmth that makes my heart stop. “There’s your baby, Romy. And right there, that tiny, dancing pixel in the middle?” I lean forward, forgetting the position I’m in, and my eyes go wide as I stare at the screen. A tiny, rhythmic pulsing light is blinging against the gray background. So small yet so undeniable there.
“Oh, wow,” I say and then suddenly, Dr. Charles presses another button, and the room is instantly filled with a sound that shatters every ounce of my remaining defense.
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
The beat is fast, incredibly loud, and perfectly steady. A beautiful gallop that echoes against the walls. The sound of my child’s heartbeat, a perfect, strong life growing inside me. A gasp tears out of my throat, and before I can stop them, hot, heavy tears spill over my lashes, streaming down my cheeks in a relentless wave. I press a quivering hand over my mouth, a sob hitching in my chest. The sheer overwhelming awe of the moment completely wipes away everything: the fear, the isolation, and the nausea.
I look at Alex, who’s still standing by the counter, and to my surprise, her eyes are bright with unshed tears, a soft smile on her face as she listens to the same steady tempo I am.
“The heart rate is one hundred and fifty beats per minutes. Perfectly healthy. Strong and exactly where it needs to be for eight weeks,” Dr. Charles announces, her eyes crinkling with a smile.
I can’t take my eyes off the monitor, too much in awe of the profound, breathtaking wonder. The tiny, flickering light is half me and half Vik. A physical manifestation of a love that feels too heavy to carry, yet hearing the heartbeat, I know I’ll carry it to the ends of the earth. I wipe my wet cheeks with the back of my hand, keeping my gaze locked on the screen. Tomorrow, I can be terrified, and while I’m still plagued with worry about the future, listening to my unborn child’s fierce heartbeat, I know I’m no longer just surviving. I’m going to be a mother and I’m going to be strong enough for whatever comes next.
CHAPTER SIX
vik
The clock on the wall of my office clicks over to exactly eight o’clock in the morning, but I don’t bother looking at it. I don’t need to. I’ve been in my office since six, staring at the closed double doors like a predator waiting to trap its prey.
The city outside the window is slowly waking up in a haze of gray morning fog, but inside this suite of Sterling Capital, the air is pure fucking ice. I haven’t slept a wink. Instead, I spent the entire night pacing, my mind caught in a vicious cycle of the image from yesterday: Romy leaning into Alex while navigating the sidewalk, making it appear that there’s something wrong with her.
Alcohol didn’t help numb the clawing pain in my chest, hot and sharp. And at exactly one minute past eight, the doors swing open. Alex walks in, unbothered like she does every other morning. She has a leather-bound folder in her hands, her stride is confident, and her face is an unreadable mask of composure.
“Where were you with Romy yesterday?” I don’t bother with a hello; I don’t even let her close the door all the way before my voice slices through the silence. Alex pauses, her hand still resting on the brass door handle. She doesn’t flinch. She slowly turns, clicks the door shut behind her, and walks further inside my office with measured steps.
“Good morning to you, too, Vik,” she says smoothly, her tone dripping with professional defiance.
“I didn’t ask for the weather report, Alex,” I growl, leaning forward, slamming my palms flat against the dark wood of my desk. The sheer force of my movement makes the empty crystal tumble on the corner. “I asked you a question. Where were you with her, and why has she been scarce at Sterling Capital for three goddamn weeks?” I choke on the words, my throat tightening as the question I’ve been bleeding over finally rip out of me. “And has she mentioned me?” Christ, I sound like a sniveling toddler. The desperation in my own voice makes me loathe myself, but it can’t be helped. I’m a drowning man, and his assistant is holding the only lifeline to Romy. Alex stops a few feet from my desk, unintimidated by my size, status, or the fury rolling off me in ways. Instead, she tilts her head, a dry, witty smirk spread on her face.
“My, my, my,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Did you finally decide to come up for air from the bottle of vodka you’ve been busy drowning yourself in? I mean, the whole floor has been waiting for the fumes to clear.”