Chapter 72
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072
ADRIAN’S phone buzzed, vibrating against his thigh as his hand quickly slid into his pocket. Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen, and immediately, his lips curved into a wide, involuntary smile.
Vivian noticed, pausing mid-sip of her wine. Her brow furrowed.
“Who is it?” she asked, her tone clipped, curious.
Adrian’s smile only widened.
“It is Hazel,” he said softly, reverently, as though even saying her name carried a different kind of joy. “My princess p>
“Ugh,” she almost muttered. Not this time, wrong timing! Her grip on her glass tightened. She forced another gulp of the wine down her throat, hoping the liquid warmth would calm the irritation rising in her chest.
“Hazel?” she repeated, the crease between her brows deepening.
“Yes,” Adrian replied simply, eyes bright with childlike excitement as he swiped to accept the video call.
“Um, baby… you can talk to her later, mm?” Vivian’s voice faltered, her lips twitching in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She set her glass down quickly. “Please… just this once. Stay with me. We p>
But Adrian was already half-rising, his chair scraping noisily against the tiles. He shot her a quick look, conflicted but determined.
“Ugh… I promised her,” he said firmly, though his tone carried a tenderness Vivian hadn’t heard in weeks. “I will just be quick, okay p>
Vivian’s lips parted, but no words came. She lifted her hand slightly, as though to stop him, but he was already gone, disappearing into the hallway, his eyes on the phone as he walked away, leaving her sitting by the candlelit table in a cloud of confusion, wine, and worry.
“Hello, Daddy!” Hazel’s small, excited voice rang out clearly through the hallway, her joy echoing back into the silence of the dining room.
Adrian’s voice softened, warm, filled with a love Vivian hadn’t seen from him in months.
“Hello, princess p>
Vivian slowly lowered herself back into her seat, her heart twisting as she listened, helpless. She grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled her half-empty glass, drowning her tremors with each sip.
“Are you busy, Daddy?” Hazel’s little voice asked.
Adrian chuckled softly, pacing the hallway.
“Well, now that you have called, no. So, take your time p>
Vivian’s hand froze halfway as she was about to raise her glass again. “Take your time?’ That was what he should have been telling her, not that child. She forced the bitter thought away with another gulp of wine.
“Daddy?” Hazel cried again.
“Yes?” Adrian replied quickly, his voice brimming with eager patience.
“You said you have a surprise for me p>
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Adrian smiled, his footsteps fading further into the hallway as though he didn’t want Vivian overhearing.
“I’m going to show you the surprise. It is upstairs,” he whispered.
Vivian sat back in her chair, the rim of her glass brushing her lips again. But the wine no longer dulled the ache, it only deepened the hollow echoing inside her chest. Her eyes stung as she stared at the table, the still-glowing candles mocking her with their cheerfulness.
And this time, it wasn’t another woman. It was his daughter.
And Vivian wasn’t sure which hurt more.
Amelia dragged her feet slowly out of the bathroom, her silk robe brushing the tiled floor. Her left hand supported the curve of her baby bump while the other clung tightly to her mother’s arm.
“Easy… easy, a step at a time, Amelia,” Mrs. Harlow murmured, guiding her gently toward the bed.
Amelia’s face was pale, her brows knit in discomfort, and worry lingered in her eyes. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she struggled with each step, before finally sinking onto the edge of the bed with a sigh of relief.
“I told you, Mom,” Amelia breathed, brushing strands of damp hair from her forehead. “This is exactly what I have been trying to tell you over the phone. I have been feeling… strange. These complications, sometimes mild, sometimes sharp, but I haven’t done anything about it yet p>
Mrs. Harlow’s expression hardened. She put her hands on her hips, staring at her daughter with stern disapproval.
“Amelia Cole, are you even listening to yourself? You have been going through this, and instead of calling your doctor, you have been wasting time telling me over the phone? What in the world were you thinking p>
Amelia lowered her gaze, her fingers absentmindedly caressing her belly.
“I thought it was just… maybe normal. You know, pregnancy discomforts. Everyone said it happens, that it comes and goes p>
“Pregnancy discomforts?” her mother snapped. “There is a difference between ‘discomfort’ and ‘complications,’ Amelia. You should never assume. This is your health and your baby’s health we are talking about. What if something serious happens p>
Amelia sighed, leaning back against the headboard.
“I didn’t want to overreact. I didn’t want you panicking. I thought I could just endure it p>
Her mother bent down slightly, her voice softening but still laced with frustration.
“Endure? Endure what? This is not about proving strength or pretending everything is fine. A mother’s instinct is to protect her child, and that means speaking up when something is wrong p>
Amelia’s lips trembled as she whispered, “I was scared… scared the doctor might say something is wrong p>
Mrs. Harlow took her hand firmly.
“And you think ignoring it will make it go away? Amelia, you are not a child anymore. You are a mother now. Fear cannot make decisions for you p>
Silence lingered for a moment. Amelia blinked, her eyes glassy, her breathing shallow. Her mother gave her hand one final squeeze and then straightened.
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“That is it. Enough of this nonsense,” Mrs. Harlow declared firmly. “Get ready. We are leaving for the hospital immediately. No arguments, Amelia. You are going to have a proper check-up and we are going to hear from the doctor herself. Do you understand me p>
Amelia nodded slowly, lips parting as though to protest but finding no strength to argue. Her mother’s tone left no room for debate.
“Good,” Mrs. Harlow said, pulling open the wardrobe and taking out a simple dress for her. “Now, change into this. I will be waiting in the car. We are not risking a single moment more p>
Amelia rested her hand protectively over her bump, whispering faintly, “For you, little one,” before dragging herself up to comply with her mother’s demand.
Adrian finally ended the video call with Hazel, smiling faintly as he slid his phone into his pocket. He began making his way back toward the dining room, his steps unhurried. Vivian was waiting for him, he knew. He could almost picture her seated there, glass in hand, eager for him to return so they could continue the awkwardly tender moment she had tried to create.
“Yeah, so ugh…” he began as he stepped back into the dining, his voice trailing casually, until it froze.
The words died in his throat. His heart slammed hard against his ribs.
“What?” Adrian gasped, his face draining of color as he pocketed his phone and rushed forward.
Vivian was sprawled on the floor. Her body jerked violently, spasms wracking her frame. A whitish substance foamed from the corner of her mouth, trailing down her cheek, staining the polished floor. The chair she had been sitting on was overturned behind her, evidence of how suddenly she had fallen. Her hands clawed weakly at the air, her legs thrashing against the ground as muffled, incoherent sounds slipped out of her throat.
“Vivian?!” Adrian dropped to his knees beside her, panic tightening his chest. He gripped her shoulders, desperate, his eyes darting over her convulsing form as if searching for a clue, an answer, something he could fix.
“What is it, Vivian?!” His voice broke as he turned her over, cradling her head, fear rushing in like a tidal wave. He had never seen her like this, never imagined this moment.
Her jerking didn’t stop. Her eyes rolled back, her lips trembling as more of the whitish foam leaked from the corner of her mouth.
Adrian’s breath hitched, a raw sound escaping him. That was when panic fully struck. Without another thought, he scooped her into his arms, lifting her limp, convulsing body against his chest.
“Hold on,
with terror.
Vivian. Hold on!” he choked, his legs propelling him toward the door in a frantic rush, his mind blank
He bolted out, carrying her, the dining table with its untouched meal, the flickering candles, and the broken moment abandoned behind him.
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Cedella
Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.