Chapter 22

❤️Sophie❤️

By the time the convoy screeches into the emergency entrance of Blackwood Hospital, I have accepted two things. First, I am definitely not dying. Second, apparently no one has informed Adrian Blackwood.

The Rolls Royce hasn't even come to a complete stop before my door is opened.

“Sir.”

Three men are already standing outside.

Adrian steps out first, his expensive suit still decorated with the evidence of my spectacular morning sickness. Yet he doesn't spare it a single glance.

Instead, he turns back to me, “Can you stand?”

“I've been standing for twenty years.”

His expression doesn't change, “Answer the question.”

“Yes.”

The moment my feet hit the ground, he reaches for my elbow.

“I can walk.”

“I know.” Yet he doesn't let go.

The emergency doors slide open before we even reach them. Five doctors, three nurses, two orderlies with a wheelchair—all rushing toward us like a disaster has arrived.

A gray-haired doctor reaches us first, “Mr. Blackwood.”

“Examine her.”

The doctor immediately looks at me, “What happened?”

Before I can answer, Adrian does, “She’s pregnant.”

“I know that!” I shout. I just shouted at a billionaire in public.

Ignoring me, he continues, “She vomited and complained of stomach discomfort.”

I shift from one foot to the other, “That’s because armed men were surrounding the car.”

The doctor looks between us, Adrian’s ruined shirt, then back at me. A strange silence settles over everyone.

The doctor clears his throat professionally, “Let’s examine Miss….”

“Harrison,” I finish.

“It’s Blackwood in two days,” Adrian says automatically.

I stare at him, seriously?

The doctor nods, “Of course,” he gestures toward the examination room. “This way.”

“I can walk by myself.”

No one listens. Absolutely no one.

Five minutes later, I'm sitting on an examination bed while a nurse checks my blood pressure. “It’s normal.”

Another checks my temperature, “Normal.” Then my pulse, “Also normal.”

I fold my arms, “I told him.”

Outside the partially open curtain, Adrian is pacing. Actually pacing.

The man who barely blinked when bodyguards drew guns is tearing a path into the hospital floor.

The doctor notices where I'm looking, “He looks worried.”

“Of course, strange.”

He scribbles something on his clipboard, “So what exactly happened?”

“I panicked.”

“Because?”

“There were guns.”

“Okay, that’s reasonable.”

“I got nauseous and threw up.”

He glances toward the curtain, “On him?”

Heat floods my cheeks, “Unfortunately.”

The doctor’s lip twitches, “I see.”

A soft knock on the door interrupts, and Adrian doesn't wait for permission; he walks straight in. Even the doctor isn’t offended.

“Results.”

“We are still examining her.”

His jaw tightens, “How long?”

“Five more minutes.”

“I will wait.”

“Very well.”

The doctor continues, pressing down gently against my abdomen. “Does this hurt?”

“No.”

“Any cramps?”

I shake my head.

“Dizziness?”

“Yes, when I saw men carrying guns.”

The doctor nods as though that’s the most normal thing in the world. He finishes his examination before removing his gloves.

“Everything looks perfectly fine.”

I smile triumphantly, “I told you.”

Adrian doesn't look convinced, “What caused the vomiting?”

“Stress and pregnancy.”

“And?”

“Morning sickness.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“No internal bleeding? Or placenta complications?”

“Everything is fine, including the baby.”

Adrian studies him for another long moment, then his tension eases slightly off his shoulder—just a little.

“So?” he says carefully.

“I’d recommend plenty of rest, hydration, smaller meals, and avoiding unnecessary stress.”

I point toward Adrian, “Tell him that.”

The doctor looks confused but turns anyway, “Mr. Blackwood.”

“Yes.”

“She should avoid unnecessary stress.”

Adrian nods once, “I understand.”

I throw both hands into the air, “You are the unnecessary stress!”

For the first time since we entered the hospital, a young nurse actually laughs. She quickly covers her mouth, “I'm sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I mutter.

The doctor closes the file, “You are free to go.”

Finally. I hop down from the examination bed. “I'm starving.”

“That’s normal,” the doctor replies. “You will probably notice your appetite increasing.”

“I knew it.” I turn toward Adrian with the biggest smile I've managed all morning, “See? I'm alive.”

He studies my face for a while, “Yes.”

“So you can stop looking like you’re attending my funeral.”

Before he can speak, a nurse appears carrying a neatly folded package, “Mr. Blackwood, the package is here.”

He accepts it, “Alright.”

Only then does he finally look down at the stain covering the front of his shirt, “I'm changing. I’ll be right back,” he says, moving toward a door.

Heat rushes to my face again, “I’m still really sorry.”

He looks back at me, “It’s only clothes.”

Only clothes? That suit probably costs more than my entire wardrobe.

He disappears into the private changing room. Five minutes later, he steps out wearing another perfectly tailored black suit.

The doctor walks toward the exit, “Take care of yourself, Miss Harrison.”

Just before we leave, the doctor quietly calls after Adrian, “Mr. Blackwood.”

He stops.

“You did the right thing bringing her in, but morning sickness usually doesn't require a full emergency convoy. You scared us.”

Adrian adjusts his tie, “I don't take chances.”

The doctor nods knowingly, “I can see that.”

Outside, the convoy is already waiting. I glance sideways at Adrian as we walk toward the Rolls Royce, “You know, I think every doctor in this hospital will remember me.”

“Why?”

“For vomiting on you.”

We get into the car, and I release a sigh. “So what now?”

“Now, we begin the bridal fitting.”

The convoy moves before I know it. Adrian begins typing something into his laptop while I stare out the window, watching trees and buildings blur past.

Adrian looks up and clears his throat, “Sophie.”

My eyes dart to him, “Yes?”

“How much do you know about your father’s business?”

My father’s business.

I shrug, “More than most daughters, I guess. He never hid it from me. Whenever he closed a big deal, he would tell me about it, sometimes even drag me into his office to explain what his company was working on.”

I smile despite myself, “Not because I was interested. I mostly nodded until he stopped talking. He used to joke that one day I’d take over the company.”

Adrian watches me without interrupting, “Has he been mentioned where he started?” he asks quietly.

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“His first company, his first business partner. Anything from before Harrison Group became successful.”

I shake my head, suddenly wondering why he might be interested in that, but I smile anyway, “No, Dad hardly talks about those years. Why are you asking?”

“I just think your father is an interesting man.”

“Of course he is.”