Scheduled an abortion

~ Loise ~

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped into the doctor's office, my fingers tightening around the strap of my purse as I tried to steady myself. Doctor Angela was sitting behind her desk, but what caught my attention was the man standing on the other side of the room, dressed entirely in black.

He looked intimidating even without saying a word.

The moment his eyes met mine, I felt the atmosphere in the room change, almost as though someone had suddenly turned down the temperature.

“Miss Loise, meet Mr. Andrew,” Doctor Angela announced, a tense crease forming between her brows.

“Mr—” I started, my voice cracking from all the crying I had done the night before, but he didn't give me the chance to finish.

“Follow me.”

His voice was deep and commanding as he turned around and walked out of the office without another word, leaving me standing there in confusion.

For a moment, I glanced at Doctor Angela, hoping she would explain what was happening, but she only gave me a look that made my stomach twist.

I quickly followed him.

The moment we stepped outside, he walked toward a sleek black sports car parked in front of the hospital. He opened the driver's door and got inside before looking in my direction, his eyes silently telling me to get in.

I swallowed nervously before opening the passenger door and sliding inside.

The car started almost immediately, and within seconds, we were driving away from the hospital and toward God knew where.

I sat quietly, my hands resting nervously on my lap as I stole another glance at the man beside me.

I didn't even know who he was. Was he the father of the baby?

The thought made my heart beat faster, and I turned toward him again, hoping his face might somehow give me an answer. Instead, he remained completely composed, his attention fixed on the expensive watch wrapped around his wrist as though taking me somewhere in the middle of nowhere was the most ordinary thing in the world.

I eventually turned my gaze toward the window, watching the sunny sky and endless rows of green trees blur past us.

For some reason, the sight made my chest ache.

I remembered how peaceful my life had once been when my parents were still alive. We had never been rich, but we had been happy, and somehow, that had always been enough. My mother could make an ordinary dinner feel like a feast, while my father could turn even the worst day into something worth smiling about.

I would give anything to go back to those days.

Instead, here I was, sitting inside a stranger's expensive car, pregnant with a child whose father I didn't even know, after being abandoned by the people who were supposed to take responsibility for me.

How had my life become this pathetic?

My gaze slowly dropped to my stomach, where the slightest curve had already begun to show beneath my clothes.

“We're here.”

The driver's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.I blinked and looked through the windshield, my mouth falling slightly open when I saw the enormous penthouse standing before us. This wasn't just a house, it looked like something out of a magazine, with towering glass windows, perfectly manicured surroundings, and an entrance so grand that I suddenly became painfully aware of how out of place I looked.

Mr. Andrew stepped out of the car, and I quickly followed him, clutching my purse against my chest as we walked inside.

The moment I entered, I was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the place. Everything looked expensive.The polished floors, the enormous chandelier hanging above us, the furniture that probably cost more than everything I had ever owned combined.

“Mr. Morgan will come downstairs shortly,” Mr. Andrew said, turning toward me. “In the meantime, please sit here and wait for him.”

He paused, his eyes traveling over me with an expression I couldn't quite place. 

“And don't touch anything.” he added, and I bit my lip, suddenly feeling like a trespasser. I hadn't noticed it in the car, but now l could see it clearly. He wasn't merely indifferent toward me, he looked at me with disdain. As though my very presence in the house offended him.

He turned around and walked away without another word, leaving me standing awkwardly in the enormous living room.

I watched him disappear down the hallway before slowly lowering myself onto the edge of the sofa.

Minutes later, I heard the sound of footsteps coming from upstairs, and my gaze immediately shifted toward the staircase, landing on the pair of polished black shoes slowly making their way down. The man descended the stairs with an almost effortless confidence, one hand resting casually against the railing, and by the time his face came into view, I found myself holding my breath.

If I had thought Mr. Andrew was cold, then this man was something else entirely. He was colder.

There was something about his presence that made the entire room feel smaller, and I couldn't help but shiver as he walked toward me before gracefully lowering himself onto the couch opposite mine.

For a few seconds, neither of us said anything.

I found myself staring at him, unable to look away.

He was, without a doubt, the most handsome man I had ever seen. His sharp jawline, perfectly styled dark hair, and those deep, unreadable eyes made him look like he had been sculpted rather than born. Even his thin lips were unfairly attractive, especially when they slowly curled into a smile.

But there was nothing warm about that smile.

It sent an uncomfortable shiver down my spine, the kind that made me feel as though I were sitting across from the devil himself.

“Now, let's get into business, shall we?” he asked, his voice calm and dangerously smooth.

I swallowed, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.

“Are you Mr. Morgan?”

His eyebrow lifted slightly.

“You already know the answer to that.”

I lowered my gaze, suddenly feeling foolish for asking. My fingers tightened around my purse as I tried to gather the courage to ask the question that had been haunting me since I left the hospital.

“Are you… the father of the baby?”

His eyes moved from my face to my stomach, lingering there for a moment before returning to mine.

“Probably.”

I instinctively placed a hand over my stomach, unsure whether I should feel relieved that I had finally found the answer or terrified about what would happen next.

Mr. Morgan leaned back against the couch, studying me with an expression I couldn't decipher. Then, without warning, he spoke.

“I have scheduled an abortion.”

My eyes widened. For a moment, I genuinely thought I had heard him wrong.

“I'm sorry… what?”

“I said I've scheduled an abortion.”