Chapter 3

_Danica’s POV_

The hospital waiting room always hummed with a quiet, unsettling buzz and today was nothing special. I hoped that I wouldn't see anyone I knew or that knew me here. It has already been two days since the doctor confirmed that I was pregnant, I could barely sleep or eat without worrying. I was so afraid of my family catching on.

I clutched my purse strap so tight my knuckles went white.

I quickly got to my feet and followed the nurse when my name was called.

“The doctor is already there waiting,” the nurse opened the door for me. I strode inside, my breathing unsteady as I wondered how I would face the doctor.

“Good to see you again,” a somewhat familiar voice came.

“You're here?” I was surprised. It was the doctor I had met two days ago who had informed me of my pregnancy.

“Yes. When I heard you were here again, I decided to take your case personally. I noticed even last time that you were scared to open up so I thought it would be best for me, someone who has handled you before to see you again,” she explained.

“T-Thank you,” I was relieved to see her. I felt comfortable with her so I was worried about being attended to by another doctor. I perched on the bed, my hands trembling as I instinctively reached for my still-flat belly. It was there, though. She had told me to think about it but I had been doing anything but that…

“Have you thought about it or are you still unsure of what to do?” She asked.

“I'm unsure,” I answered. The truth is, the thought of killing the baby scared me as much as being caught by my family.

“Okay then, let's keep the baby healthy until you are sure of what you want to do,” she nodded her head. After performing an ultrasound on me, she talked about vitamins I needed and a possible change in my diet

The more the doctor told me what to do and what to avoid, the more it settled on me that I truly was carrying a child. I never thought I'd have a child this way, caught up in a drunken haze.

How was I supposed to bring a child into this world without knowing its father? Without even knowing what had truly happened to me?

The appointment eventually wrapped up, leaving me feeling even more lost than before. I clung to the doctor’s parting advice like a lifeline, even as my mind continued to reel. Stepping out of the hospital, the sun hit me with an unwelcome warmth, making me squint. All I wanted was to get home, pull the covers over my head, and disappear from the world’s prying eyes.

But as I took my first step off the curb, a man in black stepped out from a car parked nearby. He was tall, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his posture so rigid it looked almost military. He moved towards my direction, maybe he had business with the hospital.

“Miss Danica Laurent?” His voice was calm, deep, and utterly devoid of emotion.

“ Y-Yes?” I panicked. How did he know my name?

“My boss, Mrs. Cross, would like to meet with you,” he stated, his dark, unreadable eyes fixed on mine. There was no hint of a question in his tone, only an expectation.

Mrs. Cross? The name was more than familiar. The Cross family was popular and beyond wealthy, they owned multiple businesses, including the hotel were everything happened. What did she want?

“I… I’m sorry,” I stammered, shaking my head. “I don’t know any Mrs. Cross. I can’t. I have to go.” I tried to move around him again, my hand already reaching for my phone, a desperate, illogical thought of calling for help.

But he shifted, blocking my escape once more. “I assure you, Miss Laurent, this is a matter of utmost importance. It concerns the father of your child.”

My breath hitched. My hand froze mid-air, hovering uselessly.

The father of my child?

My eyes widened, staring at him in utter disbelief.

How in the world could he possibly know? My pregnancy was barely confirmed; it was a secret I hadn't even whispered to Freya, my closest friend.

Yet, this man, a complete stranger, knew.

That could only mean that I had been watched.

“You… you know?” My voice was low, I didn't want anyone to hear.

He gave a slight nod. “Yes, Miss Laurent. Mrs. Cross has been… informed. She believes it is crucial that you both speak.” He subtly gestured towards the waiting car.

My mind raced, I was both afraid and confused. I wasn't sure if I was making the right call but I also wanted to know.

How did she know about my pregnancy, about the father, when even I barely did?

And how was it of any concern to her?

Swallowing hard, I finally nodded. “Alright, take me to her.”

He opened the back door of the sleek, black car. The interior was plush and comfortable, the tinted windows kept me on edge.

I got in despite how skeptical and nervous I was, and the man in the suit got into the driver’s seat. The car pulled away smoothly, merging effortlessly with the traffic on the streets of New York.

The drive was quiet, tense, every second stretching out. I stared out the window, watching the streets pass by, yet feeling utterly detached from them.

We pulled up to a grand gate that led to a mansion that completely dwarfed even the Laurent estate. The driver opened my door, and I stepped out, my legs feeling suddenly weak beneath me.

He led me through the doors and into an entryway that rivaled a museum lobby, with paintings and drawings hung on the wall.

Finally, he ushered me into a vast, elegant drawing-room.

Seated on a plush velvet chaise lounge was Old Eleanor Cross.

“My dear,” she said, her voice surprisingly gentle despite her stern appearance, “please sit,” she gestured to an armchair opposite her.

“I apologize for the abruptness of this meeting, Miss Laurent,” she continued, her gaze unwavering. “But as my assistant has informed you, this is a matter of considerable importance. I have been informed of your condition.”

My cheeks flushed. Informed. That sounded so clinical, it was kinda unnerving.

“The father of your child,” she stated, her voice firm, leaving no room for doubt, “is my grandson, Eden Cross.”

My breath caught in my throat. Eden Cross.

“And I assure you, Miss Laurent,” she continued, her eyes fixed on mine, radiating an unwavering resolve, “my grandson will take responsibility for this child.”