Chapter 8: Pictured:Someone's watching

Next Morning

Sarah shot upright in bed, her stomach twisting like a tightly pulled knot.

In a panicked rush, she scrambled out of bed, her bare feet slapping against the icy marble floor. She barely made it to the bathroom before she collapsed to her knees, retching violently. The echo of her heaves bounced off the porcelain, her body revolting against her with unrelenting force.

When it finally subsided, she slumped against the cool wall, gasping and drenched in sweat, her heart racing.

What is happening to me? She pressed a trembling hand to her forehead, forcing herself to look at her reflection in the mirror.

The sight nearly made her recoil.

Pale skin, dark circles etched under her eyes, cracked lips, red and weary; she looked like a woman on the brink of collapse.

I need to get out of here. I need answers.

With bile still lingering in her throat, she pushed to her feet and rinsed her mouth, each motion robotic. Her hands instinctively found their way to her stomach, a flicker of fear igniting within her.

Is it possible...? No, that can’t be.

She tore her gaze from the mirror.

I have to go to the hospital. I need to know if I’m hallucinating or if this is real.

But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, it rebelled, dragging her back to last night.

Andrew's cold voice echoed, his gaze sharp and commanding, as he had ordered her to dinner like she was a mere pawn.

The hell was I thinking?

She scoffed aloud, snatching her brush from the counter.

Foolish me. Seeking warmth in the devil’s shadow.

Brushing her hair with frantic strokes, she wrestled with the memories that clung to her like smoke. That fleeting flicker in Andrew’s eyes when she confronted him—when he should have shown remorse but chose to shut down instead.

After an hour, she emerged from her room fully dressed—sleek black blouse, dark jeans, boots clicking against the marble with purpose. Hair pulled back, sunglasses in hand.

She descended the grand staircase like a woman on a mission, ignoring the hollow echo of her footsteps in the expansive mansion. The Luthor estate was as quiet as a grave.

Reaching the dining room, the pristine table caught her eye. Silver gleamed beneath the chandelier, untouched plates of food artfully arranged—a glossy spread that had become a daily expectation.

Andrew’s chair at the head of the table?

Empty.

Figures.

“Good morning, ma’am,” a soft voice broke the silence.

She turned to see a maid, head bowed. “Master Luthor left early. No message.”

Of course he did.

“Thanks.” Her response was curt, dismissive.

“I’ll be skipping breakfast. I have somewhere to be.”

Before the maid could respond, Sarah was moving again, her pace intentionally brisk, expression controlled.

No admiration for the elegant paintings or the fresh-cut orchids today. No hesitation at the massive front door.

Just out.

Sunlight hit her like a slap, sharp and unyielding. Sunglasses slipped on automatically, shielding her from judgment and truth.

She climbed into the back seat of the sleek black Luthor town car parked out front. The driver straightened.

“Where to, ma’am?”

She hesitated. If she said hospital, Andrew would find out. He always did.

“Downtown.” The words spilled out. “I’ll give you the address on the way.”

The driver nodded, tires crunching against gravel like a ticking clock as they pulled away.

Heart racing, Sarah settled back.

Can’t let him know. Not yet.

If she were pregnant—and she still refused to accept it—Andrew would twist it to suit his needs. Manipulation. A trap.

I need proof. No more speculation.

But the weight in her chest insisted otherwise. Change was coming.

She stared out at the bustling city, tall glass towers piercing the sky, people moving with purpose, horns blaring in the chaotic morning rush. Beneath it all, her life was fracturing.

Pressing a hand to her stomach, subtle as a whisper, she silently begged the universe.

Please let this be nothing.

But deep down, she sensed it wasn’t.

Today, everything might change.

… …

HOSPITAL:

The waiting room was stifling—too quiet, too white, too sterile. Sarah sat on the edge of her chair, leg bouncing like a jackhammer, fingers twisted white with tension. Her heart thumped wildly, drowning out the muffled sounds around her.

What if I’m wrong? What if I’m not? What if—

“Mrs. Luthor?” A nurse appeared, clipboard in hand. “The doctor will see you now.”

Nodding, Sarah stood, legs feeling shaky as if disconnected from her body. She trailed the nurse down the hallway, each step heavy with dread.

Inside the office, the doctor gestured to a chair. “Please, sit,” he said, his smile professional yet warm.

“Just tell me,” Sarah cut in, anxiety spilling over. “The test result…”

“Congratulations, Mrs. Luthor. You’re pregnant.”

His words slammed into her like a tidal wave—both a punch and a blessing. She stared at the printout, the stark black-and-white proof of her new reality: Pregnant.

Her attempt at a smile faltered as a flood of emotions cascaded through her—joy, panic, confusion, dread.

Andrew.

What would he say? Would he believe her? Would he accuse her of manipulation?

“Are you alright?” the doctor asked, concern creeping into his tone.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, forcing the corners of her mouth upward.

“Take care of yourself,” he instructed, handing her a prescription. “Prenatal vitamins—no stress. Doctor’s orders.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled, heart racing as she pocketed the paper.

As she left, the burden of a colossal secret weighed down on her.

How do I tell him? Should I even?

The bustling hospital faded into a blur. The world spun in chaos while she wrestled with her thoughts.

Then her phone buzzed—once, twice, thrice.

She dug through her bag with shaky hands and pulled it out.

Mai.

Her best friend. Her only true confidante in a world that had flipped upside down.

"Mai?" she answered, her voice softer than usual.

“Sarah! Where have you been? You just up and disappeared, and suddenly—bam! Married to Andrew Luthor?” Mai’s voice crackled with excitement.

“I know—I didn’t even know how to explain it,” Sarah replied, the weight of it all crashing down.

“You owe me a tea session, start,” Mai said. “I want the full scoop.”

“I’ll come over today. I need to talk,” Sarah promised.

“Cool. I’ll be waiting,” came Mai’s reply before the call ended.

Exhaling, Sarah stepped toward the exit, only for her foot to catch. The world tilted.

Heart racing, she braced for the cold tile—only to be caught by strong arms.

“Whoa, easy!” a stranger said, concern etched in his features.

“Thanks,” Sarah murmured, blinking up at him. He was tall, sharply dressed, and worry crossed his brow.

“Gotta watch your step. Places like this can be intimidating enough,” he said lightly before walking away, melting into the crowd.

She took a moment to regain her balance, brushing dust from her clothes, then stepped outside. The sunlight blinded her. The city buzzed—horns honked, people shouted, life surged with frenetic energy.

But the chaos felt distant. Caught in a whirlwind of her own thoughts, she waved down a taxi.

Just a few feet away, behind the tinted glass of a car, a camera clicked.

Someone had seen the scene that unfolded between her and the stranger.

And now, someone had a picture of her caught in a vulnerable moment.

A storm was brewing.

And Sarah had no idea just how close it was.