CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Charlotte walked into the guest room with a tray of warm tea, but the sight that met her eyes made her hands go numb. The porcelain cup slipped and shattered against the marble floor.

"Lauren!" she gasped, rushing forward. Lauren lay unconscious on the floor beside the bed, her face pale, her body limp.

No response.

Her breath caught. She checked for a pulse. It was faint—but there.

“Emma!” she called sharply. “Get me the landline. Now!”

Minutes later, the Whitmore estate’s private physician, Dr. Harris, arrived—sharp in his charcoal coat, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and his medical bag in hand.

He was slightly older than Ethan, composed and professional, though the sight of an unconscious Lauren raised one of his brows. He had treated Ethan, his sisters, Taylor and Viola and Raymond Whitmore many times—but this was his first time meeting the woman everyone had been whispering about.

Charlotte met him at the doorway.

“She fainted,” she said quickly. “I found her on the floor ten minutes ago. No sign of injury. She’s breathing—but weak.”

“I’ll need space,” Dr. Harris said gently. “And quiet.”

Charlotte nodded, then turned to the maids who had gathered with worried faces outside the door—Madison, Edna, and Emma.

“Madison,” Charlotte said with that polite but commanding voice she mastered so well, “go downstairs and brew a fresh batch of chamomile and lemon balm. Edna, help her. Emma, go check the spare linen cabinets. I want this room freshened up before sundown.”

The girls hesitated. Charlotte smiled gently.

“That will be all.”

They scattered.

Dr. Harris stepped closer to the bed, where Lauren had been gently moved. Her eyes were fluttering now, breathing soft and shallow. He took her wrist and checked her pulse, then examined her pupils, his movements quiet and precise.

“She’s under intense stress,”

Charlotte hovered quietly by the wardrobe. “I suspected as much.”

He pulled out a small test kit and gave Charlotte a questioning glance. “I’d like to confirm something. Has she… been nauseous? Or unusually tired?”

Charlotte didn’t answer directly. She just gave him a knowing look.

He stepped into the ensuite, collected the necessary sample, and returned moments later.

There was a pause.

Then a quiet exhale.

“She’s pregnant,” he said in a low voice.

Charlotte closed her eyes for a beat and crossed herself silently. “Er...yes she is".

Dr. Harris frowned. “She doesn’t know?”

“She suspects...” Charlotte murmured. “But she’s not ready to say it aloud.”

“She needs care,” the doctor said, voice firmer now. “Stable meals. Sleep. No more emotional pressure—not now. This kind of collapse could be dangerous in the first trimester.”

Charlotte nodded solemnly. “Leave her with me. I’ll protect her.”

Dr. Harris packed up his kit and headed toward the door—but just as he reached for the knob, it turned from the other side.

Ethan stepped in.

He stopped short when he saw the doctor.

His brows furrowed. “What happened?”

Dr. Harris glanced at Charlotte, unsure what to say.

“She fainted,” Charlotte said evenly, stepping in. “Just exhaustion. She’ll be alright with some rest.”

Ethan looked past them to where Lauren lay still, sleeping.

He rushed in, breathless, and dropped to his knees beside her on the cushion. “What happened to Lauren? Charlotte! Why didn’t you call me?” he barked, panic all over his face.

Charlotte bowed slightly, avoiding his eyes. “I’ll give you both some space,” she said softly, then turned and walked away.

Ethan pulled Lauren gently into his arms. Her body was warm, but weak. His heart raced.

Suddenly, with what little strength she had, she slapped him across the cheek. “Do I look like someone you can just play with?” she snapped, her voice shaky with pain.

He blinked, stunned. “Lauren? What are you talking about?”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “My best friend was in Beverly Hills for three whole years and I didn’t even know?”

His mouth fell open. “How... how did you know that?”

“You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?” Her voice cracked. “Why did you even come back for me?”

His eyes widened. “Lauren, no. Why would you think that?”

She didn’t answer—just cried harder. “I saw you with her.”

“Did you see me touch her? Kiss her?” he asked gently, trying to understand.

“I don’t care!” she sobbed. “Men are all the same—cheaters! Liars!”

Ethan’s heart sank. He could feel it—there was something deeper going on. Something she wasn’t saying.

He slowly pulled her into his chest. “Lauren... what happened?”

She couldn’t speak. Her chest rose and fell heavily. Caleb had moved on. He had found someone else. Everything she had built her life around was crumbling. She felt stuck—trapped between two men, one unborn child, and too many secrets.

She closed her eyes. Maybe I should just leave… go to China with Granny Rosa... pretend none of this ever happened.

“Go away,” she whispered brokenly. “I want to be alone.”

He hesitated, then nodded and rose quietly, heading upstairs without another word.

She stayed there on the cushion, her body aching, her heart in pieces.

***

He wasn’t asleep when she walked in at exactly 2:03 a.m.

Ethan was lying down in deep thought, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, but the moment he heard the soft creak of the door, he sat up slowly on the bed.

“Did you eat?” he asked gently.

Lauren didn’t respond. Her face was unreadable. She walked over and sat at the edge of the bed—still angry, still bruised by the truth.

He exhaled slowly. “Everything I didn’t tell you... it was to protect you, Lauren. Nothing more.”

Tears slid down her cheeks as she stared ahead. “You love Amy?”

His brow furrowed. “What on earth are you talking about, Lauren?”

She turned her face toward him, her voice trembling. “Once you’re ready to divorce me so she can come in... tell me on time.”

He rubbed his hands together slowly, then looked at her. “I told Amy not to contact you because... I didn’t want you to find out I was alive.”

Lauren froze. Her head whipped toward him. “You… you didn’t lose your memory?”

His silence said it all.

Tears broke from her eyes again—hot, angry, broken tears. “Aaaaaaaargh!” She clutched her chest. “You pulled me into this mess! Ethan, I hate you so much!” Her voice cracked, raw with emotion. “How could you do this to me?!”

“I was trying to protect you!” he said, his voice finally rising. “They were after my life, Lauren. Do you think I didn’t want to run to you?”

She stood abruptly, staggered to the wardrobe, and yanked her suitcase out with shaky hands.

“Lauren, stop—please…”

She turned and slapped him. The sound echoed through the room like a gunshot.

“Do you know what it means to mourn someone you love so much?” she screamed, her voice breaking with grief. “It was so hard, Ethan! I couldn’t breathe! I cried for months! At least you could’ve sent a note… a sign… something! I swear I would’ve waited for you! I would’ve waited for you!”

He blinked fast, tears burning in his eyes.

“You messed me up!” she sobbed. “You ruined my life. Why are you back now? Why?! It’s too late, Ethan. It’s too late. So much has changed… too much has happened...”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely able to speak. “Lauren, I’m deeply sorry…”

She looked around, her chest rising and falling heavily. “Give me a separate room. I can’t stay here.”

He nodded quietly. “I’ll go. Please stay in this room, Lauren. I’ll take the other one.”

Without another word, he grabbed a throw blanket and walked out.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Lauren collapsed onto the bed, her sobs muffled in the pillow.

Everything was too heavy to carry.

Too painful to face.

***

The smell of cinnamon stirred Lauren awake.

Her eyes fluttered open, registering the morning light spilling softly through the drawn curtains.

The ache in her limbs reminded her of where she was—still on the floor beside the couch where she'd broken down the night before. Her body felt sore, her throat dry from crying.

She blinked, and that was when she noticed the tray near her. A small bowl of warm oatmeal laced with banana slices and almond flakes.

Beside it sat a glass of fresh juice, a boiled egg, and a folded white napkin.

Charlotte stood by the window, clipboard in hand, her posture as composed as always.

“I added cinnamon,” she said without looking back. “Your body will need it in the coming weeks.”

Lauren sat up slowly, a blanket slipping off her shoulders—one she hadn’t remembered pulling over herself. “You… came in?”

“Yes. You fell asleep on the floor last night. I checked on you after your argument with Ethan,” Charlotte said, turning to face her. Her tone remained precise, measured. “I placed you in a more comfortable position and left after ensuring you were stable. You hadn’t eaten anything.”

Lauren glanced at the tray again, touched by the quiet care hidden beneath Charlotte’s efficiency.

Charlotte walked over and set the clipboard on the table. “I only returned this morning to make sure you got something nutritious into your system. Your body is not just yours you know right?”

There was a pause. Then Lauren’s voice cracked. “You… seem to know Ethan well. Did he—did he tell you anything about last night? What happened between us?”

“No. He didn’t need to.” Charlotte lifted the tray gently and placed it closer. “He tells me everything with his tears".

Lauren’s brows drew together.

“He cried,” Charlotte said plainly. “Every day after he was declared dead. Asking to see you. Even when his voice was too weak. He sustained injuries from the fire accident. He had to recover properly. I and Amy were the only ones that knew he didn't loose his memory. That was when we weren’t even sure he’d live.”

Lauren swallowed hard.

A silence passed before she spoke again, hesitantly. “Do you know Amy?”

Charlotte’s gaze didn’t falter. “Yes. Amy came to Beverly Hills about five months after Ethan was declared dead. She claimed she was here to meet a client, but I knew something was off.”

“She’s a lawyer,” Lauren said slowly.

“She was also working undercover for Raymond Whitmore,” Charlotte replied, her tone now sharpened with meaning. “She wasn’t here for a client. She was here because she has been working on a project with Ethan before the accident .”

Lauren’s breath caught.

***

When Lauren woke the next morning, waves of nausea hit her hard. She couldn’t even bring herself to sit up. Morning sickness had returned with a vengeance.

Ethan came in carrying hot dogs and coffee. The moment the smell reached her, Lauren rushed to the bathroom to throw up.

When she returned, Ethan watched her with concern. “You’re getting pickier with food these days. Besides, Charlotte doesn’t feed you like she feeds me. She...”

Before he could finish, Charlotte entered with a tray in her hands.

On it were dry bread and a cup of peppermint tea.

Ethan gave a grimace and shot a suspicious glance at Charlotte and Lauren. “Are you two hiding something from me?”

Charlotte kept her calm, professional expression, ignoring his suspicion. She helped Lauren sit up and gently fed her the bread and tea.

Gradually, Lauren felt herself steady and smiled gratefully at Charlotte.

Ethan sighed, still worried. “What did Dr. Harris say? Nobody’s given me a proper report about your collapse.”

Charlotte sighed as she fed Lauren. “Shock. From everything she’s been through.”

Ethan nodded slowly. “Stress from your fashion business, and the mess between me and Amy... I get it.”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why you’re even talking to me. I’m still mad, so please just leave.”

He sighed, his voice heavy. “I just wanted to see if you’re okay.” He got up, still holding the tray. “We’ll talk later.” Then he left the room.

Charlotte watched Lauren carefully. “You have every right to be angry, Lauren. I understand.”

Tears welled up in Lauren’s eyes, surprised by Charlotte’s kindness. She sobbed quietly as Charlotte pulled her into a comforting embrace.

***

Later that evening, Lauren decided she needed answers — from Caleb Monroe himself.

She drove to his mansion, heart pounding. Just as she stepped out of the car, a tall woman appeared on the porch.

Lauren froze.

The woman knocked, and Caleb glanced nervously around before pulling her inside.

Lauren’s breath caught.

It was the blonde woman from the picture Madeline had sent.

Tears filled Lauren’s eyes. She’d hoped it was just a fling or a mistake.

But now, seeing the woman again, she knew it wasn’t.

She walked up to the porch and knocked.

After a moment, one of Caleb’s maids opened the door.

Lauren recognized her immediately — Belinda.

Without hesitation, Lauren pushed past Belinda and stormed toward Caleb’s room.

There, Caleb lay in bed with the blonde woman, making love as if his life depended on it.