Chapter 2: The Man Who Still Watches

Lewis Anderson did not believe in coincidences.

He sat in the back seat of his car as the city lights blurred past the tinted windows, one elbow braced against the armrest, fingers pressed lightly against his lips. The gala should have been forgettable another obligation, another donation, another room full of people eager to be seen near his name.

Yet Elizabeth had walked back into his life as if she’d never left it.

Five years.

Five years of silence, lawyers, board meetings, and sleepless nights that never quite ended. Five years of convincing himself that the marriage had failed because it had to because trusting her had been a mistake.

And then he saw her.

Still elegant. Still restrained. Still carrying herself like someone who refused to beg for space in the world.

She looked thinner. Stronger. Untouchable.

That unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

“Follow the black sedan,” Lewis said calmly.

The driver glanced at him in the mirror. “Sir?”

“The one Elizabeth got into.”

There was a pause brief, professional.

“Yes, sir.”

Lewis leaned back as the car adjusted course, his gaze fixed ahead. He wasn’t stalking her, he told himself. He was confirming something. Closure. Curiosity. Whatever word made it easier to swallow.

He told himself a lot of lies where Elizabeth was concerned.

The black sedan turned into a quiet residential street, far removed from the glittering skyline and luxury towers Lewis inhabited. Modest. Private. Carefully chosen.

Interesting.

Lewis watched as Elizabeth stepped out of the car, thanked the driver, and disappeared into a small but tastefully maintained building.

He didn’t ask for the address.

He already had it.

Elizabeth didn’t sleep that night.

She lay curled on her side, staring at the faint glow of the city beyond her curtains, her thoughts racing faster than her heart could keep up with.

Lewis had called.

Not once.

Not twice.

Six times.

And she had ignored every single one.

Her phone lay face-down on the nightstand, as though looking at it would invite disaster. She knew Lewis well enough to understand what silence did to him.

It provoked him.

Her hand drifted unconsciously to her stomach again. She still couldn’t feel anything not physically but emotionally, it was overwhelming. Terrifying. Protective. Final.

A child.

His child.

“No,” she whispered into the darkness. “Mine.”

The word grounded her.

She had survived Lewis once. She could do it again.

This time, there was more at stake.

Lewis didn’t sleep either.

By morning, he had a full report.

“Elizabeth Anderson,” Caleb said, sliding the tablet across the desk. “Thirty-two. Senior editor at a mid-size publishing firm. No public scandals. No known relationships.”

Lewis scanned the information without really seeing it.

“No known relationships?” he repeated quietly.

Caleb nodded. “Nothing official. No social media hints either.”

Lewis’s jaw tightened.

She had always been private. Even during their marriage, she kept parts of herself guarded, protected. He had mistaken that for distance. For deception.

And now she was doing it again.

“Where does she live?” Lewis asked.

Caleb hesitated. “You already know.”

Lewis’s eyes flicked up sharply.

“You followed her last night,” Caleb said evenly. “Your driver logged the route.”

Lewis didn’t deny it.

“Has she been to any clinics?” he asked instead.

Caleb stiffened. “Clinics?”

Lewis met his gaze. “Medical. Hospitals. Anything out of the ordinary.”

Caleb exhaled slowly. “You think she’s sick.”

“I think,” Lewis said carefully, “that something about her last night didn’t add up.”

The nausea. The way she avoided champagne. The sudden pallor beneath flawless composure.

Caleb studied him for a long moment. “If you’re wrong”

“Then I apologize,” Lewis said coldly. “And move on.”

“And if you’re right?”

Lewis’s fingers curled slowly into his palm.

“Then she shouldn’t be facing it alone.”

Elizabeth sat across from her doctor with her hands folded tightly in her lap.

“The test was accurate,” Dr. Harris said gently, scrolling through her chart. “You’re approximately six weeks along.”

Elizabeth nodded, her expression calm despite the storm inside her.

“Any complications?” she asked.

“None so far,” the doctor replied. “But you should avoid stress.”

Elizabeth almost laughed.

“I’ll try,” she said softly.

Dr. Harris hesitated. “Is the father involved?”

Elizabeth’s throat tightened. “No.”

“Well,” the doctor said kindly, “you have support here. We’ll schedule regular checkups.”

Elizabeth thanked her, scheduling the next appointment before leaving the clinic through the side exit quiet, discreet, exactly how she needed it.

She didn’t see the black car parked across the street.

Lewis watched her emerge from the medical building, his spine straightening, every instinct sharpening at once.

Clinic.

Doctor.

Not sick.

Pregnant.

The realization hit him with staggering force.

His breath caught not in disbelief, but in understanding.

That night.

That one reckless, unforgettable night.

Lewis closed his eyes briefly, steadying himself.

“No,” he muttered.

But the truth didn’t disappear.

Elizabeth climbed into a cab and disappeared down the street.

Lewis didn’t follow this time.

He didn’t need to.

Elizabeth sensed the shift before she understood it.

The air felt heavier when she stepped into her apartment. Quieter. As if something had changed while she was gone.

She locked the door behind her, exhaling slowly.

Then her phone rang.

She froze.

Lewis Anderson.

This time, she answered.

“What?” she said, her voice sharper than intended.

“You went to a clinic,” Lewis said without preamble.

Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.

“That’s none of your business.”

A pause.

“Are you pregnant?” he asked.

Silence roared in her ears.

“No,” she lied.

Lewis exhaled slowly. “Elizabeth”

“I said no.”

“You’re lying.”

She closed her eyes. “You don’t get to interrogate me.”

“I get to ask,” he said quietly. “Because I know you. And because something happened between us.”

“That was a mistake,” she snapped.

“Yes,” he agreed. “One I don’t regret.”

Her breath hitched.

“Stop,” she whispered.

“I can’t,” Lewis said. “Not when you’re pulling away like this.”

She pressed her back against the wall, tears threatening to spill. “You already let me go once.”

Lewis’s voice softened dangerously so.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

The line went dead.

Elizabeth slid down the wall, her chest aching as she cradled her stomach.

“He knows,” she whispered.

Or he would.

And when Lewis Anderson decided something belonged to him, he never stopped until it was in his grasp.

Including her.

Including the secret baby growing quietly between them.