Chapter 6

The silence stretched between them like a tightrope.

Dylan’s jaw tightened as he watched her stand there, polite and professional, not a flicker of recognition in those warm brown eyes. The same eyes that had been filled with tears six weeks ago. The same eyes that had looked at him with desperate need before she’d whispered another man’s name.

And now she looked at him like a stranger.

“Mr. Frost?” Isla shifted slightly, unnerved by his intense stare. “Is everything alright?”

He blinked, forcing himself back to the present. “Fine.” His voice came out rougher than intended. He cleared his throat and moved behind his desk, putting distance between them. “Evelyn should have briefed you on your duties.”

“She did.” Isla clutched her tablet against her chest. “I’m to manage your schedule, handle correspondence, screen calls, and prepare materials for meetings. I’ve already organized your calendar for the next two weeks and flagged the urgent items that need your attention.”

“Good.” He pulled up his computer screen, though he wasn’t actually reading anything. “I expect punctuality, discretion, and attention to detail. I don’t tolerate mistakes.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Working hours are eight to eight, but there will be times I need you to stay late for urgent matters.”

Something flickered across her face, so brief he almost missed it. “About that…” She straightened her shoulders. “I can absolutely commit to eight AM to eight PM, Monday through Friday. But I’m afraid I can’t stay past closing time. I have… personal obligations.”

Dylan’s eyes snapped up. “Personal obligations?”

“Yes, sir.” Her voice remained steady, but her fingers tightened around the tablet. “I understand if that’s an issue, but those are my terms.”

“Terms? She was setting boundaries with me? On her first day?” Dylan thought.

Any other employee would have been shown the door immediately. Dylan Frost didn’t negotiate with his staff. But this wasn’t any other employee, and the slight tremor in her voice told him this wasn’t about being difficult, it was about survival, maybe.

“I see.” He leaned back in his chair, studying her. “And these personal obligations… do they involve another job? A second employer I should know about?”

Pink colored her cheeks. “They are personal matters I need to attend to, sir. I'd appreciate it if you stop asking further questions as they aren't related to my work and won't in any way affect it.”

A man, Dylan thought, his gut twisting unexpectedly. She’s seeing someone.

The idea bothered him more than it should have. More than it had any right to.

“Fine,” he said curtly. “Eight to eight. Not a minute less, Miss Brown. But don’t expect special treatment during work hours.”

Relief softened her features. “Thank you, Mr. Frost. I promise my work will speak for itself.”

“It better.” He turned back to his screen dismissively. “You can go. I’ll call if I need anything.”

She nodded and turned to leave, but paused at the door. “Sir? One more thing.”

“What?”

“The coffee you’ve been drinking this morning, it’s cold. Would you like me to get you a fresh cup?”

He glanced down at the mug he’d forgotten about, steam long since dissipated. Such a small observation. But it reminded him of that night, the way she’d noticed everything even through her haze of pain and alcohol.

I just want to stop hurting, she’d whispered.

“No need,” he said, his voice softening despite himself. “But thank you for noticing.”

She let out a smile that transformed her entire face and left.

Dylan sat frozen long after the door closed.

“She doesn’t remember me?”

The thought repeated like a mantra. Part of him was relieved. If she didn’t remember, he wouldn’t have to explain. Wouldn’t have to see the horror in her eyes when she realized her boss was the stranger she’d slept with while calling out another man’s name.

But another part of him, the part he kept carefully locked away felt something uncomfortably close to disappointment.

The next two weeks fell into a rhythm.

Isla arrived at exactly 7:55 AM every morning, already prepared with his schedule and black coffee with no sugar, just the way he liked it. She anticipated his needs before he voiced them, organized his chaos into structure, and handled demanding clients with grace.

She was perfect at her job.

But at exactly 8:00 PM, she was gone.

No lingering, no small talk, no attempts to ingratiate herself like so many before her. The moment the clock struck eight, she gathered her things, offered a polite “good night,” and disappeared.

It drove him insane.

“Where does she go every night?” Dylan asked his driver, Marcus, on a Friday evening.

Marcus shifted uncomfortably. “Sir?”

“Miss Brown. She leaves at eight sharp every single day. I want to know where she goes.”

“With all due respect, sir, that feels like…”

“I’m not asking you to spy on her personal life,” Dylan interrupted, though that was exactly what he was asking. “I need to ensure my secretary isn’t involved in anything that could compromise the company. Following her for a few days is just… due diligence.”

Marcus looked skeptical but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Dylan told himself it was about security. About protecting his business. It had nothing to do with the way his chest tightened every time she smiled at someone else, or the way his hand had accidentally brushed hers when she’d handed him documents yesterday, or the way he’d caught himself watching her through his office windows as she worked at her desk.

It was just due diligence and nothing more.

Three days later, Marcus returned with his report.

“Well?” Dylan demanded, trying to sound casual.

“She goes to the hospital, sir.” Marcus pulled out his phone, showing photos taken from a distance. “Mercy General Medical Center. Every evening at 8:15 PM. She stays for about thirty minutes, then goes home.”

Dylan’s blood ran cold. “The hospital?”

“Yes, sir. Same routine every night.”

His mind raced. The hospital. Every night. For thirty minutes.

Was she sick? Was a loved one dying? Was that why she’d been so insistent about leaving on time?

“Did you see who she was visiting?” Dylan’s voice came out strangled.

“No, sir. She goes in through the main entrance and I couldn’t follow without being noticed.”

Dylan stood abruptly. “Tonight. I want you to take me there.”

“Sir?”

“Eight PM. Have the car ready.”

Marcus hesitated. “Are you sure that’s…”

“Just do it.” Dylan turned away, his hands clenched into fists.

The rest of the day crawled by in agonizing slowness.

He watched the clock like a man possessed. Watched Isla work through his glass walls, efficient and composed as always. She had no idea he knew. No idea he was about to follow her.

At 7:55 PM, she began packing her things as usual. Dylan pretended to be absorbed in paperwork, but his entire body was coiled with tension.

“Good night, Mr. Frost,” she said softly from his doorway.

He looked up. She stood silhouetted against the office lights, one hand resting briefly against her stomach, a gesture so quick and unconscious he almost missed it.

His heart stopped.

“Good night, Miss Brown.”

She left.

Dylan counted to sixty, then grabbed his jacket and headed for the elevator.

Marcus was waiting in the underground garage, engine running.

“Follow the taxi,” Dylan ordered as he slid into the back seat. “But keep your distance.”

They trailed the silver sedan through evening traffic, staying far enough back to remain unnoticed. True to Marcus’s report, the car headed straight for Mercy General.

Dylan watched as the car parked, she got off, paid the driver and walked toward the entrance, her shoulders slightly hunched as if carrying an invisible weight.

“Park here,” he told Marcus.

“Sir, maybe you should…”

But Dylan was already out of the car, pulling his collar up and keeping to the shadows as he followed her inside.

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and anxiety. Isla moved through the corridors with practiced familiarity, nodding at a few nurses who seemed to recognize her. Dylan stayed far back, his heart pounding harder with each step.

She took the elevator to the fourth floor. Dylan caught the stairs, taking them two at a time.

When he emerged, slightly breathless, he saw her disappearing into a door marked: OBSTETRICS & GYNECOLOGY - Dr. Sarah Chen

The world tilted.

Obstetrics?

Dylan’s legs moved of their own accord, carrying him closer to the door. It was slightly ajar, and voices drifted out.

“…doing much better this week,” a woman’s voice said warmly. Dr. Chen, presumably. “The nausea is normal, but if it gets worse, we can adjust your medication.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Isla’s voice, soft and tired. “And the… condition?”

“We’re monitoring it closely. The uterine wall is thin, but as long as you avoid stress and follow the treatment plan, you and the baby should be fine.”

Baby?

Dylan’s hand shot out, gripping the wall for support. Was she pregnant?

“I just want to make sure…” Isla’s voice wavered. “If something goes wrong, if I have to choose…”

“Let’s not think about that right now,” Dr. Chen interrupted gently. “You’re at eight weeks. Everything looks good. But I meant what I said before, termination would be extremely risky given your condition. Near-certain infertility, and possibly life-threatening complications.”

Eight weeks?

Dylan did the math in his head with crystal clarity.

Eight weeks ago, was the night a broken woman had stumbled into his arms at a bar. One thing led to another and a condom had torn, only for him to wake up to an empty bed.

That action got Isla pregnant?

“I would never…” Isla’s voice broke. “This baby is all I have. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe.”

“Good.” The sound of papers rustling. “I’ll see you next week. And Isla? Please consider telling the father. You shouldn’t go through this alone.”

A long silence.

“There’s no father to tell,” Isla finally said, so quietly Dylan almost missed it. “He was just… a mistake. A beautiful mistake I don’t even remember clearly.”