CHAPTER 21: CHAPTER 21 PREGNANT

Ryan’s POV

I couldn’t breathe. My lungs felt frozen as I watched Serena’s body crumple at the bottom of the staircase, her hair splayed across the marble floor like spilled ink. Everything around me blurred into meaningless shapes—the restaurant, the gawking patrons, everything except her still form.

"SERENA!" My voice sounded foreign to my own ears as I lunged forward, taking the stairs two at a time.

But Julian was already there, kneeling beside her, his fingers pressed against her neck. "She’s breathing," he announced, his voice tight with controlled panic. "Call an ambulance, now!"

Someone—a waiter maybe—was already on the phone, rattling off the restaurant’s address.

"Don’t move her," I ordered, crouching down beside them, my hand hovering over her pale face. "She could have spinal injuries." The words tasted like acid in my mouth.

Serena lay unconscious, a thin trickle of blood running from somewhere beneath her head. Her skin had taken on an ashen quality that made my stomach twist into knots. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

"This is your fault," Julian hissed at me, his eyes blazing. "You and that psychotic woman."

I couldn’t even argue with him. He was right.

Ivy’s heels clacked against the stairs as she descended, her face a strange mix of shock and something else—something that made my blood boil.

"Ryan," she sobbed, reaching for me. "I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt!"

I stepped away from her touch. "What did you think would happen when you pushed her? She was standing at the top of a staircase!"

"She was insulting me! You heard her!" Ivy grabbed at my sleeve desperately. "She called me pathetic! She—"

"Ivy, enough." My voice was firm but controlled. I needed to focus on Serena, not this ridiculous drama.

Julian had already gathered Serena in his arms, cradling her with a tenderness that made something dark twist in my chest. He was lifting her up while I stood here arguing.

"Where are you taking her?" I demanded, moving toward them.

"Hospital. We can’t wait for the ambulance," Julian replied curtly, already carrying Serena toward the exit.

I watched helplessly as another man carried away my ex-wife’s unconscious body.

My legs moved before I could think—I had to go after her.

But Ivy’s hand shot out, clutching my sleeve in a panic."Ryan!"

Tears streaming down her perfectly made-up face. "Don’t leave me here alone! Everyone’s staring!"

"Ivy, Serena is seriously injured. Your reputation isn’t my priority right now."

Her expression changed instantly, calculation replacing distress. "Sophie would be so disappointed in you," she whispered. "If she could see how you’re treating me after her death... her own sister."

I froze at the mention of Sophie’s name. That old ache bloomed in my chest—duller than it once was, but still sharp enough to sting.

"She always told me you’d take care of me," Ivy went on, her voice softening into something almost pitiful. "That you’d protect me if anything ever happened to her. What would she think, seeing you abandon me when I need you?"

I rubbed my forehead, the pressure behind my eyes growing heavier. For a split second, Sophie’s face flashed in my mind, pulling at that part of me that still felt bound to her memory.

But then I saw Serena again—in my mind—falling backward down those stairs.

My jaw tightened. "Ivy," I said, my voice low but edged with steel, "don’t twist this. I’m not abandoning you. But someone is in the hospital right now because of what you just did."

Her eyes widened. "It was an accident!" she said quickly, clutching my arm. "I wish Sophie was still here. She’d understand me."

I shook my head, my patience thinning. "If Sophie were here, she’d be ashamed of the scene you just caused. You think she’d want me cleaning up after something like this?"

Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

"This is the last time I’m cleaning up your mess, Ivy," I said, my tone flat and final. "Whatever excuse you come up with next time, don’t expect me to be there."

Her face paled, but I didn’t give her a chance to respond.

"Let’s go," I added curtly, already steering her toward the side exit. "Simon will handle the restaurant and whatever comes of this."

Once Ivy was dealt with, I was going back to Serena—whether she wanted to see me or not.

---

Serena’s POV

I was floating in darkness. Voices drifted around me—distant, distorted, like I was underwater. Something cold pressed against my forehead. Pain radiated from the back of my skull, throbbing in time with my heartbeat.

"Serena? Can you hear me?"

Julian’s voice. Worried. Close.

My eyelids felt impossibly heavy, but I forced them open anyway. Bright light stabbed my retinas, making me wince. Everything was blurry at first—just shapes and colors swimming together.

"She’s waking up," someone said.

As my vision cleared, I made out Julian’s concerned face hovering above me. Hospital. I was in a hospital room. The antiseptic smell hit me next, that unmistakable clinical scent that always made my stomach turn.

"What happened?" My voice came out as a rasp.

Julian reached for a cup of water with a straw, helping me take small sips. "You fell down the stairs. That psychotic woman pushed you."

The memory crashed back—Ivy’s furious face, the sickening feeling of falling backward, Ryan’s horrified expression as I tumbled down. Ryan...

"Where’s—" I stopped myself. Why was I asking about him? He wasn’t my concern anymore.

"The doctors say you have a concussion," Julian continued, his eyes never leaving my face. "You’ve been unconscious for about three hours."

I tried to sit up but immediately regretted it. The room spun violently, and nausea surged through me.

"Easy," Julian warned, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Don’t try to move too quickly."

"I feel sick," I mumbled, closing my eyes against the spinning room.

A doctor walked in—middle-aged with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper hair. He introduced himself as Dr. Chen, asking me basic questions while shining a penlight in my eyes.

"You’re experiencing a moderate concussion, Mrs. Blackwood."

"Ms. Quinn," I corrected automatically. The divorce might be fresh, but I’d shed that name like an old skin.

"My apologies, Ms. Quinn. You’ll need to take it easy for the next few weeks. No screens, limited reading, plenty of rest. You’re experiencing nausea?"

I nodded slightly, which was a mistake. Even that tiny movement sent pain shooting through my skull.

"That’s common with concussions, but I’d like to run a few additional tests to be thorough. Any other symptoms? Dizziness, blurred vision?"

"Both," I admitted. "And I feel like I might throw up any second."

Dr. Chen made some notes on his tablet. "I’m going to refer you to our neurologist for follow-up, but first I’d like to run some bloodwork just to be safe."

An hour later, after being poked and prodded and scanned, I was lying back in the hospital bed with Julian scrolling through his phone beside me when Dr. Chen returned with another doctor.

"Ms. Quinn, this is Dr. Rivera from our obstetrics department."

Obstetrics? Why would they...?

"Hello, Ms. Quinn," the female doctor said with a professional smile. "Your blood work showed elevated hCG levels, which prompted us to run additional tests."

My heart stuttered in my chest. No. No, this couldn’t be happening.

"You’re approximately six weeks pregnant."

The words hit me like another fall down the stairs. Pregnant? How could I be pregnant? Ryan and I had barely touched each other in the final months of our marriage.

Except...

That night.

He came home late from a company banquet, the faint scent of alcohol clinging to him.

His tie was loose, steps uneven, but when he looked at me, there was a softness I hadn’t seen in ages.

Without a word, I warmed some sobering soup and brought it to him.

Our fingers brushed briefly as I set the bowl down—and in that moment, he actually looked at me—really looked at me—for the first time in what felt like forever.

We’d fallen into bed like we used to, before everything went cold. I’d foolishly thought maybe, just maybe, things were changing.

What a fucking joke that turned out to be.

"I need to terminate," I heard myself saying, my voice oddly calm despite the tornado in my head. "I’m divorced. I can’t—I won’t have this baby."

Dr. Rivera’s expression remained neutral. "I understand this must be shocking news. However, given your concussion, we can’t perform any procedure immediately. And there’s something else you should know."

She explained that my bloodwork showed unusual hormone levels that could indicate a condition affecting my reproductive system.

"If you choose to terminate this pregnancy, there’s a significant chance you may not be able to conceive again. We’d need to run more comprehensive tests to confirm, but I wanted you to have all the information before making any decisions."

The room seemed to shrink around me. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. After everything—the loveless marriage, the betrayal, the divorce—this was the universe’s sick joke? A baby with the man who couldn’t even see me when I was standing right in front of him?

"I need some time," I whispered, turning my face toward the wall.

Julian’s hand found mine, squeezing gently. The doctors left with promises to check on me later, leaving me alone with this impossible weight on my chest.

"Whatever you decide," Julian said softly, "I’m here."

I gave him a faint smile, then gently pulled my hand away.

"Thank you," I murmured. "But I need a moment... alone."

For a second, he didn’t move. Then he nodded.

"I’ll be right outside," he said quietly.

I couldn’t answer him.

My mind was racing through scenarios, each more overwhelming than the last. A single mother. A child tied forever to Ryan.

Going through pregnancy alone. Never being able to have children if I chose differently.

A soft knock interrupted my spiraling thoughts.