Chapter 4 False Alarms

Jane : POV

The irony was so thick I could choke on it. I stared at him in disbelief. After a year of him cheating on me, he had the nerve to accuse me?

I was about to tell him I wasn't pregnant—how could I be when he never touched me?—when a sudden, reckless idea formed in my mind.

"What if I am?" I said softly, watching his face.

Lucas's expression darkened dangerously, his complexion turning ashen. For a moment, I thought he might hit me.

"You little whore," he whispered. "You think you can cuckold me? Make me raise another man's bastard? I'll destroy you before I let that happen."

Outside the door, Isabella knocked softly. "Is everything alright in there? If Jane is pregnant, we need to go to the hospital right away to confirm it. This is such wonderful news!"

Lucas's fingers dug into my arm as he leaned close, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper.

"You better not be pregnant. Because if you are, I'll make you wish you were never born." His eyes narrowed to slits. "Remember, your father and brother are still under my thumb."

The threat hung in the air between us, heavy and suffocating.

I held his gaze, refusing to show fear despite the chill that ran down my spine.

Before I could respond, Isabella knocked again, her voice syrupy with excitement. "Lucas? Jane? Is everything alright in there?"

Lucas's expression shifted instantly, the practiced transformation of a seasoned actor.

He released my arm and yanked open the bathroom door, his face now arranged in a perfect mask of concern.

"Isabella," he said smoothly, pulling me into the hallway. "This is such important news, we should definitely take Jane to the hospital for a proper check-up."

‘Honestly, I didn't want to go, but given the circumstances, I felt like I was between a rock and a hard place and had no choice but to agree.’

As Lucas guided me toward the door, Isabella beamed with delight, presumably already contemplating how to share this delightful news with her dear confidantes.

The sleek black Bentley glided through Manhattan traffic, Lucas at the wheel while Isabella and I sat in the back.

I stared out the window at the passing cityscape, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety in my stomach. This fake pregnancy charade was spiraling out of control.

"Jane, darling," Isabella leaned closer, her designer perfume overwhelming in the confined space. "Besides the nausea, what other symptoms have you been experiencing?"

I kept my eyes fixed on the window. "I haven't really noticed anything else."

"Are you feeling unusually tired? Sleepy all the time?" she pressed, undeterred by my obvious reluctance to engage.

"Not particularly."

"Have your taste preferences changed at all?" Isabella continued, practically vibrating with excitement. "When I was pregnant with Lucas, I suddenly couldn't get enough spicy food. And I was constantly exhausted."

I forced myself to look at her, summoning what I hoped was a convincing smile. "I feel pretty normal in those areas, Isabella."

She frowned, clearly disappointed by my lack of pregnancy drama. "That's strange. Those are common early symptoms."

She tapped her manicured finger against her chin thoughtfully. "Do you sometimes feel lightheaded? Lethargic? Lacking energy?"

Fuck. She wasn't going to let this go. I needed to throw her a bone.

"Well, maybe a little," I lied.

Isabella's face lit up like a Christmas tree. She turned toward the front seat, addressing her son. "Lucas, if Jane is pregnant, you need to be nicer to her. No more of this... difficult behavior."

I caught Lucas's eyes in the rearview mirror, a flash of something sinister crossing his features before being quickly masked with affection.

"Of course, Mother," he said, his lips curving into what anyone else would interpret as a loving smile. "I'll take excellent care of her."

I suppressed a shudder, wrapping my arms around myself.

'God, I was an idiot. How did I not see through him when we were dating?* I'd been so blinded by his charm, his persistent pursuit, the fantasy he'd spun of our life together. Now all I wanted was to escape this nightmare and never look back.'

My gaze drifted back to the passing buildings, and suddenly Ethan's face flashed in my mind. There was something about him that nagged at me, something familiar I couldn't quite place.

'I must have met Ethan before I got married. But why can't I remember him clearly? A man like that—those intense eyes, that quiet confidence—should have made an impression. Those eyes especially... I've seen them somewhere before.'

The memory danced at the edges of my consciousness, frustratingly out of reach.

We soon arrived at a hospital near our penthouse.

As we waited in the private section of the OB-GYN department, Lucas leaned close to me one more time, his breath hot against my ear.

"You better not be pregnant," he whispered, the words slicing through the air between us.

I didn't respond, just kept my eyes forward, counting the seconds until I could speak to a doctor alone.

When my name was finally called, I practically leapt to my feet, desperate to escape the suffocating presence of both Shaws.

The female doctor who greeted me had kind eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor—exactly what I needed right now.

Once the door closed behind us, I didn't waste any time.

"I'm not pregnant," I blurted out. "I lied to them. Well, I didn't exactly lie—they jumped to conclusions when I felt nauseous. But I know my own body. My period came right on schedule last week. There's no need for any tests."

The doctor—Dr. Wilson according to her name tag—raised an eyebrow, but her expression remained professionally neutral.

"I see," she said carefully. "So you'd like me to help conceal that you're not pregnant?"

I shook my head quickly. "No, not at all. Just tell them the truth. I'm not expecting."

Dr. Wilson studied me for a moment, her gaze assessing.

"Well, let's do a quick ultrasound anyway," she said finally. "It's simple and definitive. Then I can give them a clear answer based on medical evidence."

I nodded, relieved by her practical approach.

The procedure was quick and, as expected, confirmed what I already knew.

"As you said, you're not pregnant," Dr. Wilson concluded, helping me sit up. "Your nausea could be caused by a number of things. Have you been eating regularly today?"

"I haven't eaten anything since yesterday," I admitted. "And I think I might be coming down with something. I've been feeling a bit under the weather."

She nodded. "That would explain it. Are you under significant stress lately?"

I almost laughed at the understatement. "Yes. You could say that."

"Well, there's your answer," she said, making a note in my chart. "Stress, not eating properly, and possibly a mild bug. Take care of yourself, Mrs. Shaw. Your body needs proper nutrition and rest, especially during stressful times."

When we emerged from the examination room, Isabella rushed forward, her face eager and expectant.

"Well? Is Jane pregnant?" she demanded.

Dr. Wilson maintained her professional composure. "Mrs. Shaw is not pregnant. In fact, her current physical state makes this a poor time to consider conception. She's experiencing gastrointestinal distress due to stress and inadequate nutrition. She needs rest and proper care."

Isabella's face fell, her excitement deflating like a punctured balloon. "Oh. I see."

I avoided looking at Lucas, but I could feel the tension in his body ease slightly. Was that relief? Or disappointment that he'd lost another means to control me?

Outside the hospital, Isabella stood with us near the car, her initial disappointment apparently forgotten as a new idea took hold.

"You two should go on a vacation," she announced suddenly. "Jane clearly needs to relax and improve her condition. When you return, you can start trying for a baby properly."