Chapter 2 Rumors and Escape

The waiting room of Dr. Emily Carter's obstetrics practice was decorated in soothing blues and greens, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside my mind. Soft music played overhead as I filled out forms, checking boxes about family medical history that brought back painful memories of both my parents' deaths.

"Sophia Montgomery?" A nurse called my name, smiling warmly as she led me to an examination room.

Dr. Carter was younger than I expected, with kind eyes and a no-nonsense manner that immediately put me at ease. "First pregnancy?" she asked, reviewing my paperwork.

"Yes," I whispered, the word feeling monumental as it left my lips.

"Based on your last period, you're about seven weeks along," she explained after the examination. "Would you like to see the ultrasound?"

I nodded, unable to speak as she applied cold gel to my abdomen. The room filled with a rapid whooshing sound that made my breath catch.

"That's the heartbeat," Dr. Carter said, pointing to a tiny flickering light on the screen. "Strong and regular, exactly what we want to see."

I stared at the monitor, mesmerized by that pulsing light. It was barely the size of a blueberry, this life inside me, yet its heartbeat filled the room. Something shifted within me in that moment—a fierce, protective instinct I'd never felt before.

"I'll want to see you again in four weeks," Dr. Carter said, handing me prenatal vitamin samples and pamphlets about early pregnancy. "In the meantime, call if you have any questions or concerns."

I walked out into the bright spring sunshine feeling fundamentally changed. The tiny image from the ultrasound was tucked safely in my purse, physical evidence of the decision forming in my heart.

Without conscious thought, my feet carried me toward a small boutique displaying baby clothes in the window. I wandered inside, touching soft blankets and tiny sweaters, trying to imagine a future I had never considered before.

"First baby?" asked the saleswoman, noticing my wonder.

"Yes," I admitted, the word coming easier this time.

"These are popular with new moms," she said, showing me a pair of impossibly small knitted booties. "They're the first thing many women buy when they find out."

The booties were cream-colored with delicate blue ribbons. I purchased them impulsively, carrying the small bag as if it contained something precious. In a way, it did—my first acknowledgment that this pregnancy was real, that this baby was real.

Walking along Fifth Avenue, the booties tucked safely in my purse alongside the ultrasound image, I felt a strange sense of peace despite the uncertainty ahead. Whatever happened with Alexander, I knew now that I wanted this child.

"Sophia Montgomery! What a surprise!"

The shrill voice cut through my thoughts like glass. Lena Shaw, draped in designer wear that screamed old money, air-kissed both my cheeks before I could escape. As Alexander's publicly acceptable match—the daughter of his father's oldest friend—Lena had always viewed me with thinly veiled contempt.

"Lena," I greeted her with forced politeness. "How nice to see you."

"Shopping for the gallery?" she asked, eyeing the small boutique bag in my hand.

"Just some personal items," I deflected. "How have you been?"

"Marvelous! The Sterling Industries charity gala is next month, and I'm heading the committee." Her smile was all teeth. "Alexander's been so supportive. Between us, I think Richard is finally wearing him down about making our arrangement official."

I kept my expression neutral despite the stab of pain her words caused. Our "arrangement," as she called it, had never been a secret from me. Alexander had been clear from the beginning that he would eventually marry someone suitable for business purposes. Someone like Lena.

"That's... wonderful," I managed.

"It's only natural," she continued, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "The Sterling men always marry for advantage. It's practically a family tradition." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Though his poor mother tried to break that pattern, didn't she? What a cautionary tale."

"His mother?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Lena's eyes glittered with malicious delight. "Oh, you don't know? I assumed since you and Alexander are... friendly... that he'd have told you." Her pause made it clear she knew exactly what kind of "friends" we were.

"It was before my time in the social circles, I'm afraid," I said carefully.

"Well," Lena leaned closer, "his mother was nobody important—just a pretty face at a charity event. She trapped Richard by getting pregnant, forced a marriage." Her voice dropped to a stage whisper. "When she realized he'd never love her, she started taking pills. The night she overdosed, Alexander was home. Fifteen years old and he just... watched her die. Refused to call an ambulance until it was too late."

My blood ran cold. "That can't be true."

"It's common knowledge in certain circles," Lena shrugged. "Richard had to pay a fortune to keep it out of the papers. That's why Alexander is so cold—grew up watching his father resent his mother for trapping him with a child. History repeats itself in that family." She glanced meaningfully at my stomach. "Something to consider if you're thinking of trying the same trick."

I felt sick, and not from morning sickness. "I should go. I have a meeting."

"Of course! Let's do lunch soon," Lena called after me, her mission accomplished.

I walked blindly, her words echoing in my mind. Was it true? Had Alexander's mother really died that way? It would explain his visceral reaction to my pregnancy, his immediate assumption that I was trying to trap him.

By the time I reached my apartment, a terrifying clarity had settled over me. If even half of what Lena said was true, Alexander would never accept this baby. Worse, he might resent the child the same way his father had resented him.

I paced my apartment as evening fell, weighing my options. Alexander would return from London tomorrow. He would expect me to have scheduled the abortion. When he discovered I wanted to keep the baby, what would happen? Would he try to control me the way Richard had controlled his mother?

The thought made me shudder. I placed a protective hand over my stomach, remembering the strong, rapid heartbeat from the ultrasound. I couldn't risk my child growing up in that toxic environment, watching its father's resentment turn to hatred.

Decision made, I moved with purposeful efficiency. I packed a single suitcase with essentials, withdrew cash from an ATM, and purchased a one-way ticket to San Francisco using my credit card—a risk, but I needed to be far away before Alexander returned.

As midnight approached, I took one last look around the apartment I'd called home for five years. On the kitchen counter, I left a single note: "I won't be a pawn."

It was both an explanation and a promise—to myself and to my unborn child. We would not be pawns in Alexander Sterling's game, would not be sacrifices to the Sterling family legacy of loveless marriages and emotional manipulation.

As my taxi pulled away toward JFK Airport, I watched the Manhattan skyline recede, the city lights blurring through my tears. I had no idea what awaited me in San Francisco, only that it had to be better than becoming another tragic footnote in the Sterling family history.

The plane took off just as dawn broke over New York. As we soared above the clouds, I finally allowed myself to rest, one hand protectively cradling my stomach. Whatever happened next, we would face it together—me and this tiny beating heart that had already changed everything.