Chapter 22 - The Audit
|
As the foundation flourished, our personal life settled into a beautiful, quiet rhythm. The nights that were once plagued by Ellen’s terrifying nightmares of Michael’s betrayal were now filled with deep, restful sleep and peaceful mornings. Yet, I noticed a subtle, uncharacteristic shift in her behavior as the winter months approached. She seemed unusually tired, her vibrant energy slightly dimmed, and she had begun skipping her morning coffee, claiming the smell made her nauseous.
"Ellen, are you feeling alright?" I asked one evening, standing in the doorway of our private kitchen. She was leaning against the marble counter, holding a glass of ice water, her face unusually pale.
"I'm just exhausted, Robert," she sighed, forcing a small, reassuring smile. "The planning for the new housing wing has been incredibly demanding. I think I just need a good night’s rest."
I walked over, placing the back of my hand gently against her forehead to check for a fever. Her skin was cool, but her eyes lacked their usual sharp focus.
"I'm scheduling an appointment with Dr. Evans tomorrow morning," I stated, my tone leaving absolutely no room for negotiation. "I am not taking any chances with your health. The foundation can run without you for a few days."
"Robert, you worry entirely too much," she chuckled, though she leaned gratefully into my touch.
"Worrying about you is my full-time job," I whispered, kissing her gently.
The next morning, the clinic was quiet. I sat in the sterile waiting room, impatiently flipping through a mundane magazine, my mind racing with a hundred different worst-case scenarios. The protective instinct inside me was highly calibrated for physical threats and corporate monsters, but medical uncertainty left me feeling frustratingly powerless.
After what felt like an agonizing eternity, the heavy wooden door to the examination room finally opened. Ellen stepped out, her face completely unreadable. Dr. Evans followed closely behind her, a warm, knowing smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.
I stood up instantly, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
"What is it? What’s wrong?" I demanded, looking between the two of them.
May you like
Ellen took a slow, deep breath, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She walked across the room, took both of my hands in hers, and looked up at me with an expression of pure, unadulterated wonder.
"Robert," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'm pregnant."
