The Billionaire is the Father

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I have no medical records since I abruptly moved here. "Yes. A mild case of asthma. It last attacked when I was twelve years old, and since then I have been fine. I was told my grandmother had it too."

"Your mother has it too." Mr. Brown says in a low voice that I almost miss his words, but I hear them.

"What? How do you know that?" His eyes widened slightly. "Um, it is just a random thought." He looks nervous, and I nod, but I know I will talk to him later. So many things aren’t adding up.

"Is my baby in danger?" Dr. Greene gives me a small smile, produces a copy of something, and gives it to me. At first, I didn't understand what it was until I saw the different shapes. A hand lifts to my mouth as tears of joy come to my eyes. It looks like a bean.

The doctor gives me some instructions and soon leaves me to rest since I feel so sleepy that I can’t take it anymore. Dreams of me telling Sydney about my child come to me.

I pace around the hospital room, thinking of ways to tell Sydney Kings about the pregnancy. I somehow know he won’t take this so easily. I'm ready to be a mother. Heck! I have no job! I live in a small apartment. How can I raise a child? A thought of an abortion comes to mind, but I quickly dismiss the thought before it registers in my mind.

The hospital room door opens, and Mr. Brown comes in with a bag containing my clothes and toothbrush that I had asked him to bring. I go into the bathroom and change into my clothes. The bills are settled even though Mr. Brown has insisted on doing it, but I have refused. I'm not comfortable with him paying for my bills. I already have lots of questions to ask him.

As soon as Dr. Greene gives me the okay to leave, I head straight out of the hospital. Mr. Brown is behind me, and I can’t help but feel irritated. I stop and turn to him. "Thank you, Mr. Brown, for all the help and care you have given me, but I can really take it from here. I assume you have lots of things to do."

"Steven. Call me Steven. We are way past the second name, Isabella." He gives me a small smile that looks odd since I've never seen him smile, but it makes him look a little bit friendly. "I know you have questions, and we have to talk. Let’s get to my apartment, and I will tell you everything you need to know."

I really need to be answered, but what if Mr. Steven is a killer or another psycho? But he's helped me twice when I was vulnerable. What if he’s stalking me? He mentioned my mother, though. This was frustrating. I can use my moves on him if he tries anything.

I open my mouth to answer him, but he beats me to it. "Maybe we could just talk in yours; maybe you’ll feel better." He must have noticed the conflict in my eyes. Everyone says I have very expressive eyes. I give him a grateful smile, then follow him to his car.

The ride from the hospital is uncomfortable, and to say I'm not anxious would be a big lie. I don't know what to expect, but I try to keep my mind open. Thankfully, after ten long minutes, we are there. Steven gets into his apartment as he has some things that he needs to show me, which gives me some time to get into some joggers and a loose shirt. I heat some milk in a glass, which I take. I love milk, and now I have cravings for milk. Ten minutes later, Steven comes with a blue folder and sits on a love seat.

I take my glass of milk and settle on the opposite seat from him. "Who are you, Steven Brown?" I look at his face. His face remains neutral. Does he have any emotions?

"I am Jason Styles." I gasped at that. We have the same last names. Is he...? "I am an undercover agent, and I work for your family. Your mother specifically." He takes out some papers from his folder and gives them to me. It has a picture of a middle-aged woman, probably in her late forties (47?). She had brown hair slightly darker than mine and blue eyes just like mine and Jason's. I have her features, and we resemble each other.

I stared at the photo for what seemed like a millennium before I snapped out of it. I look at the details. Her name is Carolina Styles; she is 46 and widowed. I looked up to see Stev. Jason is looking at me.

"What is this?" I feel myself shake. I have a mother. But I was told my parents had died. I grew up with shy parents who died some years ago. "What kind of joke is this, Mr. Styles?" That seems odd when I call him that, but I say nothing. I place the half-glass of milk on the coffee table before I stand.

"You have to calm down, Isabella. You are pregnant, remember?" I feel so frustrated, but I take a deep breath until I feel calm.

"Please sit. I can’t explain anything if you are not calm." I follow his instructions even though I don't want to. I’m really not good with instructions, but for the sake of my coming baby, I won’t risk it. I've already lost one.

I place my palm on my stomach as a reflex without thinking. "Carolina is my sister, but I work for her." He pauses, looking at me. Waiting for a reaction. Jason Styles is my uncle. The first real family I've met He seems young, though. I nod for him to continue, even though I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. Stupid hormones.

"When you were five, you were kidnapped when your mother met up with me in a mall. I went to get your mother’s gift from the car since it was her birthday, but when I got back, she looked so pale, and she was everywhere looking for you. She said she was distracted by some tourists when they asked for some directions, but when they left, you were gone. Since then, your mother hasn't been the same. She hated her birthdays. She got sick often because she never ate or even took care of herself."

My heart is beating so fast. I was kidnapped. My mother is alive. Why would I be kidnapped? I looked up to look at my uncle. It felt strange to say that. He has tears running down his cheeks.

"Where is she now?" I ask the question that has been bugging me since I saw her picture. Jason exhales a large amount of breath.

"After some years, she had so much stress that it triggered her asthma attacks. She survived them, but after two years, she fell into depression. She shut herself off from the world. She wouldn’t get out of her room and would stay in it for months. She had episodes where she would call you." Jason stands from his seat, comes to mine, and takes my hands into his.

"You are her world, Isabella. Matthew died when she was eight months pregnant, causing her to go into shock and have an early labor. They had planned to get married a few months after your birth." My mother had gone through so much. Tears come to my eyes, and I can’t wipe them. I want to cry for my mother’s suffering. To cry for the life that she’s gone through. To cry for the suffering we both went through when we were apart.

"You were the only part she had of Matthew, and so she loved you so much. Matthew was in the FBI. He was shot on one of his missions and died. Your mother had prepared the house for his coming since he was supposed to be back before your birthdate." I let out a shaky breath.

Jason stood, letting my hand fall back onto my lap. "Your mother is sick. Schizophrenia. She’s in a facility. Her mind isn’t fine. She started seeing you and took your dolls, cradled them, and sang to them. She’s been there for two years now, but she seems to be getting better. I came here to look for you, and when I found you, I had to look out for you before I could tell you anything."