Chapter03
982 Words
Amelia's POV
The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the hospital room. I stood by Jefferson’s bedside, watching his still form. His face was pale, his breathing even but shallow.
The doctor had told me he was stable, but there was no telling when he’d wake up.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You really threw me into the deep end, you know,” I muttered. “Signing over your company to me? I don’t even know where to start.”
Silence.
I sighed. “Maybe that was your plan…to watch me struggle.” I tried to laugh, but it came out wrong.
Reaching out, I hesitated before taking his hand in mine. It was warm, strong even in his unconscious state. “Wake up soon, Jefferson,” I whispered. “I don’t know if I can do this without you.”
With one last glance at him, I turned and left.
Walking into the boardroom, I ignored the stares thrown my way. I wasn’t here to make friends.
Charles Whitmore placed the documents before me. “Once you sign, you’ll have full control of Reynolds Enterprises.”
I picked up the pen, hesitating for only a second before signing. There was no turning back now.
The moment Charles finalized the papers, the doors opened, and a woman walked in with a younger man beside her.
The woman walked in elegantly, dressed in a black silk gown and she looked in her forties. The man was probably in his mid-twenties.
The woman glanced at me and gave a disgusted look.
“Charles, who is this?” the woman asked, turning to the attorney.
Well, that was rude. I needed to show this woman, who the new boss was, whoever she was.
“I'm Amelia Reynolds,” I said, not giving Charles a chance to respond.
“And you are?” I asked, reaching out for a handshake.
She scoffed, ignoring my gesture. “Someone who doesn’t need to introduce herself to an outsider.”
I raised a brow and withdrew my hand. “Then I'll just assume you're not important.”
A few people around the table shifted uncomfortably, but I didn’t care. If she wanted to be rude, I wasn’t going to sit back and take it.
“I see Jefferson married a bold one,” the young man beside her murmured.
The woman’s expression darkened. “I am Amanda Reynolds. And this is my son, Dorian.”
My stomach dropped.
Jefferson’s stepmother and his stepbrother.
Shit, I couldn't keep my big mouth shut. I just had to insult a random lady who happened to be my in-law.
“Well,” I cleared my throat, “this is awkward.”
I expected her to respond harshly.
But instead, she turned to Charles. “Are we done here?”
“Yes,” he confirmed.
Amanda glared at me one last time before walking out.
Dorian winked at me then followed behind.
I exhaled and the tension I had left in my shoulders eased a bit.
Damn, I did not see that coming. The last thing I wanted was to be enemies with my in-laws.
I turned to Charles. He just shrugged, packed his stuff and left me there.
“Urgh, everyone here was really a pain in my ass.” I thought to myself.
Running Reynolds Enterprises was exhausting. I spent hours reviewing files, attending meetings, and keeping the company steady in Jefferson’s absence. It was overwhelming, but I refused to fail.
Between work, I visited Jefferson often.
The first time, I stood at the doorway, hesitating. I wasn’t sure why I had come back so soon, but something about the silence of his room pulled me in. I sat beside him, watching his chest rise and fall.
“I signed the papers,” I told him. “Your company is officially in my hands.” I let out a small laugh. “Still not sure if that was a brilliant decision or a cruel joke.”
On another visit, I brought a book with me. The silence was suffocating, so I read aloud. “Not sure if you can hear me, but at least one of us should be entertained.”
Days turned into weeks. Each time I visited, I updated him on the company, my struggles, even the little victories. I didn’t know why I kept coming back, but something about being near him made me feel less alone.
Then, one morning, a wave of nausea hit me as I stood before the mirror. I gripped the edge of the sink, inhaling deeply.
I looked into the mirror. I was probably exhausted.
But the feeling didn't go away. It still lingered, creeping in during breakfast, after meetings.
Even in the middle of the night.
Then there was the fatigue. At first, I blamed it on long hours, but even after a full night’s rest, I still felt drained.
It wasn’t until I skipped lunch one afternoon that something clicked. The mere thought of food turned my stomach. A cold realization settled in my chest.
No. It’s impossible.
I told myself I was overthinking, but a part of me needed certainty.
The next morning, I made an appointment. Sitting in the waiting room, my fingers tapped anxiously against my knee. The nurse called my name, and soon, I was led into a private office.
A few tests later, the doctor returned with my results, a warm smile on her face.
She set the file down and looked at me. “Congratulations, Mrs. Reynolds.”
I blinked. “For what?”
A small smile tugged at her lips.
“You’re six weeks pregnant.”
The world around me tilted.
Pregnant.
My mind raced, calculating the impossible. Jefferson and I had been intimate only once… on our wedding night.
And yet…
My breath hitched.
Oh, God.
- Writer
