CEO'S Runaway wife

You're too weak

Vivian’s pov ;

“The driver will take you back. I’ve arranged for a personal caregiver. If you need anything, let her know.”

I blinked, taken aback. “A caregiver?”

His eyes flicked to mine, clearly impatient with my questions. “Yes. You’ll meet her when you get home. Now—” He paused, his tone taking on a more authoritative edge. “Do you have a passport?”

I frowned. “Why?”

He rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply. “Just answer the damn question.”

I shook my head slowly, my confusion growing. “No, I don’t.”

Without missing a beat, he said, “I’ll have my men prepare one for you. We’re leaving for Canada in a few days.”

My eyes widened. “Canada? Why?”

He turned, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. “I have business to take care of there. You’ll come with me. And while we’re there, you’ll meet my family.”

Meet his family? This entire situation was spinning out of control faster than I could keep up with. I hadn’t even processed being his wife, and now he was dragging me across the world to meet the family he hadn’t even told about our marriage.

Before I could respond, a man appeared, clearly nervous, interrupting us. “Sir, Miss Sophie is waiting for you at the airport.”

Asher’s expression hardened, his tone icy. “Then go pick her up.”

The man hesitated, swallowing nervously. “Mr. Patrick ordered that you personally pick her up, sir.”

For a brief moment, I saw something tinge in Asher’s eyes—annoyance, perhaps—but he nodded curtly and left without another word.

I was quickly ushered into a car, my mind racing. Sophie? Another name added to the confusion. I could only guess what kind of relationship she had with him. Someone important enough for him to be ordered to personally pick her up.

When I arrived back at the house, I was greeted by a woman who looked to be in her late fifties. She had warm eyes and a gentle demeanour.

“Hello, dear,” she said, smiling kindly. “I’m Rim. I used to be Asher’s personal nanny and had watched him grow up. And I'm so happy to be his baby’s nanny too.”

I stared at her, surprised. His nanny? Of all people, he’d sent the woman who had raised him to take care of me?

“I’ll be your caregiver for now,” she added, her voice soft but firm. “Asher asked me to look after you.”

“Oh, no,” I stammered, shaking my head. “You don’t have to. I can take care of myself.”

Rim chuckled gently, waving off my protest. “Nonsense. You’re carrying Asher’s child, aren’t you? You need to eat healthy and on time. Let me prepare something for lunch.”

I hesitated but eventually nodded, feeling both grateful and awkward. Rim’s kindness made me feel a little less on edge, but the thought of her taking care of me, especially at her age, felt wrong.

“Thank you,” I mumbled before heading up to my room to change. As I closed the door behind me, I leaned against it, letting out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding.

I felt like a stranger in this house, in this life.

I was taken downstairs for lunch, I found myself sitting at a long, polished dining table in the large, empty house. Rim sat across from me, her warm eyes watching over me with a gentle, motherly concern. As I began to eat, she asked about me—where I was from, what I did. It was strange. No one had really asked me about myself in so long.

At first, I hesitated, but Rim had a way of making you feel comfortable. She genuinely seemed interested, and something about her presence made me feel safe. So, I told her a little—how I’m an architect and how I’m an orphan. I didn’t go into too much detail. My past felt too personal, and besides, I wasn’t sure if I could trust anyone in this house yet. Still, Rim’s face softened with pity, her eyes full of sympathy.

“Oh, dear,” she murmured, shaking her head. “A sweet girl like you without parents. But don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you like you’re my own daughter, at least until the baby is born.”

Her words took me by surprise. I felt a warmth in my chest. No one had ever spoken to me like that, with such genuine care. I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded. “Thank you.”

Curiosity nagged at me. Who exactly is Asher? There was so much I didn’t know about him, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I should. Especially now that I was tangled in his life.

So, after a moment, I asked, “Rim, what can you tell me about Asher? I mean…who is he, really? And his family?”

Rim’s face softened again. “Well, dear, Asher is the adopted son of the country’s richest man, Patrick Blackwood. I'm surprised you have never heard of their family.”

Patrick Blackwood. The name the guard had mentioned earlier, when Asher was called to pick up Sophie. I had heard of him before—the Blackwood family was practically royalty in this country.

Wait a f*****g second. Is this same family someone like me could only hear on TV?

My stomach twisted with unease. “Adopted?” I repeated, finding it hard to believe.

Rim nodded. “Yes, dear. Mr. Patrick brought Asher home when he was just a small boy, maybe around six years old. He never explained much, just told me to take care of him.” She paused, a distant look crossing her face as if remembering the past. “But…even though Asher was raised as Mr. Patrick’s son, he was never really treated like the others.”

My brow furrowed. “Why not?”

Rim sighed. “Maybe because he wasn’t their own son. Or maybe there were other reasons. I don’t know. But I do know that Asher felt the pressure…different than the other kids. He was always trying harder, always quiet, always pushing himself to achieve more than his siblings. Like he had to prove himself. Like he was paying off some sort of debt.”

I stopped eating, my fork hovering over my plate as I absorbed what she was saying.

Before I could ask more, my stomach lurched, and the sudden nausea hit me. I barely managed to push my chair back before rushing to the bathroom to vomit.

When I was brought back to my room, weak and nauseated, Rim guided me to rest. But not long after, the door burst open, and Asher strode in, his expression dark and stormy, with the same doctor trailing behind him.

“Check her,” he barked, barely glancing at me, his entire focus on the doctor.

I glanced at the woman, who looked slightly exasperated, as if Asher had dragged her here without any choice. She sighed, clearly used to his demands, and came over to check me.

After a quick examination, she turned to him and said, “She’s fine. Feeling nausea is normal during pregnancy. It’s nothing to worry about.”

His eyes narrowed. “Then why did she vomit?” he demanded, clearly not satisfied with the answer.

The doctor gave a patient smile. “It happens. She should just avoid oily or heavy foods for now. It’ll help with the nausea.”

Asher’s scowl deepened, and without hesitation, he turned to Rim. “No more oily food for her. Got it?”

Rim nodded, her face calm but firm. “Of course, Mr. Asher.”

Satisfied, Asher gave a curt nod.

He asked everyone to leave, and once the room emptied, he turned to me, his voice firm yet calm. “If you feel anything wrong again, you have to let us know. I’ve spoken to the pilot, and we’ll leave for Canada in two days.”

I quickly got up and stared at him. “Two days? But what about your job? I can’t just leave like that.”

He paused, considering my question as if it were a minor inconvenience. Then, without so much as a trace of hesitation, he said, “I’ll have someone send your resignation letter. It’s not a problem.”

I was stunned. Just like that, my entire life here could be shattered with a single phone call? My job, my independence—everything I’d built.

I thought of Sonam. God, I needed to see her, talk to her, but I can't do that. She was getting married soon, and the last thing I wanted was to drag her into this mess. It felt like I had no choice, so I just nodded. Helplessly.

He didn’t seem to notice the turmoil in my head. Instead, he continued, “There will be some events in Canada you’ll need to attend. I’ve arranged for a team of the best doctors to come with us.”

I wanted to roll my eyes. Why does he have to make everything such a grand production? But then again being this rich must mean everything is big—big plans, big gestures, big problems.

Suddenly, I sneezed. The room was freezing, and I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself for warmth.

He looked at me sharply. “What happened? Are you sick again?” His tone was accusatory, like my body was failing him somehow. “You’re too weak.”

I couldn’t help it. “And you’re too rich,” I shot back, the words slipping out before I could stop myself. “This room is freezing, and I don’t even know how to work the thermostat.”

He blinked at me, as if I had just spoken in a foreign language. Then, without another word, he called out to the man stationed outside the door. “Change her room. Move her to mine,” he ordered. “The temperature is better there.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “What?” I managed to stutter.

He smirked at my shock. “Don’t worry, I’ll move to my study. I won’t be in your way. As long as my baby is fine.”

He left the room, leaving me dumbfounded. His baby. That phrase echoed in my head. Why was he so fixated on this child? Why did I feel like his concern wasn’t just about giving his father an heir?

There seemed to be something else behind it. But what?

Two days passed in a blur, and before I knew it, I was sitting in a private plane, flying to a country I hadn’t even planned to visit, much less live in.