CEO'S Runaway wife

You're pregnant

—-----------VIVIAN’S POV —----------

A few days later, I tried to settle back into my routine, returning to work as if everything were normal.

But the weight of my recent experiences was heavy, and I still couldn't believe how my life had turned upside down in such a short amount of time. It felt surreal, like I was living in someone else's nightmare.

I managed to get through the day, focusing on my tasks and trying to keep my mind occupied. Just as I was about to leave for lunch, my phone rang. I glanced at the screen, seeing an unknown number. With a sigh, I answered.

"Hello?" I said, trying to sound professional despite my weariness.

"Good afternoon, Miss Vivian," said a woman's voice on the other end. "I'm Dr. Emily Smith from St. Mary's Hospital. I'm calling to remind you of your appointment."

I frowned in confusion. "I'm sorry, but I don't have any appointments at your hospital. You must have the wrong number."

"Miss Vivian, this is important. We have some results that need to be discussed in person."

I felt a pang of unease. "I really don't know what you're talking about. I haven't scheduled any appointments. Goodbye."

I ended the call, convinced it was some sort of scam. Shaking my head, I tried to push the unsettling conversation out of my mind.

The workday dragged on, and I finally left the office, heading back to the small apartment I had rented after Lucas threw me out.

The memory of that night still stung, and I felt the familiar surge of anger as I thought about it.

Once home, I took a long shower, hoping to wash away the frustration and lingering sadness. The hot water was soothing, but it couldn't cleanse the turmoil inside me.

Exhausted, I went to bed, hoping for a night of dreamless sleep.

The next morning, as I walked to work, I suddenly felt like that someone was following me.

I glanced over my shoulder but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Still, the sensation of discomfort and being watched didn't go away, making me uneasy.

The strange phone calls continued throughout the week.

Each time, a different number would call, urging me to visit the hospital. I blocked every number, convinced it was some elaborate scam or mistake.

But the persistence of the calls made me annoyed.

One evening, after another day of blocking calls and feeling paranoid, I discussed about this issue with Sonam over coffee.

"It's just weird," I said, stirring my drink absentmindedly. "Why would they keep calling me about an appointment I never made?"

Sonam looked concerned. "Maybe you should go, just to see what it's about. It could be important."

I shook my head. "I don't know, Sonam. What if it's a scam? Or worse?"

"True, but what if it's something serious? It might be worth checking out, just to be sure."

I sighed. "I'll think about it. But for now, I just want to get through the week without any more surprises."

As the days passed, the strange feeling of being watched didn't go away. And the calls, though blocked, seemed to find new ways to reach me.

I knew I couldn't ignore this forever. Something was happening, and I needed to find out what it was, even if it meant facing whatever new twist fate had in store for me.

Two weeks later, I began to feel unwell.

Nausea and vomiting plagued my mornings, but I chalked it up to stress and poor eating habits.

Surely, it was just my body reacting to the emotional turmoil I had been through.

I ignored the symptoms and convinced myself they would pass with time.

But the unease I felt wasn't just limited to my physical health.

I began to feel like I was being watched even in my own home. It made me really nervous.

One afternoon, my phone rang with yet another unknown number. I thought it was same from the hospital appointment.

Instead this time, the call was from my bank, informing me of the debt on the house I had taken with Lucas. Though the house was now legally in his name, the debt remained mine.

I finally decided to confront him after days because no way in hell in going to pay his debt.

When I arrived at my old house, Lucas greeted me with a smirk that only fueled my fury.

"You need to pay the debt on the house," I demanded directly, struggling to keep my voice steady.

He just laughed. "Why should I? The house is mine now but not the payment. You're the one responsible for the debt."

"That's not fair, Lucas! You used me and then discarded me. You need to take responsibility."

He stepped closer, his expression darkening. "I owe you nothing, Vivian. Pay the debt yourself. It's your problem, not mine."

In a fit of rage, I slapped him hard across the face. He looked taken back for a moment before shoving me.

“You b***h, how dare you hit me?!”

I lost my balance, hitting my head against the edge of a table as I fell. Darkness swallowed me whole as I fainted.

—---------In the hospital—----------

When I regained consciousness, I found myself in a hospital bed. Disoriented and in pain, I tried to sit up.

How did I end up in a hospital?

"You're awake. How are you feeling?" A doctor entered the room, offering a reassuring smile.

"My head hurts," I admitted, gingerly touching the bandage. "What happened?"

"You had a fall and hit your head. But you're going to be fine. Both you and your child are fine."

Her words jolted me upright. My eyes widened in shock as I looked at her as if I just saw a ghost. "What? What did you say?"

The doctor looked at me with a mixture of concern and patience. "I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks. You’re pregnant, Miss Vivian."

My mind spun as I tried to process the information. "Pregnant? Are you sure? Are you by chance the doctor who keep pestering me to visit the hospital?”

"Yes, I am. And yes, I’m certain that you're pregnant. Mr. Asher informed us that you would be coming in for a pregnancy test. We've been trying to contact you to confirm it."

"Mr. Asher?" I repeated, utterly confused. "Who is Asher?"

The doctor glanced at her chart and then back at me. "Asher Blackwood. He’s the father of your child and the owner of this hospital."

My world tilted on its axis. Asher Blackwood? The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place it. The handsome stranger from the club—was that him? My heart raced as I tried to recall the foggy details of that night.

But how he's so sure that I would be pregnant?

"You're saying Asher Blackwood told you I would be pregnant?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady.

"Yes," the doctor confirmed. "He was very insistent that we take care of you and the baby. He’s been monitoring your condition closely."

I lay back against the pillows, my mind reeling. Asher Blackwood, the enigmatic stranger I had a one-night stand with, was the father of my child.

And he seemed to know more about my condition before I did.

What's happening?