My Boyfriend's Pregnant Mistress

Chapter 7 Personal Maid

The door to Beatrice's VIP suite clicked shut that night, and it stayed closed, not opening again for hours.

Felix never stepped out, not even for a moment, leaving Celeste adrift in the cold, sterile hospital corridor.

She waited there from dusk straight through to the early hours of dawn, until she could bear the silence and uncertainty no longer.

With shaky, hesitant fingers, she inched the door open just a tiny c***k.

Felix had Beatrice wrapped tightly in his arms, his lips pressed to hers in a deep, possessive kiss, his fingers tangled loosely in her soft hair. Every tender movement felt like a knife twisting in her chest.

"Felix, we can't—not with the baby. Be careful," Beatrice murmured against his lips, her voice soft and breathless, feigning hesitation even as she leaned into his embrace.

Felix's voice came out low and rough, laced with quiet desire, his hold on her never loosening. "You little troublemaker—you know we can't, yet you keep teasing me anyway."

Beatrice lowered her gaze, the picture of a shy, guilty child, her tone dripping with false modesty and selflessness. "Felix, you should go check on Celeste. The baby and I will wait right here for you, I promise."

But Felix clung to her as if he couldn't bear to let go, addicted to her presence. "Don't worry about her. She's always been tough; she'll be fine on her own. I'll check on her later—right now, all I care about is you."

Those sweet, devoted words were sharper than the shards of glass from the car crash, slicing through Celeste's resolve and leaving her feeling raw and exposed, every inch of her soul bruised beyond repair.

By early morning, when Felix finally stepped out of the suite, he froze at the sight of Celeste, still sitting on the hard floor, her eyes hollow and completely numb, all fight and emotion gone from her face.

He frowned in obvious irritation, his tone cold and dismissive. "What are you still doing here?"

Celeste lifted her eyes slowly to meet his, her gaze empty and calm. "Felix, I won't stand in your way anymore. I won't stop Beatrice from having the baby, and I won't stop you from keeping her by your side. I have just one favor to ask. Please find me the best specialists in the country—fix my hand, and help me get my taste back. That's all I want."

Felix had grown so used to Celeste fighting with him, screaming and crying over Beatrice and the unborn child, that her complete submission caught him off guard.

A strange sense of satisfaction washed over him, his mood lifting instantly at the thought that she'd finally surrendered.

It only confirmed what he'd suspected.

'Celeste is just like any other woman, after all. When push comes to shove, she'll crumble and come crawling back to him, begging for his help. She can't survive without me. She isn't as strong or independent as she's always pretended to be.'

"Fine. Stay here and look after her, and I'll arrange for the best doctors to treat you," he said curtly, a hint of smugness in his tone.

The private nurse assigned to Beatrice was dismissed on the spot, and Celeste was forced into the role of Beatrice's personal maid, at her every beck and call.

Celeste didn't utter a single word of protest; the humiliation meant nothing to her, not if it meant healing her hand and regaining her sense of taste.

Beatrice, for her part, laid on the false sympathy thick, her eyes wide and apologetic as she leaned back against the pillows. "Celeste, I'm so sorry about this. Felix just worries about the baby too much; he doesn't trust anyone else to take care of me. Please don't be upset with me... could you fetch a basin of warm foot soak water for me, please?"

Celeste complied without a word, turning to fetch the water and set it at Beatrice's feet, her face blank and unreadable.

In the middle of the night, she'd nearly drifted off in the hard chair beside the bed when Beatrice's quiet voice woke her. "Celeste, I'm so hungry—the baby must be craving something. The hospital food is terrible. Could you run back to the estate and make me something homemade to eat?"

Exhausted and aching, Celeste had no choice but to drag herself out of the hospital and drive back to the mansion to prepare a simple meal.

By the time she returned to the hospital with the insulated food bag, Felix was waiting for her, his face twisted with frustration and anger. "I told you to stay here and watch over her, not run off. Don't forget that you're the one who begged me to find you doctors."

Celeste sighed wearily, lifting the insulated bag in her hand to explain, "She was hungry, I had to go home to make her food."

Felix refused to accept her excuse, his scowl deepening as he glared at her. "You used to cook in half the time this took. Why are you dragging your feet now? Stop picking on her for no reason. And don't forget who you're relying on for help."

He'd clearly forgotten all about her injured hand, her infected wound, her lost taste.

He snatched the insulated bag from her grasp roughly and stormed into the suite, slamming the door behind him without another glance.

Utterly drained, Celeste made her way to the corridor restroom, splashing cold water on her face in a feeble attempt to wake herself up. But as she stepped back out, she couldn't help overhearing a group of nurses whispering nearby, their voices loud with judgment and mockery.

"Did you hear? That Ms. Winter, running around doing everything—fetching water, making meals, staying up all night—she's actually Mr. Sterling's girlfriend."

"Wait, really? So the pregnant girl in the VIP suite is the other woman?"

"Pretty much. Making the real girlfriend wait on the mistress? I've never seen anything like this."

"Well, she's putting up with it, so it's not our place to say. What a joke, though—being the main woman and ending up this humiliated."

Celeste's face burned with shame as she hurried past them, heading towards the stairs to return to her own small hospital room.

Before she could take more than a few steps, the door to Beatrice's suite flew open violently, crashing against the wall.

"Celeste, get in here. Now!" Felix's roar echoed down the corridor, cold and furious, making Celeste jump in shock.

She had no idea what she'd done wrong, her heart pounding with fear as she swallowed hard and stepped slowly towards the suite.

The second she crossed the threshold, Felix reached out and yanked her roughly towards him.

The memory of his slap across her face flashed through her mind, and she flinched instinctively, lifting her uninjured hand to shield her face before she could stop herself.

For a split second, Felix froze, a flicker of something like guilt or pity crossing his face—but it was gone so fast Celeste was certain she'd imagined it.

The door slammed shut behind her, locking them inside, and his gaze turned icy and menacing, so cold it made her blood run cold, as if he wanted to tear her apart.

He leaned in close, his voice low and venomous, full of rage and disgust. "You're pregnant. Whose bastard child is it?"

Celeste's eyes flew wide open, staring at him in complete, unbridled disbelief.