As the Southern Wind Moves On

Chapter 15---He Knows I'm Pregnant

If I were lucky, maybe I'd find a kind driver. The wind howled and rain poured; a palm-sized umbrella was useless. I hadn't gone far before my clothes were soaked.

Perhaps my luck was truly awful—I walked and walked, yet not a single car stopped. The cold seeped into my body, and a dull ache stirred in my lower abdomen. After just a few steps, I could barely stand. The pain sharpened, stabbing like needles.

Fearing for the baby, I stopped and crouched, clutching my stomach. The rain fell harder. I patted my pocket—my phone was gone. I must have left it in the car when I got out.

I'd already come a long way. With the cramps worsening, I couldn't possibly walk back. Leaning on a roadside bollard, I forced myself forward a few steps, but waves of cold sweat broke out. I had no choice but to crouch again.

I sensed a warm trickle between my legs. My heart lurched—this child might not survive...

An old nursery rhyme says: girls are made of sugar, spice, and everything nice—hardly less than angels.

But not every girl is made of sugar, spice, and lovely things. Some girls are born to face disaster, pain, torment, separation, and desires that can never be fulfilled.

"Hiss…" The sound of tires stopping reached me. I was already so dizzy I could barely lift my eyes. Dazed, I looked up.

A black Jeep. License plate: Aquilon ACL999. Maxwell Harrington.

Those names flashed through my mind. I knew Maxwell had come. Summoning my last strength, I pushed myself up.

But I'd been crouched too long, and my head was already spinning. I toppled backward.

"Stupid woman!" A deep, cold voice cut through. I tried to open my eyes, but had no strength. Faintly, I felt Maxwell lift me and carry me into the car—then darkness swallowed me.

When I woke, my mind was foggy. Everything was white and blurred. Only when my vision cleared did I realize I was in a hospital.

I shifted—pain surged, sharp and deep.

Instinctively, I reached for my lower abdomen.

"Don't worry, the baby is fine!" The sudden voice startled me. I turned—Elias Montgomery. I froze, unsure what to say.

After a pause, I tried to speak—"You…" But my throat was so raw I couldn't force out a word.

He raised an eyebrow, poured a glass of water, then came to my side and half-lifted me. I resisted, bracing with my elbows, trying to pull away.

He ignored my gesture, brought the cup to my lips, and began to feed me. I reached for it—he pulled it back. "Drink."

So I gave in and drank.

After a few sips, my throat eased.

He laid me back and set the cup down. I looked at him. "Thank you."

He kept his eyes down, idly turning a phone in his hand, giving a quiet "Hmm."

After a hesitation, I asked, "Does Maxwell know about the baby?" If I hadn't imagined it, Maxwell had brought me to the hospital last night. If Elias knew, then Maxwell must too.

He stopped. His dark eyes fixed on me. He narrowed them slightly. "You don't want him to know?"