Chapter 6: The Doctor's Visit
1128 Words
The doctor was here in 20 minutes.
Dr. Reyes. Female. 40s. Looked like she’d seen everything and wasn’t impressed by billionaires.
"Mr. Cole. Mrs. Cole," she said, setting her bag down on the marble counter. "I’m here for a private consultation."
Damien nodded, jaw tight. He hadn’t slept. I could tell. Dark circles under his eyes.
"Can we do the ultrasound here?" he asked.
"Yes," Dr. Reyes said. "But I need to talk to Mrs. Cole alone first."
My stomach dropped.
Damien’s eyes shot to me. "Is that necessary?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "Standard procedure."
He looked like he wanted to argue. Then he exhaled. "I’ll be in the other room."
He squeezed my hand before walking away. "I’m right here, okay?"
The second he left, Dr. Reyes turned to me.
"Mrs. Cole. How are you feeling?"
"Scared," I admitted. "And nauseous. And tired."
"Normal," she said, smiling kindly. "How far along do you think you are?"
"About 6 weeks. Based on... the timeline."
She nodded. "Let’s confirm."
---
The ultrasound machine was set up in the living room.
Cold gel on my stomach. Dark room. The only sound was my heartbeat in my ears.
"Okay, let’s take a look," Dr. Reyes said, moving the wand.
The screen flickered. Black and white. Fuzzy.
Then...
There it was.
A tiny flicker.
A tiny heartbeat.
_thump thump. thump thump._
My breath caught.
"That’s the baby’s heartbeat," Dr. Reyes said softly. "Strong and steady. 142 bpm. Perfect."
I started crying. I couldn’t help it.
"Is it... okay?" I whispered.
"Everything looks good," she said. "About 6 weeks, 2 days. Due around late March."
The door opened.
Damien.
He froze when he saw the screen. Saw me crying. Saw the little flicker.
"What’s wrong?" he asked, panic in his voice.
"Nothing," Dr. Reyes said quickly. "Everything is perfect. Come listen."
He crossed the room in 2 steps and took my hand. His hand was ice cold.
Dr. Reyes turned up the volume.
_thump thump. thump thump._
Damien’s grip on my hand tightened.
I felt him go completely still beside me.
For a full minute, neither of us spoke. We just listened.
To our baby’s heart.
"That’s..." Damien’s voice was rough. "That’s really it."
"That’s really it," I whispered back.
Dr. Reyes cleared her throat. "I’ll give you two a moment."
---
When she left, the room was silent except for the heartbeat still echoing in my head.
Damien hadn’t let go of my hand.
He was staring at the screen. At the tiny blob that was our baby.
"Ava," he said finally.
"Yeah?"
"I’m scared too."
I turned to him. His mask was gone. No CEO. No billionaire. Just a man looking at the ultrasound and looking terrified.
"I don’t know how to do this," he admitted. "I don’t know how to be a dad. My dad was..." He shook his head. "Not good."
"You’ll figure it out," I said. "Because you’re already trying."
He looked at me then. Really looked.
"You cried," he said.
"So did you," I teased, even though his eyes were dry.
"Did not."
"Your hand was shaking."
A ghost of a smile. "Maybe."
Dr. Reyes came back in with paperwork. Prenatal vitamins. Appointment schedule.
"Keep this private for now," she said. "Stress isn’t good for the baby."
"We will," Damien said.
After she left, it was just us again.
---
That afternoon, the internet exploded.
#DamienColeSecretWife was now #BillionaireBaby.
Photos of me at the press conference. Zoomed in on my stomach.
Articles: "Is Ava Cole Pregnant?" "Cole Corporation Heir Due in Spring?"
Damien threw his phone across the room.
"I’m going to sue," he said, pacing. "Every single one of them."
"Damien," I said quietly. "Stop."
He turned to me.
"They don’t get to do this to you. To us."
"I know," I said. "But getting angry won’t help the baby."
He stopped pacing. Looked at me.
"You’re right." He ran a hand through his hair. "I hate that I can’t protect you from this."
"You are," I said. "By being here."
He came and sat next to me on the couch. Careful. Like I might break.
"Can I..." he hesitated. "Can I put my hand there?"
He gestured to my stomach.
I nodded.
His hand was big and warm. He placed it gently, just below my navel.
There was nothing there yet. No bump. No proof except the ultrasound photo on the coffee table.
But his expression...
It was awe. Wonder. Fear.
"Hey, little one," he whispered. So quiet I almost didn’t hear. "Your mom and I are trying. Okay?"
I started crying again.
"Don’t cry," he said, panicked. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No," I laughed through tears. "Hormones."
"Right. Hormones." He pulled me into his side. "You’re stuck with me now, you know. Both of you."
"For 6 months," I reminded him.
"For 6 months," he agreed. "And then we’ll see."
---
That night I couldn’t sleep.
At 2AM I found Damien in his office. Lights off. Only the city outside.
He was holding the ultrasound photo.
"Can’t sleep?" I asked from the doorway.
"Can you?" he asked back.
I shook my head and walked in. Sat in the chair across from him.
He slid the photo across the desk to me.
"Look at this," he said. "We made that."
"We did," I whispered.
He stood up and came around the desk. Knelt in front of me.
"Ava," he said. "About what I said earlier. About trying."
"Yeah?"
"I meant it." His hands came up to my face. "I want to try. With you. For real."
My heart was pounding.
"What changed?"
"You," he said simply. "And that sound. That heartbeat."
He leaned in. Slow. Giving me time to pull away.
I didn’t.
His lips brushed mine. Soft. Chaste. Testing.
Then deeper. Like he’d been holding back for weeks.
When we pulled apart, we were both breathing hard.
"That was..." I started.
"Not a mistake," he finished for me. "Not this time."
His phone buzzed on the desk.
Vivienne.
*Message: Board emergency meeting. 8AM. The press knows. We need damage control. Bring your wife.*
Damien cursed.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Vivienne," he said, standing. "She wants to use the pregnancy against us. Against the merger."
I stood too. My legs felt shaky.
"Then we go," I said. "Together."
Damien looked at me. Pride in his eyes.
"Together," he agreed.
He pulled me into a hug. One arm around my waist, hand resting low on my back.
Protective. Claiming.
"We’ll handle it," he murmured into my hair. "For the baby."
"For us," I corrected.
He pulled back and kissed my forehead.
"For us," he repeated.
Outside, the sun was starting to rise.
Inside, we had a war to fight.
And a baby to protect.
- Writer
