Chapter 9: Let’s Get Married
Cora knew exactly what the Watson name meant.
She had overheard every word outside the room.
Even if she carried this child to term, there was no way the Watson family would ever let her keep it.
Could she really bear to give birth only to have her baby taken away the moment it entered the world?
Julian stood by the door, expression unreadable, but his gaze told her he already had her cornered.
The trap was closed. There was nowhere left to run.
He checked his watch. “Well? What’s your decision?” His tone was clipped, professional. “My time is limited.”
Cora lowered her head, thinking fast.
Matt was gone. Her reputation was already in ruins.
Because of one night in that hotel, her grandmother had nearly disowned her mother; if the news of her pregnancy reached home, they’d both be destroyed for good.
She’d lose her job, her home, everything.
There was no escape.
Finally, she drew a shaky breath. “Fine. I’ll marry you.”
“Good,” Julian said smoothly, already turning for the door. “Then prepare for the wedding. You can take an extended leave—rest well.”
⸻
The next morning, the HR department received an official memo.
Employee: Cora Dev.
Status: Special leave with full pay and bonus, authorized by Mr. Watson.
The entire office went silent.
One of the women who used to dump her workload on Cora nearly dropped her coffee.
“Wait—what? Full pay? Who even gets that?”
Whispers spread like wildfire.
Had something happened between her and Mr. Watson?
Had she somehow caught his attention?
Jealous curiosity turned into reckless ambition.
A few bold ones decided to “test their luck.”
One woman from another department dressed to impress and deliberately waited for Julian in the hallway, pretending to trip into his arms.
By afternoon, she was fired.
Instantly, the whole company went cold.
No one dared breathe wrong around Mr. Watson again.
Still, the question remained—why was he protecting her?
⸻
At the hospital, Cora received the kind of care reserved for royalty.
A full medical team was assigned solely to her.
One afternoon, she slipped out to walk in the garden, craving a moment of peace.
But within minutes, a group of nurses surrounded her.
“Mrs. Watson, please don’t stay out in the wind,” the head nurse pleaded. “You’re still in your first trimester. The chairman has given strict orders—no risks whatsoever.”
Cora sighed, cornered again. “Fine, fine. I’ll go back inside.”
When she returned to her floor, she stopped short.
A group of chefs were wheeling carts toward her room—each cart loaded with ornate dishes fit for a banquet.
She blinked. “What… is all this?”
Inside her room, the chefs were already laying out a feast across the dining table—dozens of dishes, gleaming under the chandelier.
“Mrs. Watson,” one chef said respectfully, “these are for your lunch, on the chairman’s orders. If you prefer different flavors, we can prepare another set.”
Cora stared, dumbfounded. “No need, I can’t possibly eat all this.”
A humble girl from a small town—suddenly the center of such lavish attention—it made her dizzy.
Another chef smiled. “Mr. Watson will be joining you. This is his usual meal selection.”
Cora’s face went warm. Oh. So that explained it.
Wait—what? Julian was coming here?
Before she could ask, a chorus of greetings rang from outside:
“Good afternoon, Mr. Watson!”
Cora stiffened instantly, unable to turn around.
She’d agreed to marry him, but in her heart, he was still a stranger.
Julian walked in, tall and composed, his presence filling the room.
He caught sight of her standing there frozen and said curtly, “Why are you just standing there? Eat.”
He sat down. A maid offered him a steaming towel.
Julian wiped his hands—once, twice—discarded the cloth, and only then picked up his knife and fork.