Chapter 294: Take The Test

\[Sarah\]

I wiped the sweat from my brow as I exited the operating room, the familiar post-surgery adrenaline slowly ebbing from my system. The procedure had gone well—a particularly complex neurosurgery for the elderly father of an influential European businessman. As I stripped off my surgical gown and gloves, I mentally calculated how much closer this payment would bring me to settling my debt with Theodore.

Five hundred thousand dollars. Another drop in the ocean of what I owed him, but it was something. At this rate, I'd be repaying him for decades, but I refused to think about that now.

"Dr. Sullivan?" A nurse approached me with a smile. "Mr. Renault would like to speak with you. He's waiting in the private lounge."

I nodded, smoothing down my hair and straightening my shoulders before heading to meet my client. The hallways of this exclusive private hospital were nothing like the sterile corridors of standard medical facilities. With their marble floors, wood paneling, and subtle lighting, they more closely resembled a luxury hotel.

Mr. Renault rose when I entered, his relief evident in the way his face brightened. "Dr. Sullivan! My father is recovering beautifully. The attending physician said the operation was flawless."

"I'm glad to hear that," I replied, accepting his enthusiastic handshake. "His vitals were strong throughout the procedure, which is excellent for a patient his age."

"You must join me for dinner," he insisted, his tone making it clear this wasn't really a request. "It's the least I can do to express my gratitude."

I wanted to decline. My body ached with fatigue, my wounded arm still occasionally throbbed when I overextended it, and the baby inside me seemed to protest whenever I pushed myself too hard. But five hundred thousand dollars warranted a dinner, at minimum.

"I'd be honored," I said instead, forcing a polite smile.

The restaurant he chose was predictably extravagant—the kind of place where the menu had no prices and the sommelier hovered expectantly until I waved away any wine offerings with a discreet gesture toward my abdomen.

"Dr. Sullivan," he said after we'd ordered, leaning forward slightly, "forgive my curiosity, but do you know a Dr. Wilson?"

My heart stuttered in my chest. The name hit me like a physical blow, though I kept my expression carefully neutral. "Not particularly well," I replied, taking a sip of water to hide any reaction. "Why do you ask?"

"She's been asking about you." His eyebrows rose meaningfully. "Approached a friend of mine, trying to gather information about your whereabouts and activities. She seemed particularly interested when she heard you'd operated on my father."

A chill ran through me that had nothing to do with the restaurant's excessive air conditioning. Wilson. The pieces were starting to fit together in my mind, forming a picture I'd suspected.

"How did your friend respond?" I asked, carefully setting down my water glass to hide the slight tremor in my hands.

"I instructed him to say nothing." Mr. Renault shrugged. "The surgery wasn't public knowledge—only a handful of people knew about it. I find it curious that she managed to discover this information at all."

I nodded slowly. "If she reached your friend, then she already had some details to begin with."

"Precisely!" He looked pleased that I'd caught on so quickly. "But this won't cause problems for you, will it? I understand you have business interests in America."

"It won't be an issue," I assured him, though my mind was racing. If Wilson was tracking my movements in Europe, there was only one reason: she was looking for leverage, information, anything she could use against me.

"The final payment has been transferred to your account," Mr. Renault said, smoothly changing the subject. "I know your fees are on the higher end, but after seeing the results, I can say with certainty that every penny was worth it."

"Thank you," I said, genuinely touched by his appreciation despite my distraction.

"Though I must ask," he continued, cutting into his perfectly seared steak, "why don't you advertise your services more widely? If not for recent events, I might never have discovered your medical background."

I offered a small, practiced smile. "I prefer a selective clientele."

When I returned to the villa later that evening, my body felt leaden with exhaustion. I checked my flight details for tomorrow's return to America, my thoughts inevitably drifting to Theodore. The last time we'd spoken, he'd been furious, his voice tight with an emotion I couldn't quite name. After that, he'd gone silent. No messages, no calls, nothing.

His words still echoed in my mind. Did he expect me to simply accept his billion-dollar "gift" without repayment? Our relationship was already complicated enough without adding financial dependency to the mix.

I placed a hand on my slightly rounded belly, feeling the gentle curve that housed our child. "We'll figure this out," I whispered to the life growing inside me, uncertain if I was trying to convince the baby or myself.

The following morning, my bodyguard accompanied me to the hospital for my prenatal checkup. I'd been putting it off, afraid of what I might learn, but I couldn't delay any longer.

"You're at 16 weeks now?" the doctor asked, moving the ultrasound wand over my abdomen, the cool gel making me shiver slightly.

"Yes," I confirmed, my eyes fixed on the grainy black-and-white image on the screen, searching for any sign that my baby was developing normally.

The doctor's expression was carefully neutral as she studied the monitor. "Your baby is still showing signs of delayed development," she finally said, glancing at my previous test results. "You mentioned at your last visit that the fetus was measuring about two weeks behind?"

My heart constricted painfully in my chest. I held my breath, waiting for her verdict, the beeping of the ultrasound machine suddenly deafening in the quiet room. If the baby had stopped developing entirely, even my determination to keep this child wouldn't matter.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor looked up. "There's still a lag in development, but I do see progress since your last scan. If you're committed to continuing this pregnancy, I recommend complete bed rest, optimal nutrition, and close monitoring."

Relief washed over me, so intense that I had to blink back sudden tears. My baby was still fighting.

"Have you had the amniocentesis test yet?" the doctor asked, wiping the gel from my abdomen. "Now would be the appropriate time for it."

I knew what the test was for—to detect chromosomal abnormalities, including Down syndrome. My medical training had taught me all about it, but facing it as a patient, as a mother, was entirely different. What if the test revealed something was wrong with my baby? I'd told Theodore I would keep our child regardless of any health issues, but confronting that possibility made my stomach twist with anxiety.

"Ms. Sullivan, given the delayed development, I strongly recommend this test," the doctor continued, noticing my hesitation. "If the fetus has serious abnormalities, terminating the pregnancy would be the most compassionate choice for both of you."

"The most compassionate choice..." I repeated softly, the words hanging heavy in the air between us.

"Yes. Down syndrome and other chromosomal disorders have no cure," she explained gently. "Even as an exceptional doctor yourself, you can't change that medical reality. If you can't provide the child with a normal life, it might be kinder to end the suffering early."

"I'll take the test," I decided, my voice steadier than I'd expected.

Back at the villa, I booked my flight home. I drafted a message to Mike with my arrival details but then hesitated, my finger hovering over the send button. Mike couldn't keep information to himself. He'd tell Alex, and Alex was unfailingly loyal to Theodore. After a moment's consideration, I deleted the message. I didn't need to inform Mike of every move I made.

The next day, I disguised myself with a baseball cap pulled low over my eyes, a face mask, and a loose black t-shirt that concealed my small baby bump. I slipped through the American airport as anonymously as possible, blending in with the crowd of travelers. Outside, I hailed a taxi and gave the driver my home address, then pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called for a long time.

"Hello?" a familiar voice answered, and I took a deep breath.