Chapter 92 I’m Pregnant
Sloane's POV
I leaned against him, listening to his steady, strong heartbeat, his clean, pleasant scent filling my nose.
This feeling of being loved and protected without reservation was like a warm light, illuminating all the dark corners of my past, making all those old grievances and silent endurance seem insignificant.
I loved this feeling of being cherished by him.
Something touched the softest part of my heart. Almost possessed, I turned around, stood on my tiptoes, wrapped my arms around his neck, and pressed my lips to his.
This kiss had nothing to do with desire—it was pure, just wanting to be close to him, to comfort him.
He clearly hadn't expected me to take the initiative. His body stiffened for a moment, but soon he took control, cupping the back of my head and deepening the kiss.
A few days later, with Jared personally applying pressure, Keira's case moved through the legal process at record speed. The evidence was solid—there was no chance of her getting out of this.
I went to the hospital to help Lila organize some follow-up materials for a medical dispute. During a break, the TV in the hospital lobby was broadcasting breaking news.
A remote village had been hit by a powerful tornado. The entire village was nearly leveled—houses collapsed, casualties were heavy, and the footage was horrifying.
I was watching with a tight feeling in my chest when I suddenly heard hurried footsteps behind me.
"Sloane! Help!" Jessie rushed over like a cannonball, out of breath, her face flushed red with anxiety.
She grabbed my arm, pointing at the news on TV, speaking so fast it was like machine-gun fire: "That's the village! They just brought in a bunch of injured people, and it's really bad! Lots of severe head trauma and complex nerve compression injuries—we... we can't handle it! The director said only you can possibly save them!"
My heart sank.
As a doctor, I knew better than anyone that in this kind of major disaster, every single second meant a life.
"Okay, I'll go." I agreed without hesitation.
I rushed home as fast as I could, pulled a small suitcase from the closet, and started quickly packing essential clothes and some basic medical supplies.
I was stuffing some folded clothes into the suitcase when the bedroom door suddenly swung open.
Jared stood in the doorway, still wearing his perfectly tailored suit—clearly just back from the office. When his eyes landed on the suitcase at my feet, the tenderness that had appeared on his face at seeing me vanished completely, replaced by a terrifying darkness.
"Where are you going?" He walked toward me step by step, his voice as cold as if it had been pulled from an ice cellar.
I paused in my packing and looked up, meeting his stormy dark eyes.
"Leaving without a word again?" He stood before me, his tall figure casting an oppressively heavy shadow. In those deep eyes, I saw a fury of hurt and betrayal I'd never seen before.
My heart jumped. I instantly understood what he meant.
He thought I was going to leave without saying goodbye again, like before.
Looking at his tense jawline and the suppressed pain in his eyes, I suddenly felt both amused and heartbroken.
This man who was decisive and ruthless in business, who faced his entire family's accusations without flinching, was now panicking like a child afraid of being abandoned—all because I was packing a suitcase.
I put down what I was holding. Instead of explaining right away, I stood up and walked over to him.
Under his startled and slightly guarded gaze, I looked up, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed his tightly pressed lips.
His body remained stiff, but he didn't push me away.
I gently traced the shape of his lips with mine, patiently, tenderly, until I felt his tense body gradually relax. Only then did I pull back slightly, pressing my forehead against his, looking into his eyes still full of unease, and explained softly:
"It's not what you think. A village was hit by a disaster. There are many injured people, and the situation is serious. The hospital organized an emergency medical team for relief work. Jessie said some patients can only be treated by me."
The storm in his eyes didn't calm because of this. It just shifted from the anger of betrayal to an unquestionable opposition.
He grabbed my wrist, gripping so hard it felt like he might crush my bones, and pulled me away from the suitcase, saying word by word: "I won't allow it."
"Jared, I'm a doctor." I tried to make him understand that this wasn't some spontaneous trip—it was my duty. "Saving lives is my mission. There are many people waiting for me there."
"I don't care," he stubbornly held me in his arms, his dark eyes full of fear and domineering refusal. "No mission can make you go to such a dangerous place! I won't let you out of my sight."
The warmth we'd finally built between us seemed about to wear away in this stubborn standoff.
Looking at the panic in his eyes, I knew that arguing forcefully wouldn't solve anything.
I sighed, as if making some kind of decision. I raised my hand and gently placed it over his large hand on my waist, then guided it slowly downward until it rested on my flat stomach.
He looked confused, his brow furrowed, his palm stiffly pressed against my abdomen.
I met his puzzled gaze and, in a voice more gentle and solemn than ever before, told him clearly, word by word: "Jared, I'm pregnant."
Time seemed to freeze in that moment.
The dominance, unease, and stubbornness on his face—all those emotions shattered instantly when he heard those words.
Those deep dark eyes contracted violently, reflecting my calm face in his pupils, but filled with extreme shock and disbelief.
"I don't want to argue about mission and responsibility," I said softly, watching his dazed expression. "I just want to earn some good karma for our child."
The wild joy in his eyes lasted only a moment before being replaced by an even more overwhelming anger.
He jerked his hand back as if burned and stepped back, putting distance between us. The face that had just been overflowing with tenderness for me was now dark enough to drip water.
"When did you find out?" he asked, his voice terribly hoarse, each word seeming to be squeezed through his teeth. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Facing his questioning, I didn't dodge.
I knew I was in the wrong on this.
"That time I threw up at the restaurant, I had a feeling." I admitted honestly. "Later... I confirmed it."
"So you knew all along?" He let out a short, cold laugh, as if he'd heard the world's biggest joke. His dark eyes churned with hurt and self-mockery. "You'd rather tell Harrison, someone who has nothing to do with this, than tell me?"