Chapter 69 The ghost of a former life
The afternoon sun was uncharacteristically sharp, casting long, jagged shadows across the pavement as I walked toward the clinic. Despite the warmth, a prickle of unease danced along my spine. It was a sensation I couldn’t shake—the feeling of eyes pressed against the back of my neck, watching my every stride. I stopped twice to adjust my bag, glancing over my shoulder at the rows of parked cars and the swaying jacaranda trees, but the street remained deceptively still.
You’re just paranoid, Elena, I whispered to myself, pressing a hand to my stomach. The stress is playing tricks on your mind.
Entering the clinic felt like stepping into a different dimension, one where the air was filtered and the chaos of the Jenkins family or Victor’s silence couldn't reach me. I was greeted by Nurse, a woman whose steady presence had become a small anchor for me over the last few weeks.
"Back so soon, Elena?" she asked with a knowing smile as she led me into the examination room. "You’re early for the routine check, but I suppose a mother’s heart doesn't follow a calendar."
"I just needed to be sure," I said, hopping onto the table. "With everything going on... I needed to know the baby is handling the stress better than I am."
"Well, let’s take a look," she said, snapping on her gloves. She began the routine checks, her movements efficient and practiced. "Blood pressure is a bit high, honey. You’ve been running marathons in your head again, haven't you?"
"Something like that," I admitted, watching her wrap the cuff around my arm.
"You need to breathe," Nurse said, her eyes meeting mine with maternal firmness. "Whatever is happening outside these walls, this little one only knows what you feel. If you’re a storm, they’re in the middle of it. How's the nausea?"
"Better. But the dizziness comes and goes."
"That’s the iron dropping or the nerves spiking. I’m going to update your vitamins," she noted, scribbling on a chart. She paused, looking at me kindly. "The heartbeat we heard last time was strong. You’re doing a good job, Elena. Don't let the world convince you otherwise."
"Thank you, Nurse. I... I needed to hear that today."
After the check-up, I walked out of the consultation room feeling a fraction lighter. The baby was fine. The heartbeat was a steady, defiant drum. But as I pushed through the glass double doors of the clinic and stepped into the parking lot, the lightness vanished.
Standing by a sleek, silver coupe was a woman who looked like she had stepped off the pages of a high-fashion editorial. I recognized her instantly Camilla. The woman who had visited the mansion months ago, the one who had occupied the space in Victor’s life long before I was even a thought. She was the "ex" who carried herself with the effortless grace of old money and inherited confidence.
She saw me and didn't look away. Instead, she straightened and walked toward me, her designer heels clicking with a predatory rhythm on the asphalt.
"Elena, isn't it?" she asked, stopping a few feet away. Her voice was like silk smooth, but capable of strangling.
"Camilla," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"I was nearby and saw you walking in. I wanted to see how you were holding up," she said, her eyes drifting momentarily to my midsection before returning to my face. "I heard Victor finally made it to Istanbul. The surgery is today, isn't it?"
"It is," I said, a defensive wall rising in my chest. "He reached Istanbul safely. I spoke with him before he went under. He was... determined."
Camilla let out a soft, melodic laugh that didn't reach her eyes. "He always was. Victor doesn't know how to lose. But Istanbul is a long way away, Elena. And a spine is a very delicate thing."
"He’s strong," I countered. "He has everything to live for."
"Of course," she said, tilting her head. "I truly do wish the surgery goes perfectly. I want him to walk again. Victor was never meant to be a prisoner of that chair. He belongs in the world the real world. The boardrooms, the galas, the life he was born for."
She stepped a bit closer, the scent of her expensive perfume cloying in the afternoon heat. "Just remember, Elena... recovery changes a man. When Victor was in that basement, you were his window to the world. You were the 'sunshine' in his dark room. But once the sun comes out and he’s standing on his own two feet... the view changes. He might find that he doesn't need a window anymore when he can simply walk out the door."
I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. "Victor isn't like that."
"Isn't he?" she smiled, a thin, pitying expression. "He’s a Blackwood. They are loyal to their ambitions first. Anyway, I’ve said my piece,Goodbye, Elena."
She turned on her heel and glided back to her car without a backward glance. I stood in the middle of the parking lot, the roar of her engine echoing in my ears as she sped away.
I stood there for a long time, the silence of the lot feeling heavier than the noise. Her words the view changes vibrated in my mind, perfectly syncing with the rhythm of my father’s warnings from the night before.
I thought about Victor’s face when he talked about the bucket list. I thought about the way he looked at me in the basement. But then, I thought about the man my father knew the man who would see my "betrayal" of Liam as a stain on my character.
What if they were all right?
What if I had sacrificed my reputation and my family’s peace for a man who was only loving me out of necessity? What if the "Elena" he loved was just a temporary fix for his broken spirit?
I touched my stomach again, the sonogram in my bag feeling like a heavy secret. As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of bruised purple and orange, I realized I was terrified. Not of the Jenkins, not of the surgery, but of the man Victor might become when he no longer needed me to hold his hand.
I walked toward the bus stop, my father’s voice echoing in my head like a funeral knell.
“she'll remember Liam. That Victor boy loved Elena’s company, not who she was.”
The road ahead was a blur. The surgery was happening, the baby was growing, but for the first time, I felt like the "sunshine" was finally starting to fade.