Chapter 171 Followed to the Hospital
Sophie's voice crackled through the phone, tight with worry. "Liv, Jack's running a fever. I just checked—101°F. He won't stop crying."
Olivia's heart seized. "Take him to the hospital right now. I'm leaving now."
She didn't wait for Sophie's response. Her fingers flew across the screen.
[Frank, my son's sick with a fever. I need to leave immediately.]
Inside the convention center, Frank sat rigid in his seat, trying to look composed while sweat gathered at his temples. Olivia's message lit up his phone like a flare.
He leaned forward toward Ethan. "Mr. Bennett, Liv's son is sick. We need to leave. My apologies."
Ethan turned his head, and something shifted in his expression—the cold distance melting into something almost warm. "You shouldn't have to cut your evening short, Mr. Miller. I'm free. I'll take her."
Frank blinked. "That's—that's very generous of you, Mr. Bennett."
Outside the main hall, Olivia stood near the entrance, scanning the corridor for Frank.
Footsteps approached from behind—measured, confident, expensive shoes on marble.
She turned.
Ethan Bennett strode toward her in a perfectly tailored navy suit. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs eating up the distance between them.
At thirty-six, he looked the same as he had at twenty-eight. Same lean build, same sharp edges.
When he got close enough, she noticed something different. His hair. Yesterday in the car, she'd spotted threads of silver at his temples. Now—gone. Dyed back to that rich dark brown.
She looked away fast, fixing her eyes on the wall.
He stopped beside her, too close. "How's your son? Is it serious?"
She kept her gaze neutral, forcing herself to meet his eyes without flinching. "Just a cold. Nothing major."
"Let me drive you."
"No, thank you." The words came out flat. "I appreciate the offer, but I've already called—"
"Olivia." He smiled, but his eyes held something darker. "What are you afraid of?"
Her spine stiffened. She lifted her chin, meeting his stare head-on. "I'm not afraid of anything. We're done. We've been done for—"
Five years. The words caught in her throat.
He leaned down, bringing his face level with hers, that smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. His voice dropped lower, intimate and mocking. "Then why are you scared to get in my car?"
She pulled out her phone, checking the rideshare app. Five hundred meters away. Almost here.
Ethan stood beside her, hands in his pockets, watching her with that infuriating amusement. "You know what I think, Liv? I think you still love me."
She kept her eyes on her phone.
"If you didn't," he continued, his tone casual, conversational, "getting in my car wouldn't be a problem. But you won't. Because you're not over me."
The car pulled up to the curb—a silver Camry, blessedly ordinary. She didn't spare him another glance. Just walked down the steps, pulled open the back door, and slid inside.
One smooth motion. In, door shut, locked.
Ethan stood on the curb, hands still in his pockets, watching the taillights disappear into LA traffic.
His gambit failed
---
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and fear. Olivia found Sophie in the pediatric waiting area, Jack cradled in her lap, his small body curled against her chest.
"Mommy!" His voice cracked, hoarse from crying.
She crossed the room in three strides and lifted him into her arms. His forehead burned against her palm. "Baby, I'm here. Mommy's here now."
He buried his face in her neck, his little fingers clutching her blazer.
Sophie stood, her expression apologetic. "I picked him up from daycare, and he seemed fine at first. Just quiet. I thought maybe he missed you. But at dinner, he only ate a few bites and then went to lie down on the couch. That's when I heard him crying."
"Kids get sick fast this time of year." Olivia pressed her lips to Jack's hot cheek. "You did everything right."
A nurse called them in. Thirty minutes later, they walked out with a prescription for children's Tylenol and instructions to monitor his temperature. Nothing serious.
But when they stepped into the hallway, Olivia stopped cold.
Ethan Bennett stood near the nurses' station, hands in his pockets, looking like he'd been waiting.
Sophie's eyes went wide. She recovered fast, stepping forward with a professional smile. "Mr. Bennett."
Ethan nodded once, polite but distant. "Ms. Taylor."
Sophie stepped back, giving them space.
He moved toward Olivia, his gaze dropping to Jack in her arms. "Is he okay?"
She walked past him without answering, heading for the exit.
Sophie grabbed her purse and hurried after her. "What the hell? Is Ethan Bennett trying to—"
"No," Olivia said flatly. "Don't read into it."
Sophie glanced back over her shoulder. "Liv, the man followed you to the hospital."
"Let me carry him." Ethan caught up, his expression carefully neutral.
"I'm fine." She shifted Jack higher. "Thank you for your concern, but—"
"You can barely hold him." His voice gentled. "And he's sick. The longer you carry him, the more uncomfortable he'll be. Wait here. I'll bring the car around."
She opened her mouth to argue.
Sophie's hand landed on her shoulder. "Your son is sick. Swallow your pride."
Ethan was already walking toward the parking lot.
A minute later, a black Maybach pulled up.
He got out and moved to the rear passenger door, opening it with one hand while the other rested on the top edge of the frame—protective, careful. His eyes found Olivia's.
She climbed in, Jack still clutched against her. Sophie slid in from the other side.
The door closed with a soft, final click.
The engine purred to life. Smooth. Controlled.
Olivia looked down at Jack, brushing his damp hair off his forehead. "Does it still hurt, baby?"
His voice came out small and tired. "I feel better, Mommy."
She kissed his temple. "Good boy. When we get home, you'll take your medicine, and tomorrow, the bad germs will be all gone."
In the front seat, Ethan's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror.
His gaze softened—just for a second—and something painful flickered across his face.
Five years ago, they'd lost a baby. If that child had lived, he'd be four years old now.
The same age as Jack.
"How old is he?" His voice stayed calm, detached.
Olivia didn't look up from Jack's face. "Four."
"When was he born?"
Her head snapped up. Her tone turned sharp. "That's none of your business."
Ethan's mouth twitched. His throat worked as he swallowed.
Five years ago, she'd gambled with their child's life to escape him. And now, five years later, she had a son who couldn't possibly be his.
He said nothing else.
When they reached her neighborhood, Olivia spoke up. "You can stop here. It's hard to find parking inside."
"Okay."
He pulled over smoothly, put the car in park.
She reached for the door handle.
"Let me carry him." Ethan was already out of the car, moving toward her door.
She held Jack tighter. "No, thank you."
His hand, halfway extended, dropped back to his side.
Sophie broke the silence. "Mr. Bennett, would you like to come up?"
"I have something to take care of."