Chapter 106 Yes, I Am Pregnant
Colette sat collapsed on the ground. With her secrets exposed, she had no idea which way to turn.
Rosewood City was small, and the powerful families were few. She'd taken money from one household and crossed another—neither would let her off the hook. She might not be brilliant, but she wasn't stupid enough to miss that.
"Quinley, this has nothing to do with me. Please don't drag me into this." She begged pitifully, tears streaming down her face.
Quinley wasn't heartless, but she understood that misplaced mercy was just giving others a chance to hurt you. Her cold eyes locked onto Colette, unrelenting. This woman was the weak link—Quinley had to break her.
So right in front of Colette, she pulled out her phone. "Since you can't decide, I'll decide for you. Landon doesn't know the truth yet, does he? What do you think he'd do if I told him everything? Would he let you two walk away?"
Threats had a funny way of working chemical magic. Colette panicked even more, dropping to her knees and kowtowing. "Quinley... please, please don't tell Mr. Jennings! If he finds out, he'll kill us both!"
"I won't tell him. But you have to tell me who's been pulling your strings."
Quinley had backed Colette into a corner with no escape. Colette hung her head in agony. Quinley crossed her arms, not rushing her at all, just watching with that icy stare.
She was famous for her patience. This was psychological warfare—whoever broke first lost. Sure enough, within fifteen minutes, Colette made her choice.
"It was Mr. Davis. Mr. Davis told me to do it."
Exactly what Quinley had expected. "Why did he want you to do this?" she pressed.
Colette's head drooped lower. "He told me to pretend the baby was Landon's, and he'd handle the rest. Mr. Davis wanted me to... to seduce Landon."
Seduce Landon, and you'd have Apex Global Group. To get that prize, Harold really would use any dirty trick in the book.
"Good." The coldness in Quinley's eyes deepened. She pulled out her phone and transferred a hundred thousand dollars to Colette.
When Colette saw the notification, her expression changed instantly. "You said two hundred thousand! Why is it only a hundred?"
Quinley remained perfectly calm, shrugging. "You said Harold made you do it. I need proof."
Colette hesitated. If she handed over evidence, she'd be implicated. She was the type who got something good and immediately wanted better.
But in this world, nobody got to hoard all the advantages. Colette had hit a wall with Landon—going back to him was impossible. And Harold was the type to burn bridges—once her usefulness ended, she'd be discarded.
Quinley was gambling that Colette would eventually come to her side willingly.
"I recorded it. On another phone. I'll send it to you when I get home." Colette's voice was barely a whisper.
Openly opposing Harold meant living on a knife's edge. But right now, she desperately needed money. The two hundred thousand Quinley offered was too tempting to resist.
"Fine. Send me the audio, and I'll transfer the rest." Quinley turned to leave.
Colette scrambled up from the ground and hurried after her, spreading her arms to block Quinley's path again.
"Is there something else?" Quinley frowned.
She didn't like clingy, greedy people. Colette's posture had become incredibly humble—Quinley was her lifeline, and she had to cling tight.
"You said we could run away. Where should we go? Have you already arranged it?"
When Colette said that, Quinley couldn't help but laugh. She wanted everything without any sense of reality.
"Colette, if I arranged a place for you, would you even dare to go?" Quinley shot back.
Colette froze again. "Then... where can we go? Where won't they find us?"
She had guts but also caved easily. Quinley sighed. "Where you go is your business. How to avoid being found—that's something you need to figure out yourself. Send me the audio when you find it, and I'll transfer the rest. As of today, we never met. Take care of yourself."
Quinley didn't waste another word on Colette. She walked away quickly. Less than an hour after getting home, Colette sent over the audio file.
The recording was crystal clear—Harold's cold voice came through unmistakably. The evidence was damning, proof of blatant framing. If Quinley handed this to the police, Zachary would be cleared immediately.
But she couldn't. Not yet. Acting too hastily would backfire—she'd always understood that.
That afternoon, Quinley called David herself. "Mr. Brown, are you free later? I'm not feeling well and want to get checked at the hospital. Could you come with me?"
Her reaching out for help made David ecstatic. "Quinny, for you, I'll make time even if I don't have any. Wait at home—I'll come pick you up right now."
Within half an hour, he'd driven to the downtown apartment. Quinley was already waiting downstairs.
"What's wrong? Where don't you feel well?" David asked anxiously the moment she got in the car.
Quinley's cool gaze landed on David's face, calm as still water. "I felt a bit dizzy earlier. I'm better now."
"Quinny, I'm really happy you called me." David beamed. Quinley just smiled faintly.
They arrived at the hospital quickly. David had contacted a doctor in advance, and Quinley was led straight into the examination room. She wasn't actually sick—she was staging a performance.
Sure enough, when she came out of the examination room, someone suddenly pulled out a phone and started taking pictures. What's more, there was a blogger livestreaming.
"The Brown Group's youngest son, David Brown, who recently announced his engagement, appeared today at Serenity Health Center's obstetrics department with his fiancée. Everyone, care to guess if they have good news to share?"
The blogger narrated, then moved closer to Quinley. David immediately rushed over, pulling Quinley protectively into his arms.
"Hey, what the hell are you doing?" he snapped at the blogger.
The blogger kept streaming, turning the camera on David and Quinley. "Dr. Brown, you're accompanying Ms. Elikin to obstetrics—is it because she's already pregnant?"
The blogger had millions of followers. Comments flooded the screen in waves. David looked flustered. "None of your damn business!"
He tried to push the camera away, but Quinley spoke up. "Yes, I am pregnant."
In that instant, David was stunned. He stared at Quinley in disbelief. "Quinny?"
Quinley nodded at him, then continued. "We originally planned to share this news after the wedding. But since everyone's already seen us, we don't want to keep you guessing."
David looked completely frozen throughout. This Quinley seemed completely different from usual. He didn't understand why she'd chosen this moment to announce the pregnancy.
Though confused, he played along. "Yes, the baby just arrived. We hope everyone will give us their blessings." He smiled awkwardly.
After leaving obstetrics, David's face darkened for the first time. Quinley knew he was unhappy, but she didn't care one bit about his feelings.
David liked her—that was true enough. But David hated Zachary—that was even more true.
With Zachary being framed, outsiders only saw Quinley as ungrateful. But what about the puppet masters hiding in the shadows? Was David really not among them? Quinley didn't believe that for a second.
The only way to protect this child was to announce its existence. So she had to take the risk.
"Quinny, why did you admit it just now? Aren't you worried about what people will say?" Once in the car, David's brow was furrowed like a caterpillar. He suppressed his anger, asking in a muffled voice.
Quinley acted nonchalant. "I don't like hiding things. Besides, didn't you say you'd treat this child as your own? What's wrong? Are you unhappy?"
She turned the tables on him. David was unhappy, but he wouldn't admit it. He definitely wouldn't contradict what he'd said before.
"How could I be unhappy? I'm just worried that some people will make up stories and smear you. Quinny, I don't want to see you get hurt."
These sweet words had long lost their effect on Quinley. "You'll protect me and this baby. How could I get hurt?"
Quinley kept her eyes locked on David's. A man's promises couldn't be trusted, but having promises was better than having none at all.