Chapter 5 The Unsettling Dream
"Are you sure? Did she go to the hospital for a check-up?" Bronte pressed, unwilling to let the matter drop.
Elizabeth stepped out of the restroom, her expression composed, though only she knew how tense and unsettled she truly felt.
"Elizabeth, are you pregnant?"
Bronte's gaze dropped to her stomach, her voice edged with hope.
Elizabeth gave a faint smile and shook her head. "Grandma, I did go to the hospital. It's just a minor stomach issue."
Bronte's shoulders sagged with mild disappointment, though she knew it wasn't something that could be forced. "You need to take care of yourself. Watch your diet these days."
Elizabeth nodded. As she fed Bronte slices of fruit, Armando stepped out to take a call.
When Bronte had finished eating and chatting for a while, Elizabeth carried the empty bowl out of the room.
Passing through the lounge, she caught the sound of Mindy's mocking tone.
"Armando, I overheard Grandma talking about babies," Mindy said with clear irritation. "She must be losing her mind. As if Elizabeth's even worthy."
Armando's eyes flicked toward Mindy, a warning in his gaze. He didn't care if she insulted Elizabeth, but disrespect toward Bronte was unacceptable.
Mindy shrank back slightly, sticking out her tongue. "Sorry, Armando. I was just feeling bad for you."
"She's not pregnant," Armando said flatly.
"I knew you'd never let her get pregnant."
Satisfied, Mindy turned to leave. She opened the door and found Elizabeth standing there, her brows arching in disdain.
"You're a woman you bought with money... you don't deserve to give birth to a Johnson heir Keep your place, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth lowered her voice, calm but cutting. "Mindy, Armando's cock doesn't work. Of course there won't be a baby... you understand?"
"You!" Mindy's eyes blazed. "You disgusting woman, stop talking nonsense."
Elizabeth's lips curved into a smile. "Not nonsense. First-hand experience."
Mindy's face darkened further. "Shameless. You're not fit to be Armando's wife—you're nothing compared to Sherry."
"You're right. I'm nothing like your Sherry. And yet, I'm still Mrs. Johnson." Elizabeth's smile didn't falter.
"You—"
Mindy's hand shot up, aiming a slap at Elizabeth's face—that face she thought could draw any man in.
Elizabeth's reflexes were quick. She raised the empty bowl in her hand, blocking the blow.
Mindy's delicate hand smacked the ceramic, and she yelped in pain.
The lounge door opened. Armando stepped inside.
"She hit me with a bowl! Look—it's swollen and red!" Mindy's eyes glistened, playing the victim.
"She hit the bowl on her own," Elizabeth said evenly.
Armando's gaze swept over Elizabeth. "Elizabeth, remember your place."
"What place?" she asked, her tone cool.
"Mindy is my sister."
His words had barely left his mouth when Elizabeth lifted her hand and slapped her own right cheek hard. The sound cracked through the air.
A red mark bloomed instantly. She hadn't held back.
Armando froze, caught off guard.
Mindy smirked at Elizabeth before strutting out in her heels.
Elizabeth, face impassive, turned to leave with the bowl.
"Wait." His voice stopped her.
Armando's sharp eyes studied her. She took an uneasy step back.
He pulled out his phone and made a call. Elizabeth caught enough of his words to realize something was wrong.
When he hung up, he said, "Ms. Penrose, let's head to the gynecology clinic for a check-up. How does that sound?"
Elizabeth's mind went blank. If he accused her of hiding a pregnancy to secure her position as the Johnson family's matriarch, she'd be trapped.
She had meant to terminate the pregnancy quietly.
Now what?
Her scalp prickled.
Armando moved toward the elevator. When Elizabeth didn't follow, his voice cut through the air. "Ms. Penrose?"
She clutched her stomach. "I'm having some stomach trouble... need the restroom first."
She hurried inside, mind racing.
In desperation, she sent a text.
It read: [Ms. Scott, Armando is taking me to the gynecology clinic. We're preparing for IVF.]
She pocketed her phone, her expression unreadable. She didn't believe Sherry would ignore this.
Elizabeth lingered in the restroom for fifteen minutes. Armando called to hurry her.
She clutched her stomach, her voice faint. "Stop rushing me. My stomach's been acting up these past few days."
Armando's brows drew together, his eyes narrowing. "Elizabeth, don't play games."
When she judged the timing right, she washed her hands and took the elevator to the clinic.
Armando was waiting outside. "Let's go in."
Sherry didn't show.
Elizabeth steadied herself. If she was found out, so be it.
They opened the doctor's door—Armando's phone rang.
"Sherry, slow down... what happened? Alright, I'm coming."
His eyes flicked to Elizabeth's still-red cheek before he turned and left without hesitation.
Elizabeth took that look as a warning.
Leaving the hospital, she checked the entertainment news. Sherry had been tackled by an obsessed male fan; her hand was broken.
No wonder Armando rushed to her.
Back at the hotel, Elizabeth stepped into the elevator and saw a man holding a cup of coffee.
His gaze lingered on her swollen cheek without shame.
She felt a flicker of embarrassment but didn't look away. "I know I'm gorgeous."
Timothy's lips curved into a faint smile. He sipped his coffee, the movement of his throat smooth and deliberate.
"You look familiar."
Elizabeth watched the numbers climb. "That's a cheap pickup line."
"I don't need pickup lines," Timothy said lazily. "I'm just telling the truth."
She studied him in the mirrored wall, puzzled. She had no memory of him.
He stepped closer, his presence pressing against her.
Elizabeth backed up. "Something you need?" Her voice was tight.
He met her eyes, removed his mask, and revealed strikingly handsome features.
Her breath caught. He was close enough for her to catch the faint scent of pine.
"Really don't know me?"
"No."
Timothy straightened, giving her a sidelong glance.
The elevator doors opened on the tenth floor. He stepped aside, and she left quickly.
Still, doubt lingered. She truly didn't know that man... but he seemed to know her.
Later, fresh from the shower, she heard the doorbell.
A hotel staff member stood outside. "A resident on the twelfth floor asked us to deliver this face cream to Ms. Penrose."
"Thanks."
Elizabeth accepted the cream, her confusion deepening. She didn't use it—after all, they weren't close.
That night, she dreamed.
The suite had been stiflingly warm, her skin damp with sweat.
The man held her by the waist.
Her alcohol-fogged mind blurred everything.
When she woke, she rubbed her temples.
The dream had unsettled her. Armando's face had been there… until it shifted into the man from the elevator.