Chapter 57 I'm Pregnant. What Should I Do?
"Take a closer look at the man in this photo. He's the one who drove drunk and slammed into Elizabeth."
Armando's gaze never left Sherry's face. He saw her lips part in a sharp breath of surprise.
"What are the odds?"
"Wait... you think it was me? That I told him to hit Elizabeth?"
Her voice cracked with disbelief, tears spilling down her cheeks. "How can you accuse me based on a single photo? I don't even know this man."
She pressed her lips together, turned toward the door, and paused at the threshold. Her voice trembled as she kept her back to him. "Why would I have someone run Elizabeth down? What would I gain from that? You're already divorced from her. She's no threat to me."
The door closed behind her.
Armando rubbed at his brow. That was the part he couldn't make sense of—why Sherry would ever order someone to kill Elizabeth. Maybe someone had planted the photo to stir trouble.
Sherry left the Johnson Group, slid into the back of her car, and pressed the button to raise the privacy screen. Her eyes hardened as she stared at the photo in her hand.
She couldn't sit back and wait for whatever was coming.
Lowering the screen, she told the driver, "Faith Residence."
Elizabeth lived there.
Elizabeth hadn't gone to work that day. Armando's deal with Yosef was an obvious choice for anyone with half a brain. She was halfway through lunch when Sherry's voice on the phone killed her appetite.
"Elizabeth, I'm downstairs at Faith Residence. We need to talk."
"I don't think we're that close. What's there to talk about?" Elizabeth's tone was lazy as she stepped out onto her balcony. Sherry tilted her head up to meet her eyes.
"It's about the accident," Sherry said softly, lips curling into a faint smile.
Elizabeth's fingers tightened around the balcony railing, her knuckles blanching. "Fine."
She hung up, changed clothes, and headed downstairs.
Sherry watched her approach—short-sleeved top, flared pants, narrow waist and a sway in her hips that made her grit her teeth. Men were visual creatures, and Elizabeth knew it.
"Go ahead. What do you want to tell me about the accident?"
Elizabeth stood over her by an inch, the height difference giving her an edge.
"Are you sure you want to talk here?"
Elizabeth led her toward the park beside the building. It was empty at this hour—most people at work or school, the elderly only coming in the mornings or evenings.
She sat on a bench. "Now you can talk."
Sherry pulled a photo from her bag and handed it over.
Elizabeth studied it, forcing down the surge of anger in her chest. Her brow lifted in feigned disinterest. "One photo. And?"
Sherry's expression shifted as if she'd just remembered something. "Right... I forgot you lost your memory."
She took out her phone, pulled up the news report from the crash, and tapped the image.
The blood was still vivid in the photo.
Elizabeth's eyes went cold. "And?"
Sherry watched her reaction closely. She'd always suspected Elizabeth's memory loss was an act, but so far she'd seen no sign of it.
"The man in your hand was the driver who hit you. We were at the scene and saw his face."
Usually in accidents like that, the driver died instantly, and the news pixelated the face.
"Quinton was brave. He saved you. Too bad you forgot him when you lost your memory," Sherry said with a sigh.
Elizabeth shot to her feet and slapped her hard.
Sherry froze, stunned by the force of it.
"Sherry, that girl in the photo is you, isn't it?" Elizabeth's voice was ice. "You brought this to me to say the crash was connected to you?"
Sherry clutched her cheek. "It wasn't. I don't know this man. I was buying a violin for Armando back then, and someone must have snapped us when I asked him for directions."
"How convenient," Elizabeth said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
She'd always known Sherry had a hand in the crash. There had never been proof. Even now, the photo wouldn't hold up in court.
From the moment she woke after the accident, Elizabeth had carried the intent to strip Sherry of everything she valued—piece by piece. Getting close to Armando was part of that plan, to make Sherry nervous.
"Elizabeth, I only came here to clear things up. I really don't know him," Sherry said again, voice soft, hand still pressed to her cheek.
Armando arrived after Kade called to say Sherry's mood was off. He caught the tail end of her explanation.
Elizabeth raised her hand to strike again, but Armando caught her wrist. "Elizabeth, don't go hitting people without reason."
"Armando," Sherry's voice wavered, "I just wanted to explain to her myself."
"I know. Go wait in the car," he said, his tone gentler now.
Relief flickered in Sherry's eyes. This move had worked.
Elizabeth wasn't stupid. She immediately connected Armando's sudden demand that she leave Silverlight City to this. He was afraid she'd retaliate against Sherry.
"Let go." She tamped down the urge to drive a knife into them both.
"Elizabeth, this photo might be someone's attempt to target me. Sherry has no reason to have you killed," Armando said, releasing her wrist.
Elizabeth's gaze was cold. "Why do you want me out of Silverlight City?"
He said nothing.
"I've lost my memory, Armando, but I'm not brainless. Pursuing you was the dumbest thing I've done."
Her nails dug into her palm. The plan had rattled Sherry, but it had cost her too. Trash and trash—what a perfect match.
Whoever had found that photo... she owed them thanks.
"I'm not leaving Silverlight City."
Armando watched her walk away, a knot of unease twisting in his gut.
Timothy had just stepped out of surgery when his phone rang.
"Sherry took that photo to Elizabeth. Armando was there too," Joe reported.
Timothy's brow lifted slightly. Sherry was resourceful.
"Where is Elizabeth now?"
"Ms. Penrose is at the mall... picking out kitchen knives."
That made him pause.
Still in his white coat, he left the hospital and headed for her. Knives? Now?
Halfway there, Emma called.
"Mr. Robinson... can you come?"
Something in her voice was off.
"I'm busy," he said flatly.
Her muffled sob came through the line.
"I... I'm pregnant. What do I do?"