Chapter 7 The Surge
Elizabeth's stomach churned violently, and before she could stop herself, she vomited—straight onto Armando.
His cold expression froze in place.
He looked down at the mess splattered across his clothes, eyes hardening into something sharp and dangerous.
Elizabeth covered her mouth, offering a quick explanation, though a flicker of satisfaction sparked inside her. "I've been feeling unwell these past few days."
Armando stripped off his soiled shirt with visible disgust, tossing it onto the floor. His broad, muscular frame was suddenly exposed, the tension in his shoulders making him look even more imposing.
Before leaving the study, his voice cut through the air like ice. "Move back to Emerald Park. If my grandmother finds out you moved out, I won't forgive you."
Moving back was out of the question.
Elizabeth had something far more urgent to do—find a safe place to terminate the pregnancy. Living in constant fear of being discovered was no longer an option.
Once she made up her mind, she acted fast.
She booked a flight to Emerald City that same day. That night, she boarded the plane, then took a cab to a small county town, reserving a room in a modest inn near Glory Hospital.
At dawn, when the doctors began their shifts, she registered for an appointment.
Feeling a little self-conscious, she leaned toward the nurse. "Gynecology, please. If possible, I'd like to see a female doctor. Thank you."
The nurse's tone was sharp with irritation. "If everyone insisted on a female doctor, we'd never get anywhere. Dr. Robinson is the only one available. Do you want the slot or not?"
Elizabeth's answer was clipped. "Yes."
This nurse was downright hostile.
She went upstairs to the second-floor clinic and waited. Just two patients ahead of her, her phone rang—Tom calling.
"Ms. Penrose, why haven't you come in to work today?"
"I've already submitted my resignation. I'm using my remaining vacation days."
She added, "Mr. Davis, I'm traveling right now. I'll be back in a week to hand over my work. Thanks for covering for me."
She ended the call without hesitation.
Tom stayed silent for a moment before passing the message to Armando, who was buried in work.
"Mr. Johnson, Ms. Penrose said she's traveling and will return in a week to finalize the handover."
Armando frowned, lifted his coffee, took a sip, and grimaced. "Who made this? Get me a fresh cup."
Tom swapped the cup for a new one, then had the secretary prepare another. It took four tries before Armando finally accepted it.
Tom couldn't help thinking Armando was simply used to Elizabeth's coffee.
"Book me a restaurant for tonight. I'm meeting Sherry. And get me a bouquet of roses."
Tom blinked. Roses?
Maybe he was wrong—maybe Sherry was still the one Armando cared about most.
He composed himself and nodded. Before leaving, he glanced at Armando. "Elizabeth has always done well. Don't regret this later."
Tom wasn't speaking as an employee now, but as a college friend.
Armando's gaze was cool. "Why would I regret it? I've always loved Sherry."
Regret? He scoffed.
Elizabeth knew nothing of this exchange.
The nurse opened the door. "Number thirty, Ms. Penrose?"
Elizabeth nodded and stepped inside—only to hear another nurse, Isla, giggling. "Dr. Robinson, you're terrible."
Elizabeth shivered, uneasy.
Her eyes landed on Timothy, and recognition hit. She'd seen him before—in the elevator. Now, he was in a white coat, tall and broad-shouldered, his long legs carrying him to the sink where he washed his hands with meticulous precision. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms inked with a black mamba coiled around a single rose.
Elizabeth stared. She'd never seen a doctor with tattoos this bold… and this menacing.
Timothy, masked, arched a brow when he saw her. What was she doing in a place like Emerald City for treatment?
He sat back down, drying his hands with deliberate ease. "What's wrong?"
She didn't answer.
Another raised brow. "Sore throat? Lost your voice?"
Elizabeth's voice was steady but quiet. "I'm here for an abortion."
Timothy said nothing.
Elizabeth blinked, equally silent.
Unexpected.
"First pregnancy? Any children before?"
"First. No children."
"Last menstrual period?"
"Late April, I think."
"Have you confirmed with a test?"
"Yes."
He asked about her medical history, then said, "We'll do an ultrasound."
Elizabeth nodded. No point wasting time now.
She followed the nurse behind the curtain, removed her shoes, and lay on the examination bed, pulling her shirt up to expose her abdomen.
Timothy, now gloved, applied gel to her skin. The cool touch made her tense, her breathing shifting with the sensation.
"Relax," he murmured.
When the scan was complete, he spoke slowly. "You have two options—surgical or medical abortion."
Elizabeth had already researched this. "Surgical."
Her voice was cool, though her fingers trembled.
Timothy noticed, his brow lifting. "We can do it tomorrow afternoon."
Elizabeth wiped the gel from her stomach with tissues. "Fine."
Her hands shook harder now. For once, Timothy offered something almost kind. "If you don't want to go through with it, you could keep the baby."
"My husband is abusive. Keeping it would only mean suffering."
She straightened her clothes with detached calm.
"That's rough," Timothy said, his tone flat, simply stating a fact.
"Yes. Rough."
He pulled the curtain aside and left.
Elizabeth watched his tall frame retreat, a dream from days ago stirring unbidden in her mind. She cut the thought short, asking herself if that was a kind of betrayal.
Timothy entered notes into the computer, then explained the precautions for surgical abortion in detail.
Elizabeth listened closely.
He glanced at her name, pausing for a moment. "I have a nephew whose wife's name is also Elizabeth."
Armando's mother, Beatrix Robinson, had complicated ties to the Robinson family.
Elizabeth frowned.
Timothy didn't elaborate. He'd only heard the name in passing during a conversation with members of the Robinson family. He wasn't close to them, and barely knew Armando.
Elizabeth's eyes widened. His surname was Robinson. Beatrix's was Robinson too.
The Robinsons lived in Border Ridge City—a circle Elizabeth had never been part of. Even after years with Armando, she'd never met any of them.
Could it really be a coincidence?
Unease prickled at her.
"Dr. Robinson, you must be joking. I'm not married."
She wrote "single" on her medical form. This wasn't the time to slip.
His gaze was unreadable.
Counting the dates, the child in her womb could be his.
Elizabeth didn't know why, but the way Timothy looked at her made her scalp tingle.