Chapter 157 I'm pregnant
June
Ted pauses for a long moment, like he’s rearranging thoughts in his head. Then he rubs his forehead and sighs.
"June— I can call you that, right?"
I nod stiffly.
"To clear up some misunderstandings… Natalya was never Hermes’s girlfriend. They never dated."
I blink. Once. Twice.
What?
"This marriage is— argh—" He gestures helplessly. "Natalya and Hermes were friends. Childhood friends, actually. Hermes saw her like a sister… a close one. But Natalya took it too far. Back in college, Hermes liked someone—really liked her. He told Natalya about it. And Natalya sabotaged the girl. Got her drunk. Set her up with some guy. Took a video. Showed Hermes the tape."
My arms fold across my chest on instinct.
Each sentence feels like a slap.
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t… this.
"Hermes found out it was her," Ted continues quietly. "He cut her off. Completely. Cut everyone off, honestly. Until he returned home months ago."
I stare at him. I can’t believe half of what I’m hearing, but I’m also too tired to care about Natalya’s villain origin story.
"So?" I shrug, my voice flat, unimpressed. "How does that explain anything?"
Ted exhales, shoulders slumping.
"What I’m trying to tell you is that this marriage doesn’t come from love. It’s a planned marriage. Strategic, arranged.
Hermes still loves you and—"
"Well how does that help me if he’s getting married?" I spit, the words bursting out before I can hold them back.
It hurts. God, it hurts that he can say it like it’s some small detail—that Hermes is marrying the woman who destroyed him, even though he supposedly loves me.
Ted snaps. "Because he doesn’t believe it’s worth it!"
I freeze.
Ted’s expression softens instantly as he adds, quiet and controlled, "He has a condition."
My stomach drops.
"He is—"
"Well, I’m pregnant."
The words tear out of me before I know I’m speaking.
Ted’s eyes go wide.
I bite down on my lip, hard. My hands tremble as I lower one to my stomach, pressing gently—like that will make this easier to say.
"Tell him I’m pregnant with his baby."
My voice cracks.
"Now will that change anything, Doctor Ted?"
I watch him step back as though I just slapped him, his whole face rearranging into shock. His lips part—once, twice—but nothing comes out.
"Uhm— I think I need to make a call. I’ll be right back in a minute."
And just like that, he hurries out of my house.
The door clicks shut.
I let out a long, shaky sigh.
"Great. Brilliant. Just amazing," I mutter to myself as I drag a hand through my hair. "Now you’ve told him everything. Well done, June."
I look up at the ceiling as if it can scold me properly for losing control. I’m still irritated—no, hurt—that he came all the way here just to hand me excuses for Hermes. Excuses I didn’t ask for.
My throat feels like sandpaper. I head to the kitchen and gulp down water, trying to wet my dry, brittle tongue. It doesn’t help. Nothing feels like it helps.
Then— I hear a knock.
I exhale loudly, rolling my eyes. "Doctor Ted," I mutter, already walking toward the door. "You didn’t need to knock, seriously—"
But when I swing the door open…
It isn’t Ted.
Instead it's huge man in a dark suit standing, He's broad, rough jaw, with no smile.
I freeze, as my hand tightens on the doorknob.
"Who… are you?" I manage, my voice smaller than I’d like it to be.
I try to lean sideways, to see if Ted is behind him, but I see no one.
The man grunts.
"Someone who needs your help."
My brows pinch, confusion twisting in my stomach.
"What—?"
Before I can finish, my phone rings from somewhere behind me. I reach to get it but then— A sting. It's sharp, and sudden, right at the side of my neck.
I gasp, my fingers flying up to touch the spot, but my arm suddenly feels too heavy.
"What…" My voice slurs. "What’s… happening…"
My vision sways. The doorway tilts, and the man grows blurrier.
I force my eyes toward the sound of my phone, desperate, just desperate enough to see one thing—
Hermes. He's calling me.
My breath stalls as my chest tightens.
My tongue won’t move, then my knees give way, but I don’t hit the floor.
Someone lifts me—my legs dangling, useless.
The last thing I feel is the cold air brushing my skin…
and the last thing I think is:
Hermes… What does he want to say to me?
Then everything goes black