Chapter 14: Hiding the Secret

Silence dominated the days following Nicholas's discovery of the pregnancy test. He hadn't brought it up again as though the memory of the test had vanished. However, I was aware. Nicholas Scott remembered, and I could tell by his cool-headedness that he was waiting for me to bring up the big issue.

I wasn't prepared for that discussion.

Rather, I made a choice—one that was fueled by uncertainty and anxiety. However, I would not tell anyone about this for the time being.

However, secrets consumed you and eroded you until the weight of what you chose not to disclose was all left.

Like other mornings, it began with the bedroom curtains letting in the dim light of dawn. Another wave of nausea swept over me, and I sat at the edge of the bed, gripping my stomach. The subtle scent of Nicholas' coffee coming from the kitchen made it worse.

I stumbled into the bathroom and retched before I could even close the door. I pressed myself against the counter and wished the feeling would go away as the sound of my heaving reverberated off the tiled walls.

Upon its completion, I cleaned my mouth and gazed at my image in the mirror. My eyes were lifeless, and my skin was pallid. The woman staring back at me was hardly recognizable.

A sharp, demanding knock on the door was heard.

"Cassie?" I froze as Nicholas's voice was clipped. "How are you doing?"

I made an effort to sound steady. "I'm all right. Simply put a stomach ache.

The silence on the other side of the door seemed to go on forever.

At last, he remarked, "You've been saying that a lot lately." "You might want to see a doctor."

My heart pounded. It isn't anything. It's most likely something I consumed.

There was a long pause, and I almost expected him to press harder. But then I let out a sigh of relief as his footsteps disappeared.

The secret was safe for now.

The emotional burden of my choice far outweighed the physical effort. Between the world I'd meticulously built with Nicholas and the brittle, unsure one developing inside me, I felt alienated from my existence.

I threw myself into my job at the art center and tried to avoid him as much as possible. The well-known turmoil of staff coordination and budget management gave me a focal point and a sense of stability.

But I was unable to get away even there.

"How are you, Cassie?" One afternoon, Sophie questioned with a worried frown. "Recently, you've been looking... off."

I hurriedly put on a smile that seemed fragile as glass and said, "I'm fine."

She squinted. "Are you certain? You appear to have lost weight, and you have been pale.

I sent her away with an emotion in my tummy from regret. Sophie, my closest friend, was the one I could always depend on.

However, she was unable to find out. Not quite yet.

I hoped she would drop it, so I said, "I've just been busy."

Despite her lack of conviction, she let it go, and I was relieved.

Fatigue had crept into my bones when I returned to the penthouse that night. Nicholas was working in the living room while holding his laptop on his knees.

His voice interrupted my attempt to get past him undetected.

"Cassie."

I turned to him and froze. "Yes?"

Putting the laptop down, he leaned back and looked intently. "You haven't been around me."

I lied, spoke too quickly and defensively, saying, "No, I haven't."

He made a small line with his lips. "Avoid disparaging my intelligence. For days, you have hardly spoken to me.

I started to reply, but his intense gaze stopped me.

"What's happening?" he asked. Don't tell me it's nothing, either. I am not blind.

I was filled with panic. I could not allow him to see through the gaps and piece together the truth.

My voice trembled as I said, "I've just been stressed." "I haven't been sleeping well, and work has been hectic."

His eyes narrowed, and I noticed the wheels turning in his mind.

"Is there anything you aren't telling me," he began, but his phone buzzed, interrupting him.

His jaw tensed as he looked at the television. With a clipped tone, he stated, "I have to take this."

I gave a short nod, appreciating the break. The moment he left the room, I backed away and shut the door to the bedroom.

I felt a brief sense of relaxation.

When I woke up the following morning, Nicholas had already left. His absence was somewhat consoling because it allowed me to gather myself before having to maintain appearances for another day.

However, I noticed a piece of paper on the counter as soon as I entered the kitchen.

The note read, "Cassie, I've scheduled a doctor's appointment for tomorrow morning," and was written in his same handwriting. Don't argue.

I was feeling nauseous.

He was aware. Or at least he had a suspicion.

With frustration rising to the surface, I crumpled the note in my hand. If he persisted, how was I to keep this a secret?

Then I had another thought, a more dreadful one.

What if the doctor confirmed the pregnancy? What would happen if Nicholas learned before I could tell him?

I had trouble breathing and felt as though the walls were closing in.

To buy myself more time, I had to think of a method to postpone this. However, the choices were slipping out of my grasp like sand.

I sat alone in the living room that night, feeling more burdened than ever by my secret. I was unable to continue much longer.

I was startled out of my reverie by the front door opening, and I turned to see Nicholas coming in.

His eyes remained on me, piercing and evaluating, but he remained silent.

"What?" I said in a guarded tone.

The tension in the room was evident even though he shook his head.

Finally, in a neutral tone, he continued, "I hope you're ready for tomorrow."

Despite the uneasiness in my stomach, I forced a nod.

I noticed the tiniest trace of a smirk on his lips as he passed me to his study—a calculating, knowing look that made my skin crawl.

He was aware.

He was also waiting for me to make a mistake.