“How dare you disrespect me like that! I’m the representative of the Prime Minister! Such dismissal will not be ignored and we may have to reconsider our investment.”
I looked up at his red face and arched a mocking eyebrow.
“Oh, will you?” I nodded, grabbing my phone and iPad from my desk. “Please do as you wish. I’m not in need of funds. Actually, your pulling out of this is more of a blessing. Your investment is small and the return is much higher than other partners’. All that for me to get a government seal of approval I frankly couldn’t care less about.” I walked to the door and grabbed my coat. “Now, I’m leaving and I really don’t give a damn about how you feel about it.”
I stopped by Marie’s desk who’d prepared Ava’s bag and coat for me to take. “Contact our lawyers and tell them to prepare a standard withdrawal form for Mr. Br—”
“Hey, not so fast, I never said we would withdraw. An agreement is an agreement, and we intend for you to uphold your end of the bargain.”
“You don’t say.” I shook my head, buttoning my coat. “Let me tell you something, Mr. Brown—remember who you are talking to and abstain from threatening anyone with more power than you. It's a waste of everyone’s time.”
When the elevator closed on me, I let out a breath and ran a shaky hand through my hair. I was scared like I’d never been before, all enhanced by a guilt I could barely contain.
The image of her, lifeless and bleeding, would haunt me for years to come, and I was certain that if anything happened to her or our child, I’d never forgive myself.
I got into the car waiting for me at the back entrance of the building and the drive to the hospital seemed to take so much longer than it ought to. The car had barely slowed down at the hospital entrance when I jumped out and ran inside.
“Ava Byrnes,” I announced, stopping at the reception. “She was just brought in and—”
“Mr. St-John?” I turned around to see a woman dressed in dark green scrubs peeking out from swinging doors.
She gestured me forward and I followed her down a corridor.
“How’s Ava? What’s happening?”
“We don’t know much. She’s in surger—”
“Then bring me someone who can tell me.”
“Sir, please.” She stopped and turned to me. “We have some of the best specialists working on your—”
“Fiancée.” Why the hell did I say that? And why did it feel right? “Someof the best but notthebest.”
“Sir, you directed her here because you know our reputation. Please take a seat and we’ll come to you as soon as possible.”
I nodded, already scrolling on my phone to make sure the best would be here. After thirty minutes and five phone calls,thebest was about to take a private plane from Zurich.
I leaned back in my seat and as the fear started to fade a little, I tried to process the whole situation, especially all the new feelings that had taken over me when I saw her on the floor. How could I have been so misguided?
I closed my eyes and saw the future so clearly—the one I was sure I’d never want or need, especially with someone who would bring so much more complication to my life than I ever wanted. Yet, at that moment, it felt like a dream, a prophecy of what could have been.
A Christmas morning in the country estate, a little boy squealing and running to the tree, reaching for the biggest present and starting to unwrap it. There was no mistaking that this child was mine, being a spitting image of my younger self: the same hazel eyes, the same rounded face, but with Ava’s mischievous smile.
And I could see her, my heart squeezing inside my chest.
Ava, her face still sleepy but glowing with happiness. The sight of her maternal, pregnant figure; she was carrying another child, pregnant again in this impossible dream, the most beautiful creature who had ever walked this earth.
“You bastard!”
I opened my eyes and the feeling of loss was all too real, despite the scene being nothing more than a figment of my imagination.
I looked up to see Ethan coming down the corridor, his face red with exertion, his expression murderous. It was the first time I could really see the St-John in him.
“Ethan,” I said, trying to calm him down with a pacifying gesture.
“What did you do to her?” he spat, standing close to my chair—too close.
I let my eyes flicker down to his shaky hand that was balled up into a fist. I didn’t need to be in his head to know that he was probably contemplating punching me in the face, and I knew that if he did, I would not retaliate.