Chapter 51

Sophia Lowell traced her fingers over her flat stomach, brows slightly furrowed. "Are you sure your hacker friend is reliable? Ethan Roscente isn’t someone you can easily fool."

Vivian Ashcroft thumped her chest confidently. "Relax. As long as he doesn’t personally escort you for a re-examination, there’s no way he’ll find out."

She had asked a friend to hack into the hospital’s system and replace all of Sophia’s pregnancy records with a diagnosis of gastroenteritis.

Only then did Sophia exhale in relief, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

Meanwhile, in the hospital corridor.

Zachary Evans handed a stack of medical reports to Ethan. "Ms. Lowell has been diagnosed with acute gastroenteritis. Irregular eating habits caused her stomach discomfort."

Ethan flipped through the reports quickly, his gaze lingering on one particular data point.

"Remove all the coffee machines from the office pantry," he said abruptly. "Replace them with herbal tea for stomach health."

Zachary blinked. "Understood. I’ll arrange it immediately."

Just then, the examination room door opened, and Isabella Valentine limped out, her ankle still wrapped in bandages.

"What did the doctor say?" Ethan tucked away the reports.

Isabella flashed a sweet smile. "Much better than this morning. Just can’t wear heels for a while."

"Then switch to flats," Ethan replied flatly.

Isabella pouted playfully, stomping her uninjured foot. "Ethan, shouldn’t you be complimenting me? Telling me I look just as good without heels?"

The corner of Ethan’s lips quirked slightly. "Should I?"

"Of course!" Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Anyone can tell you’ve never had to sweet-talk a girl before."

A shadow flickered in his gaze. "No experience in that department."

Isabella’s heart leapt. Her fingers inched toward his palm—but just before contact, Ethan checked his wristwatch and deftly sidestepped her touch.

"I have a meeting," he said, withdrawing his arm. "Have your assistant take you home."

Her smile froze. "You’re not staying with me?"

"Be good," he said, tone brooking no argument.

Suppressing her frustration, she forced a nod. "Fine."

With her assistant’s support, Isabella left, glancing back every few steps. The moment they turned the corridor corner, she violently shook off the assistant’s hand and kicked their shin.

"Useless! Who told you to interfere?" Her face twisted with rage, all traces of injury gone. "You ruined everything!"

The assistant staggered back, their sleeve slipping to reveal a forearm covered in bruises.

Elsewhere, Ethan tossed his suit jacket into a trash bin. Accepting a disinfectant wipe from Zachary, he meticulously scrubbed the back of his hand where Isabella had touched him.

"What time is she being discharged?" he asked, lighting a cigarette.

Zachary checked his watch. "Five p.m. sharp."

Amid the curling smoke, Ethan’s expression darkened.