Chapter 521

Olivia Lightfoot slammed the test report onto the desk. "HCG levels below 5. Zero chance of pregnancy. Don't believe me? That's your problem."

Alexander Hamilton picked up the report, his brow furrowing.

"Can eight days be detected now?"

"Seven is enough." Olivia glared. "Are you accusing me of falsifying reports?"

"You helped with the last abortion. No hospital records exist."

Olivia slammed her palm on the desk. "How dare you bring that up?! Fabricating records would cost me my medical license!"

Alexander took a deep breath. "My apologies. I didn't mean to question your integrity—"

Evelyn Carter stood abruptly. "Olivia has work to do. Let's talk outside."

Alexander suddenly gripped her wrist.

"What are you doing?"

"Knowing you, you'd placate me first, then find a way to terminate later." His voice tightened. "I won't make that mistake again."

Evelyn met his gaze. "There's no pregnancy this time."

"I can't trust that."

Olivia interjected, "Want another test now? I'll write the order."

"A different hospital." Alexander's tone brooked no argument.

Evelyn yanked her hand free. "Do I look clairvoyant? Could I have faked results in advance?"

Alexander lowered his lashes. "That kind of pain... once was enough."

The words stabbed Evelyn's heart. Memories flooded back—the frigid bathroom, burning pills stuck in her throat.

Olivia stamped her foot. "This is OB-GYN! There are expectant mothers next door!"

Without warning, Alexander scooped Evelyn into his arms and strode out.

Instinctively, she looped her arms around his neck.

"Put me down!"

Ignoring her, he carried her to the parking lot and gently deposited her in the passenger seat. He removed his jacket, folded it into a square, and carefully tucked it beneath her abdomen.

"Really necessary?" Evelyn scoffed.

"Multiple tests." He fastened her seatbelt. "Too tight?"

Eastside Hospital's results came in thirty minutes. Evelyn leaned against the wall, watching Alexander's knuckles whiten around the lab sheet.

"Accurate?" His voice rasped.

The doctor frowned. "Basic bloodwork."

"Let's go." Evelyn turned.

"One more hospital."

After five hospitals, the final physician tactfully suggested, "Sir, perhaps you should visit urology?"

In the car, Evelyn folded the stack of reports into paper airplanes.

"These blood draws were easier than those pills that day."

Alexander slammed the brakes.

"I sat on the toilet that night," Evelyn gazed out the window, "pills clutched in my hand, waiting for the door to crash open."

The paper airplane trembled in her fingers.

"I imagined you bursting in, flushing the pills, taking my hand saying 'Let's go home.'"

Alexander's knuckles turned bone-white.

"The pills stuck in my throat. So bitter I cried." She released the airplane, watching it nosedive onto the floor mat. "I wondered if it was our baby saying 'Don't leave me, Mommy.'"

In the rearview mirror, Alexander's tears splashed onto the steering wheel.