Page 28 of The Tycoon's Shock Heir

Ruby sat alone. Upright and alone. Her knees were locked together and she gripped the edge of the chair—waiting.

She glanced up at the staff, wondering when she would hear her name. And then she did. And she jumped so suddenly people turned to stare.

A uniformed, clean-faced woman holding a clipboard raised her eyebrows. ‘Nobody with you?’

Ruby shook her head. When would people stop asking her that?

The woman softened slightly, cast a glance over her. ‘Follow me.’

Ruby placed her weight carefully on her feet and stood. There was no pain. It was fine. It was all going to be fine. She followed the woman through a set of doors. A long corridor stretched ahead. She’d never been in this hospital before. The medical team normally came to the studio. But her physician had a clinic here and had specifically told her to come to the hospital for her final meeting.

Since she’d learned that her mind had run and her stomach had lurched. This incessant scrolling through every spinal, disc and musculature injury had got out of control. It didn’t necessarily mean it was bad news, just because she wanted to see her here. Maybe she preferred to do her consulting here. Maybe all sorts of things might explain the gnawing aches, the awareness she had that she didn’t want to listen. Maybe it would all be nothing.

But she had been through all the maybes in her head. It wasn’t going to be good news. No one else had been asked to come here. She could only hope it wasn’t really bad news.

‘Come in, come in,’ the consultant said, standing up when she opened the door, then nodding to the nurse. ‘Have you brought anyone with you?’

Ruby stifled the urge to snap at her and shook her head instead.

The room was a square sterile box, with a window at the back and a desk facing the wall. She stared closely at the paper files on the desk, at the slice of computer screen she could see angled away to one side. She sat down on the chair she was offered—carefully. There was no twinge of pain. She was going to be given the all-clear. She could go back to rehearsals. It was going to be OK...

‘Your knee,’ said the doctor. ‘How has it been?’

‘Since the brace came off—nothing. I’ve been incredibly careful. All the physio and hydrotherapy—that’s made a difference. My diet—I’ve followed every instruction. I can’t wait to get back.’

‘And the other pain?’

‘It’s almost gone, I think. I barely notice it.’

The doctor nodded. ‘We did some blood tests, as you know, after you mentioned this new pain in your back.’

She knew. She’d been feeling so tired, so lethargic. She pressed her knees together and sat up as straight as she could. She angled her chin and stared ahead, ready to hear the next words. She’d heard those kind of words before—that was all they were. Words. There was always hope after the shock.

‘Is there anything you want to tell me?’

The consultant had turned to read the screen, scrolling through the notes.

‘No? In that case, I should tell you we screened for pregnancy as well as other things. I don’t know if you’re aware of that?’

A hammer fell in her head. Why was she saying that word? Pregnant. What did that have to do with anything?

‘It’s routine in medicine. With women of child-bearing age it’s always a consideration.’

That hammer fell again as another thought forced its way through. The tiny voice that had been talking to her, whispering it.

Pregnant.

She’d refused to hear it, had blocked it out.

The hammer crashed the barrier down and suddenly she could see what she had known was there—the hideous thought that had been lurking in the shadows of her mind.

The whole world spun into a sickening swirl as a wave of nausea from low in her tummy rose up.

‘I think that would explain all your other symptoms too. You know—the low blood pressure. That can happen. And back pain can be a symptom for some women. I wasn’t sure if you already knew.’

‘But I’m a dancer.’ She looked into the pleasant face of the other woman.

‘Dancers have babies,’ she said, as if that was the most obvious and delightful thing in the world.

‘But I can’t have a baby.’

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