Celestine hailed a cab right in the thick of rush hour.
The whole way there, Lance kept dropping hints—some subtle, some not so much—that he’d skipped all his meals just waiting for her.
She stared at their chat on her phone, lips twitching with disbelief.
Still, not wanting to arouse suspicion, she managed a polite, humanitarian reply.
By the time she arrived at the private hospital, dusk had settled over the city.
Celestine walked into the lobby with practiced ease.
Up ahead, she spotted a familiar figure.
Gideon stood there in a black shirt, looking nothing like his usual laid-back self. His eyes were gentle, a soft smile playing on his lips.
He leaned down, close and intimate, to speak with the woman next to him.
Curiosity piqued, Celestine watched from a distance.
She couldn’t see the woman’s face, but those glossy chestnut curls and the elegant, form-fitting lavender dress left an impression. The woman had a quiet, magnetic poise.
Celestine’s gaze drifted—there was a subtle curve to the woman’s stomach.
Instinctively, she glanced at her shoes.
Flats.
Surprise flickered through her eyes.
She watched as Gideon accompanied the woman into the maternity wing.
And in that moment, everything clicked.
Gideon’s wife was back in town.
And she was pregnant.
Celestine hesitated, debating whether to go over and say hello.
She wrestled with herself for a while, but ultimately, she stayed put.
She had to admit—even without seeing Mrs. Prescott’s face, she could sense the woman’s intelligence and grace.
They made a striking couple, she thought.
Judging from that baby bump, Mrs. Prescott was likely four months along.
Sighing, Celestine pulled out her phone and sent him a message.
Celestine: Congratulations—looks like you’re about to be a dad.
Mr. Shield: ?
She hadn’t expected Gideon to reply instantly.
Maybe that was a little impulsive, she thought.
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