Chapter 933

Lucian Graves lifted his gaze to meet hers, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "What's this? Some feminine conspiracy I'm not privy to?"

Rosalind Fairchild bit her lip to suppress a grin. "Absolutely! A lady never reveals all her secrets—especially not to nosy men like you."

His smirk deepened. "Fair enough. Now eat up. After breakfast, I'll drop you at the hospital before heading to the office. Sound good?"

Rosalind nodded, pushing her golden hair behind one ear. "Perfect."

The sleek black sedan glided to a stop before the towering medical complex. Lucian turned off the ignition. "I'll walk you in."

"No need," Rosalind said quickly, already unbuckling her seatbelt. "I've texted Harrison—she's expecting me at her office."

Before he could protest, she slipped out of the car with a wave. "See you tonight!"

Lucian chuckled, shaking his head as she disappeared through the automatic doors.

Inside the bustling hospital, Rosalind navigated the corridors with practiced ease. She found Harrison Sinclair in her private office, still in surgical scrubs.

"Rosalind!" Harrison's face lit up as she removed her stethoscope. "To what do I owe this surprise visit?"

Rosalind twisted her hands together. "I... I'd like a prenatal checkup."

Harrison's perfectly arched eyebrow lifted. "Everything alright?"

Heat crept up Rosalind's neck as she avoided direct eye contact. "Just... precautionary. It's been a while since my last one."

"Of course." Harrison gestured to the examination table. "Let's start with your pulse."

As Harrison's cool fingers pressed against her wrist, Rosalind held her breath. After a long moment, Harrison's lips curved knowingly. "So. You and Mr. Graves have reconciled?"

Rosalind's eyes widened. "How did you—"

"Darling, your meridians are practically singing." Harrison withdrew her hand with an amused smile. "The baby's perfectly healthy, but you might want to... pace yourselves."

A furious blush burned Rosalind's cheeks. "It's not like we—I mean—"

Harrison laughed, already scribbling on a prescription pad. "Save your explanations. That man's utterly besotted. I'd say you're stuck with him."

"What makes you so sure?" Rosalind challenged.

Harrison gave her a pointed look. "Please. The way he looks at you? Like you hung the moon? That's not something a man fakes."

Rosalind could only shake her head in defeat.

Rising, Harrison grabbed a clipboard. "Come on. Let's run the full battery of tests."

The examination passed in a blur of ultrasounds and bloodwork. When the monitor flickered to life, Rosalind's breath caught—there, pulsing with life, was their child.

"Look at that," Harrison murmured, pointing to the screen. "Already doing somersaults in there. Strong heartbeat, perfect size for gestational age."

Tears pricked Rosalind's eyes as she traced the tiny silhouette with trembling fingers. This miracle—part her, part Lucian—was real.

Afterward, as they walked back to Harrison's office, Rosalind cradled the ultrasound printout like sacred parchment.

"Now remember," Harrison said sternly, "just because junior's thriving doesn't mean you two can go wild. Moderation, especially in the first trimester. Understood?"