Chapter 958

Lucian's deep voice cut through the silence. "Really?"

Rosalind nodded, her fingers unconsciously tracing her belly. "Really."

He crouched down until he was eye-level with her stomach, his tone unexpectedly tender. "You must be gentle with your mother, little one."

The obstetrician smiled warmly. "The connection between you two is remarkable."

A flush crept up Rosalind's cheeks.

The doctor continued, "A father's love creates stability for the mother. That stability brings peace to the baby, and peace creates harmony in the home. When parents share genuine affection, it shapes the child's entire future." She adjusted her glasses. "Remember - even in the womb, babies sense their parents' emotions."

Rosalind chanced a glance at Lucian and found his intense gaze already fixed on her.

Those storm-gray eyes held her captive, making her pulse stutter. She couldn't decipher the emotion swirling in their depths.

As they prepared to leave, the doctor added, "Be diligent with your moisturizing routine to prevent stretch marks. Caring for yourself is just as important as caring for your baby."

Lucian thanked the physician before turning to Rosalind. "Let's go."

They walked side by side through the sterile hospital corridor.

After a prolonged silence, Lucian suddenly asked, "Do you agree with what she said?"

Rosalind blinked. "She said many things. Which part?"

He studied her for a weighted moment before shaking his head. "Never mind."

Never mind? What had he meant to ask?

Rosalind opened her mouth—

A frantic shout interrupted her. "Coming through! Emergency!"

A nurse came barreling down the hallway with a crash cart, moving at alarming speed.

Lucian reacted instantly. His arm shot out, pulling Rosalind flush against his chest as he pivoted them both out of harm's way. The cart whizzed past, missing them by inches.

"Are you hurt?" His voice was rough with concern.

Rosalind shook her head, suddenly hyperaware of their proximity. His crisp bergamot scent enveloped her, and the heat radiating from his body sent an unexpected shiver down her spine.

"I—"

"Mr. Graves!"

They turned to see Isabella Delacroix approaching. Her sharp eyes flicked between Lucian's protective hold and Rosalind's flushed face.

"Is this... Mrs. Graves?" The question dripped with false sweetness.

Mrs. Graves?

Rosalind immediately recognized the challenge in Isabella's gaze. This was a power play—a test to establish hierarchy.

She looked to Lucian, waiting.

He released her with deliberate slowness. "She's not Mrs. Graves."

The cold finality in his voice made Rosalind's stomach drop.

Isabella's lips curled in victory. "Then who is she?"

Rosalind held her breath.

The corner of Lucian's mouth lifted in that infuriating half-smile. "She's carrying my child. That's all."

The dismissal cut deeper than any blade.

Rosalind's face drained of color. "Excuse me."

She turned on her heel and fled to the nearest restroom.

Leaning against the sink, she splashed icy water on her burning face. The door creaked open.

Of course. Isabella had followed.

Rosalind wasn't surprised—she'd expected this confrontation.