Chapter 2

• ARTEMY
• As my gaze remained fixed on her form, a rush of uneven breaths filled my lungs, their rhythm faltering as I observed her battered body. An ominous hue of deep purple marred the side of her left leg, while an unsightly shade of green began to creep over one of her arms. Evidently, this bruise was a recent addition, perhaps no older than a week.
• Further inspection revealed an array of minor cuts tracing patterns across her skin. Her face bore traces of bruising, yet it fared markedly better than the rest of her.
• One peculiar detail stood out: her stomach, a canvas untainted by bruises. The expanse from her chest to the curvature of her abdomen displayed an unblemished, pale complexion. It was as if the front of her body had been left inviolate and untouched by the violence.
• How Rebecca managed to shield this part of herself in her current state remained a mystery to me. All I knew was that I had found her alive, her breath a fragile testament to her survival. Anything necessary to preserve that breath, I was prepared to do.
• With my face nestled against her neck, I closed my eyes tightly, the determination to hold onto her overwhelming. Once lost, she would never elude me again.
• "Boss, her injuries are severe," Wyatt's voice finally broke the silence, his careful examination directed at Rebecca's form.
• I lifted my head slightly, fixing my gaze on Wyatt. "I'm well aware," I retorted with a snarl. "I need to know what can be done."
• If Wyatt proved inadequate in this crucial moment, I would have to seek an alternative to ensure Rebecca's care. I need to be sure with her condition, to know if she would get out from this ordeal safely.
• "I can attend to her wounds, naturally," Wyatt began, his gaze shifting to Rebecca's stomach. "However, I must inform you, she's pregnant, and my knowledge about pregnancy is limited."
• My jaw clenched tightly, teeth grinding together as the words I'd been avoiding were spoken aloud. She was pregnant.
• Damn it! I am not aware of this fact, yet the utterance of those words solidified the reality. It was real, an undeniable truth. My Angel was carrying a child.
• And the question loomed: Was the child mine?
• My attention returned to her rounded abdomen, fixated momentarily before Wyatt's voice drew me back to the present.
• "Considering her period of captivity, the toll on her mind and body is uncertain. It's imperative to comprehend how this might affect her pregnancy and the well-being of the baby," he continued.
• The reminder of her harrowing captivity and the perilously close brush with losing her grated on my nerves. Rescuing her from that abyss should have marked the conclusion. As long as she rested in my arms, her stability should have been restored. Yet nothing appeared harmonious.
• Wyatt's hand landed gently on Rebecca's chest. "Her breathing remains steady, which is encouraging. It's plausible she's in a profound slumber. Often, trauma survivors retreat into this state of dormancy. She may be engulfed in sleep throughout day and night. Rest is important. But you must keep a watchful eye on her."
• "I will. I won't leave her side," I vowed, my lips pressing a tender kiss near her ear. "I'll be here."
• I resolved to remain by her side as long as required for her healing.
• As Wyatt tended to her wounds, I dotted Rebecca's countenance and brow with affectionate kisses. Each syllable uttered was imbued with heartfelt sentiment—the very emotions echoing within my aching heart as she lay motionless. I whispered accolades of her beauty and bravery, proclaiming her my cherished, flawless Angel.
• She embodied everything to me, and I expressed every sentiment in whispers, hoping that even in her slumber, her consciousness absorbed my words.
• My hands caressed her, tracing gentle paths across her velvety skin, my touch unceasing while Wyatt concluded his efforts. I held her, my lips meeting hers, and despite my devoted ministrations, she remained tranquil. Were it not for the gentle rise and fall of her chest, she could have been mistaken for lifeless.
• Dread gripped me, the reality of her condition unsettling. Prayers materialized silently—I yearned for her swift awakening, to gaze into her resplendent green eyes, to hear her tender voice.
• Wyatt finally retreated, and I carefully rearranged the cover over Rebecca. Drawing her nearer, I guide her body against mine.
• "Boss, I've done what I can. But I'm not well-versed in pregnancy," Wyatt began to offer his counsel.
• His words were cut short by Bernadette's arrival, her voice interjecting with authority. I raised my gaze to find Bernadette and an unfamiliar woman entering the room. "She'll take over from here," Bernadette declared, nodding toward the newcomer.
• "Mr. Loskutov," she spoke in a tone of greeting, her presence marked by the air of a seasoned obstetrician. "I am a specialist in obstetrics. If you would grant me permission..." Her gaze shifted towards Rebecca.
• A low growl escaped me as she began to approach the bed. My arms instinctively encircled Rebecca, a protective stance accentuated by my intense glare directed at the woman standing before me.
• "Artemy, she's highly qualified. I've known her for years, and she's well-informed about our situation," Bernadette interjected, her voice tinged with a hint of exasperation.
• A faint smile touched the woman's lips. "My father, Jasper McCain, is part of your circle. I'm Claire McCain."
• The name triggered a recognition deep within me. Her father, a trusted associate, managed my affairs alongside Michael.
• After a hesitant nod, Claire proceeded to approach the bed, settling herself beside Rebecca. Gently, she unfolded the towel, revealing the round swell of Rebecca's stomach. As she placed her hand upon it, my eyelids fluttered shut, deliberately shutting out the scene before me.
• I buried my face into the crook of Rebecca's neck, finding solace in her familiar, comforting fragrance. Moments later, the sound of Claire's voice compelled me to open my eyes. "There's a heartbeat."
• Unbeknownst to me, I had been awaiting her confirmation. Her words triggered an overwhelming wave of relief that washed over me.
• A shiver coursed through me, followed by a deep inhalation. Pressing a tender kiss to Rebecca's neck, I murmured, "We're going to make it through this."
• "I've utilized both a stethoscope and fetal Doppler. Detecting a heartbeat implies she's progressed beyond twelve weeks. Regrettably, I can't precisely determine her gestational age or the health of both mother and baby without an ultrasound and some tests. It's essential for her to regain consciousness so I can gather more information," Claire explained.
• My grip on Rebecca's hand tightened, our intertwined fingers a symbol of unity. "The baby hasn't been moving, and her abdomen feels unnaturally tense. The presence of a heartbeat is positive, but you must ensure the baby moves soon. An extended period without movement, whether hours or even days, isn't a favorable sign."
• "So, you're suggesting there might be an issue with the..." I paused, grappling with the difficulty of articulating the term ‘baby’. An unexpected, astonishing revelation.
• Claire paid no mind to my hesitance and continued, "I can't definitively conclude at this stage. I recommend staying vigilant today and tomorrow. I'll return tomorrow to monitor any changes. Wyatt has offered the use of a portion of his office for ultrasound equipment. This arrangement will minimize movement for Rebecca and obviate the need to transport her elsewhere for checkups."
• With a gentle caress, she laid her hand upon Rebecca's stomach, her touch delicate against the firm bulge. "Rebecca is of petite stature. Judging by the size of her bump, I'd estimate she's past four months. Despite her ordeal, her belly appears healthily developed. The ultrasound will provide us with more comprehensive details."
• "I'll reach out when she awakens," I muttered, my gaze fixed on the hand that tenderly stroked Rebecca's abdomen.
• Why did the idea of touching her belly feel so alien? I struggled even to sustain a prolonged glance at the swollen area.
• Disgust surged within me at my own reaction, causing me to hastily avert my gaze and focus on Rebecca's peaceful slumber. Her serene countenance, pale and untroubled, struck me as that of a sleeping beauty. Yet, I knew her rest was likely plagued by haunting nightmares.