Maxwell's POV
The stakeholders droned on about market analysis and the works, their voices blending into white noise.
I sat at the head of the conference table, nodding at intervals, but I wasn't listening. Couldn't listen.
All I could see was Olivia.
Olivia on her knees, begging for forgiveness.
Olivia's face going pale.
Olivia running to my bathroom and vomiting like her body was trying to purge itself of poison.
Was she sick? What was wrong with her?
Oh God. Had my behavior - the way I'd continuously stressed her, played games with her, made her life hell as Oliver - had it made her physically ill?
The guilt twisted in my gut like a knife.
I pulled out my phone under the table, fingers moving quickly over the screen. Why would a woman throw up?
Google offered dozens of results. Food poisoning. Stomach flu. Motion sickness. Stress. Anxiety.
Pregnancy.
I stilled completely.
The word stared back at me from the screen, innocent and mind blowing all at once.
Pregnancy.
