Chapter 91: We get married
Caleb reached out slowly and took her hand, holding it gently but firmly.
"You don’t have to be stressed about this, Fiona," he said, his voice steady and reassuring. "See this as a good thing. First thing we must do tomorrow is register our marriage and do every legal thing to secure the future of this baby , our baby."
Fiona’s eyes widened. She pulled her hand back slightly, staring at him in disbelief.
Caleb didn’t pull away. He stayed close, his expression patient but determined.
After registering the marriage... then what?
She looked at Caleb, searching his face for any sign of pressure or hidden agenda. All she saw was sincerity mixed with quiet determination the same look he had worn since the night he stood up to Marcus on her porch.
"We go public, Fiona," Caleb said softly, his voice calm but firm. "Then no one can bother you and me. Not Marcus. Not Clara. Not even Martin. Once we’re legally married, the baby is protected under my name. The adoption process becomes straightforward. The rumors lose their power because we control the narrative. We can announce it on our terms as a couple who found each other again and chose to build a family. No more hiding. No more fear of someone exposing the truth before we’re ready."
Fiona let out a shaky breath, her hand still resting on her belly. The idea of going public so soon after everything felt overwhelming. She had spent months hiding her pregnancy, protecting her child from the chaos of Voss, from Martin’s world, from the prying eyes of the industry. Now Caleb was suggesting they step into the spotlight together as husband and wife.
"Caleb... aren’t you moving too fast?" she asked, her voice quiet but laced with exhaustion and doubt. "We just reconciled. I asked for space yesterday because I was hurt and scared. Now you’re talking about registering the marriage and going public like it’s the next logical step. I feel like I’m barely catching my breath. What if we rush this and regret it later? What if the rumors explode even bigger once peopleknow it feels fast," he said, his voice low and patient. "And I’m sorry if I’m pushing. I don’t want to pressure you. But this isn’t just about us getting married because we’re in love though I am in love with you, Fiona. This is about protecting our family. Marcus knows you’re pregnant now. He’s not going to let it go. He’ll dig. He’ll ask questions. If he finds out the truth about Martin before we secure everything legally, it could turn into a nightmare. Martin has power. Lawyers. Resources. He could try to claim the baby or at least make our lives hell with custody threats.""I want us to be together," she said quietly. "I chose you. I still choose you. But I need to feel like I’m part of the decisions, not just being swept along because the situation is urgent. I’ve spent months hiding this pregnancy, protecting this baby from Martin’s world. I don’t want to rush into marriage just because we’re scared. I want to do it because it feels right — for all three of us."Marcus finally pulled into the underground parking of his penthouse building. The drive had been a blur of anger and confusion. He took the private elevator up, the mirrored walls reflecting a man he barely recognized — disheveled hair, wild eyes, shirt untucked. He looked like a man unraveling.
The moment he stepped into his luxurious penthouse, the silence hit him like a wall. The city lights glittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but the beauty felt mocking. He poured himself a large glass of whiskey and sank onto the couch, staring at nothing.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, seeing Clara’s name on the screen. He answered without thinking.
"Baby, I’m finishing up some work. What’s up?" Clara’s voice was casual, almost playful.
Marcus tried to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. His breathing grew heavy, ragged. The room started to spin. His chest felt tight, like a band was squeezing around his heart. He clutched the phone harder, trying to force the words out.
"Clara... Fiona... she’s..."
He couldn’t finish. His vision blurred. The phone slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor. He tried to stand, but his legs gave out. A loud bang echoed as he collapsed against the coffee table, knocking over the whiskey glass. The liquid spilled across the marble floor, mixing with the sound of his labored breathing.
On the other end of the line, Clara’s voice turned sharp with panic.
"Marcus? Marcus, are you okay, dear?"
No answer. Only heavy, gasping breaths and the sound of something heavy falling.
"Marcus!"
She dropped the call and immediately dialed 911, her hands shaking.
"I think my boyfriend is in danger," she said, voice trembling. "He’s at home. He sounded like he was having a heart attack or something. Please, send help!"
She gave them the address, grabbed her keys, and ran out the door. Her heart pounded as she sped through the city streets, breaking every speed limit. The thought of Marcus collapsing alone terrified her not just because she cared for him, but because he was her key to destroying Fiona.
When she arrived at his building, the ambulance was already there. Paramedics were rushing inside. Clara followed them, her face pale with genuine fear.
"Marcus!" she called as they entered the penthouse.
He was on the floor, conscious but pale, breathing hard. The paramedics were checking his vitals, asking questions. Marcus looked up at her, his eyes wide with shock and pain.
"Clara..." he rasped , his voice barely audible over the beeping of the portable monitor.
Clara knelt beside him, her designer dress pooling on the spilled whiskey and shattered glass. Her hand gripped his tightly, her face a perfect mask of panic and concern. Inside, her mind was spinning with dark excitement.
"Shh, baby," she whispered, brushing damp hair from his forehead. "Don’t talk. The paramedics are here. Just breathe. We’ll figure this out."
One of the paramedics, a young man with a calm but urgent tone, glanced at Clara while securing an oxygen mask over Marcus’s face.
"Does he have a history of heart issues? High blood pressure? Any recent stress?"
Clara shook her head, though her eyes flickered with calculation.
"Not that I know of. He’s been under a lot of pressure at work lately. And... personal stuff."
The paramedics worked efficiently, checking his blood pressure, attaching leads, and preparing to move him. Marcus’s breathing was still labored, but his eyes remained fixed on Clara, wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief.
"Clara..." he muttered again, the word muffled by the mask. "I...she.. carrying his..."
Clara’s grip tightened on his hand, her nails digging in just enough to get his attention.
"Marcus, stop. We’ll talk about this later. Right now, you need to focus on breathing. I’m right here."
The paramedics lifted him onto the stretcher with practiced ease. Clara stood up, following them as they wheeled him toward the elevator. Her heart was racing.
As the elevator descended, Clara leaned close to Marcus’s ear.
"I’m with you," she whispered. "Whatever this is about ... we’ll handle it together. Just stay with me."
Marcus nodded weakly, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. The pain in his chest was easing slightly with the oxygen, but the emotional storm remained.
The ambulance ride to Aurelia Bay General Hospital was a blur of sirens and flashing lights. Clara sat in the back, holding Marcus’s hand, her mind already plotting the next steps. She sent a quick text to a contact at the hospital a nurse who owed her a favor asking for discreet information on any pregnancy-related admissions.
By the time they reached the emergency room, Marcus was stable but exhausted. The doctors whisked him away for tests EKG, blood work, chest X-ray while Clara waited in the sterile waiting area, tapping her foot impatiently.
Her phone buzzed. It was Marcus’s phone, which she had grabbed before leaving the penthouse. A message from an unknown number.
Unknown: Confirming the rumor. Fiona Flare is pregnant. Source close to hospital staff.
Clara’s lips curled into a predatory smile. She saved the message and deleted it from the notification bar. This was better than she could have hoped. Fiona pregnant. The timing fit perfectly with her resignation and the tension with Martin. If it was his child... the scandal would be nuclear.
She leaned back in the plastic chair, crossing her legs. The waiting room was quiet, the fluorescent lights harsh. Clara’s mind raced with possibilities. She could leak this anonymously. She could use it to drive a wedge between Martin and Katherine. She could watch Fiona’s life crumble in real time.
A doctor finally approached her.
"Mr. Marcus is stable," the doctor said. "It looks like a severe anxiety attack combined with high blood pressure. We’re keeping him overnight for observation. No heart attack, but he needs rest and stress management."
Clara nodded, forcing a worried expression.
"Thank you, Doctor. Can I see him?"
They led her to a private room. Marcus was sitting up in bed, an IV in his arm, looking pale but alert. When he saw her, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and desperation.
