Chapter 6
Amelia
I smoothed down my wind-tossed hair as I approached the front door, juggling my giant tote bag and the beat-up sketchbook I never leave behind. Before I could even grab the handle, the door swung open, and there was Ethan, sweat beading on his forehead, breathing just a little heavy like he’d just finished a workout.
Our eyes locked for a split second before we both looked away, awkward as ever.
“Morning,” I mumbled, sounding way too stiff even to myself.
“Morning,” he replied with a quick nod, wiping his face with the towel slung around his neck. “Heads up, I’m heading to my grandfather George’s place tonight. Family stuff. Won’t be back.”
“Got it,” I said, not bothering to ask for details. He wouldn’t give them anyway.
He stepped aside to let me through, and I bolted to my car without a backward glance.
The sharp, sterile smell of the hospital hit me as I walked through the main entrance. A few nurses waved, and some familiar patients flashed smiles.
“Thompson! Wait up!” Jenny, the head nurse, called out as I made for the elevator. She jogged over, her sensible sneakers squeaking on the shiny floor. “How is your grandpa? You gotta take care of yourself, hon.”
“He's okay, Jenny,” I said, forcing a smile I hoped looked real.
Lisa at the front desk grinned as we passed. “Dr. Thompson.”
"Good morning," I nodded.
The morning flew by with prenatal checkups and consults. I got lost in the routine—measuring bellies, checking fetal heartbeats, calming nervous first-time moms. This is my happy place, where nothing matters except bringing new life into the world and making sure it happens safely.
I was going over an ultrasound with a glowing couple when my office door flew open, slamming against the wall with a bang.
“Robert?” I blinked, stunned, as Robert stormed in, his fancy suit clashing with the fury on his face.
The couple glanced between us, totally thrown off.
“I’m so sorry,” I said to them quickly. “Could you step outside for just a minute? My nurse will grab you some water.”
Once they were gone, I spun to face my father, anger boiling up. “What the hell are you doing? This is my job.”
“You think you’re so damn smart, huh?” He stepped closer, getting in my face. “Marrying some random guy just to lock down your mother’s money.”
“This is OB-GYN,” I shot back, ice in my voice. “Psych ward’s on the fifth floor. Looks like you took a wrong turn.”
His face turned beet red. “Don’t get cute with me. You’re coming to the lawyer’s office this afternoon to sign over your mom’s assets. I’m still your father, and that money belongs under my control.”
“That’s not what Mom’s will says,” I snapped, holding my ground. “And I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Don’t push me, Amelia.” His voice dropped low, threatening.
My dad’s always had a short fuse, but he’d never laid a hand on me before. He snatched my sketchbook off the desk and chucked it at me. I dodged it no problem, but I wasn’t ready when he stepped in and slapped me hard across the face.
The sting hit me harder than the blow itself. For a split second, I was that scared little kid again—but only for a second.
When he raised his hand to hit me again, I reacted on instinct. I grabbed his wrist mid-swing, squeezing just enough to make him flinch. Those self-defense classes I took after moving to Brooklyn solo were worth every penny.
“Don’t you ever touch me again,” I hissed, my voice steady and low.
The door burst open, and Jenny rushed in, planting herself between us. “Mr. Thompson! You need to cool it, right now!”
I noticed we’d drawn a crowd. A bunch of pregnant patients and nurses were hovering by the door, whispering to each other.
Robert jerked his arm free, his face twisted with humiliation and rage. “This isn’t over. You might’ve gotten married, but that money will never be yours. Never!”
He stormed out, shoving past everyone in his way.
“Jesus, Amy. Your cheek’s bright red.” Jenny grabbed a cold pack from the supply closet. “Let me put this on it.”
I waved her off. “I’m fine. Just didn’t see it coming.”
“This is about your mom’s inheritance, isn’t it?” Jenny pressed the cold pack to my face anyway. “He’s been gunning for that money forever.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, wincing at the chill. “But he can’t touch it now that I’m married.”
Jenny eyed me closely. “You never said anything about getting married.”
Crap. I forgot the hospital crew didn’t know about my quickie wedding. “It was… last-minute. Small thing, super private.”
“Well, congrats, I guess?” She didn’t look sold. “You sure you’re up for working today? That’s gonna bruise bad.”
I grabbed my surgical mask. “This’ll hide it. I’ve got patients waiting, and babies don’t wait for family drama.”
By the end of the day, I was packing up when my phone buzzed. Olivia’s name popped up on the screen.
“Amy! We gotta meet up. Tonight. I’ve got a ton of questions,” Olivia’s voice came through, all hyped up.
“Brooklyn BBQ Joint? I’m dying for some ribs and a beer after today,” I said, craving something comforting.
“Ugh, you know I’m prepping for this new role. Gotta stay camera-ready.” She groaned for effect. “But for you, I’ll cheat. Just this once.”
Maria, the owner of our go-to barbecue spot, lit up when we walked in. “Back at it! I’ve got a discount for you tonight.”
Olivia slid off her sunglasses, her signature red hair tucked under a cap. “Keep it quiet, Maria. I’m undercover tonight.”
We slid into our usual corner booth, and Maria dropped off a pitcher of beer without us even asking.
“So,” Olivia leaned in, eyes gleaming with curiosity, “what’s it like shacking up with Ethan Black? I’ve seen him on Fortune’s cover. Those icy blue eyes could stop traffic.”
I took a long swig of beer. “We barely cross paths. He’s off running his money empire, I’m delivering babies. We’re like ships passing in the night.”
“You’re telling me you’re not even a little into him?” She arched a perfect brow. “This is Ethan Black. Forbes 30 Under 30. The guy basically screams power and cash.”
I shoved a rib in her mouth to shut her up. “Eat. Less talking. I just need the marriage license, not the guy.”
Three hours and way too many beers later, we were scrolling through our phones, stuffed and finally chilled out after a rough few days.
“Holy crap!” Olivia gasped, shoving her phone in my face. “Breaking news, look at this!”
I dragged my eyes from my screen to hers, and my stomach sank as I read the headlines:
#WallStreetPrinceSpottedWithMysteryWoman
#EthanBlackDitchesCelibateImage
The photos showed Ethan, looking sharp as always, guiding a gorgeous blonde into the Blue Note jazz bar. His hand was on her lower back, his head tilted toward her like they were deep in some private convo.
I flashed back to what he said this morning: “I’ll be at my grandfather George’s tonight.” Was this his cover story? A slick lie to hide a night out with someone else?
“Guys like him probably do this all the time,” I said, trying to play it cool.
Olivia shook her head hard. “No way. This is his first scandal, ever.”
I frowned, my brain spinning. “Then why let the media catch him? Wouldn’t that mess with his company’s rep?”
“Exactly!” Olivia jabbed her beer bottle at me. “There’s only one reason—he wanted to be seen. The real question is: why?”