Godmother To His Son Then I Took His Kingdom Chapter 02
When I woke up, I was in the hospital.
Evelyn had been admitted to the same hospital’s VIP ward for “severe emotional distress.”
Graham stayed with her the entire time.
I only found out later that his mother had called to inform him I’d been brought in as well.
Her tone, I was told, had been light.
“Mara just took a little fall. A minor accident. Just focus on calming Evelyn and the child—don’t let tonight get any more complicated.”
At that moment, I was being rushed into surgery for massive hemorrhaging.
A nurse kept trying my emergency contact, over and over.
No one answered.
In the VIP suite on another floor, a child psychologist was explaining to Graham the potential signs of trauma Leo might exhibit after his “disappearance.”
Evelyn lay in bed, pale and fragile.
So as not to disturb her rest, Graham switched his phone to silent.
The surgical lights were so bright I could barely open my eyes.
The doctor held a consent form out to me.
“The fetal heartbeat has stopped. We need to operate immediately. We can’t reach your family, so you’ll have to sign for yourself.”
My hand wouldn’t stop shaking.
The tip of the pen dragged a jagged line across the paper.
Mara Reyes.
Not Whitmore.
The nurse asked softly, “Would you like us to preserve the fetal tissue for testing?”
I stared at my bloodstained fingertips.
“No.”
“Dispose of it.”
When I said the words, I didn’t cry.
The child Graham never knew existed, and the last shred of hope I’d held for him, had both died on that staircase.
The anesthetic slid into my veins, and the world went dark.
In my dream, I was back in the winter after my parents’ accident.
Graham hadn’t slept for three days. He’d handled the police, the funeral home, the cemetery. He’d taken off his own coat to wrap around me, then sat holding me outside the morgue all night.
He had said, “Mara, you still have me. I will never leave you.”
I woke with a start in the hospital bed, a hollow ache in my lower abdomen.
No one was there.
My phone, however, was lit up with social media alerts.
One local headline stood out.
“Whitmore Family Heir Shows His Tender Side, Stays Overnight with Shaken Cabot Mother and Son.”
In the accompanying photo, Graham sat beside Evelyn’s bed, his gaze soft and protective. Leo was curled against his side. The three of them looked like a perfect family.
I closed the article, wiped the corner of one eye, and opened my encrypted email.
The first message went to my lawyer.
“Review all premarital assets immediately. Prepare divorce papers.”
The second went to my financial advisor.
“Inventory all accounts and assets under my sole control. Halt all nonessential financial dealings with the Whitmore family and prepare for complete separation.”
After the emails were sent, I pulled the IV from the back of my hand and, bracing myself against the wall, made my way out of the room.
I had just reached the corner of the hallway when Graham appeared, walking toward me.
His eyes flickered to my hospital gown for a fraction of a second.
“You shouldn’t have agitated Evelyn in public last night. Leo going missing had already pushed her to the brink, and you still had to confront us with those papers.”
I pressed a hand to the dull ache in my abdomen.
“So?”
“The family is prepared to offer you a trust as compensation.” He spoke as if handling a routine PR crisis. “On one condition—you issue a public statement confirming your fall was an accident and had nothing to do with Evelyn.”
“I don’t need your money. And I won’t lie for her.”
Graham’s face went cold.
“Mara, don’t be reckless. Your seat on the foundation board came from the Whitmore family. Your career, your connections, your reputation—they all come from this name.”
He looked down at me, his voice laced with that familiar warning.
“If you refuse to cooperate, the board will have no choice but to reevaluate your fitness to remain. And when the story gets out, I can’t guarantee what people will say.”
Looking at him then, I finally understood.
He didn’t care why I was in the hospital.
He only cared whether I would tarnish the Whitmore family name.
My lawyer and financial advisor needed time.
Until they were ready, I couldn’t let him suspect a thing.
I lowered my eyes, holding the silence for a few seconds before I nodded.
“Fine. I’ll do as you say.”
The tension in Graham’s face eased instantly.
He stepped closer and kissed my forehead.
“I knew you’d make the choice that benefits the family.”