Chapter 3 Crossroads Of Uncertainty

Gabriella's suggestion for Chelsey to spend the night at the Morris Mansion was met with a polite refusal. The mansion sprawled like an empire, with separate villas housing Kaden's numerous offspring, and Gabriella's house was tucked furthest from the main building.

Chelsey hadn't lived here since she became an adult.

Gabriella, aware of Chelsey's stubborn streak, didn't press further but reminded her to make a hospital visit before departing.

Just as a semblance of warmth began to permeate the conversation, Gabriella interjected with a jab, "You look like hell from all that vomiting! You have a date in a few days. How can you go looking this battered? First impressions, they're like gold dust, you know?"

"Enough, let's shelve this talk for later." Chelsey ended the conversation, urging Gabriella to retire for the night.

Gabriella, now incensed, retorted, "Have you not noticed how the Morris family regards us? If you flub this, I'll be left utterly red-faced!"

"And marrying into a wealthy family doesn't qualify as flubbing it?" Chelsey shot back.

Gabriella softened her approach, grasping Chelsey's hand gently, her eyes brimming with emotion. "You know my standing in this family. Can you bear to see me ostracized?"

Chelsey couldn't withstand Gabriella's tears. Her resolve wavered. "Let's table this discussion for a while; I'm spent."

Capitalizing on the softened stance, Gabriella persisted, "In this circle, men prefer youth on a platter. They've sampled all the flavors, you see. A wife has to be pliant, youthful, and beautiful."

She tugged at Chelsey's arm, adding, "Now, Trevor might be a tad more decent, but he's not immune to the norms."

At the mention of Trevor, Chelsey shivered involuntarily. She wanted to bolt but also craved to hear more about him.

"What's the matter with him?" she inquired tentatively.

Gabriella's words pierced the air. "Word has it, Kaden's paraded several potential matches, and he's handpicked the youngest and loveliest."

Chelsey stood in the wind, her heart racing.

When she departed the Morris Mansion, night had descended in its entirety.

Autumn had crept in early in Kerton; the evening breeze held a chill.

She hastened her steps; the mansion was situated in the outskirts, devoid of nearby subway stations. To flag down a cab, she needed to reach the main road, a twenty-minute trek away.

Midway, a car horn sounded behind her. Instinctively, she stepped aside, but the vehicle pulled up beside her.

The car window rolled down. Behind the wheel sat Trevor's secretary, Killian Gordon.

"Miss Howard," Killian called out.

Chelsey felt a cold shiver down her spine as she peered inside, though darkness shrouded the interior.

Killian caught her glance and explained, "Mr. Morris is still tied up at the shindig. He sent me here."

Chelsey was on the verge of declining. They were still on the Morris family's radar, susceptible to prying eyes.

Killian flashed her a polite smile and continued, "Miss Howard, Mr. Morris thought it prudent for me to chauffeur you to the hospital. If you're under the weather, it's best to get checked out. Mr. Morris is concerned."

Trevor wasn't known for such considerate gestures.

Chelsey pieced together what was afoot, a suspicion that was confirmed by Killian's next words.

"Mr. Morris mentioned if it's just a stomach ache, the doctor can prescribe something. But if it's more serious, we can make arrangements in advance."

Chelsey's heart skipped a beat.

Was Killian suggesting her potential pregnancy?

And what did he mean by arrangements?

Trevor wouldn't allow her to carry his child!

Moreover, at this crucial juncture, he was set to tie the knot. If she were indeed expecting, she dreaded contemplating his potential reaction.

Chelsey felt a chill sweep over her, unwilling to entertain the thoughts of the dire consequences should her fears prove true.

Killian had everything arranged. At the hospital, Chelsey underwent the examination dutifully, even consenting to an additional blood sample for a pregnancy test.

Seated in the waiting area afterwards, Chelsey idly scratched her palms, leaving angry red marks. Time dragged on, each minute stretching into an eternity.

When she finally departed the hospital, darkness had enveloped the night in its entirety.

The weather wrapped itself around Chelsey like a damp cloak, chilling her to the bone as she stood outside, shivering and sneezing.

Her nose resembled a ripe tomato, and her eyes were all teary. Each gust of wind felt like a slap, bending her delicate frame like a willow branch on the verge of snapping.

Killian opened the car's rear door, signaling Chelsey to climb in, but she hesitated, her gaze fixated on Trevor's impeccably pressed trousers, legs crossed in front of her like an insurmountable barrier.

Trevor placed a hand on his lap, highlighting their individual joints. His fingers looked strong. His watch even had a cool metallic sheen to it, giving off an appearance of refinement.

"Come on, Miss Howard, hop in," Killian prodded gently, a subtle reminder that she had to get in the car.

Trevor, maybe drunk, reclined back against the seat with his eyes closed as Chelsey stepped closer. The inside of the automobile was dark, with much of his face hidden by shadows.

He was like a puzzle waiting to be solved, handsome yet enigmatic.

His suit jacket lay discarded, and the top two buttons of his black shirt were undone, giving him a relaxed vibe.

Chelsey had always known that Trevor rocked black like nobody's business.

It accentuated his rebellious charm, making him look like a suave outlaw.

It was as if black was tailor-made for him, a color that other men could only dream of pulling off with the same flair.

He was like the night itself, mysterious and alluring.

As soon as Chelsey settled, Trevor snatched the bag containing her medication.

"Just so you know, I'm not expecting," she quipped bitterly, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air.

Trevor paused, examining the test report with a detached air before responding, "Well, that's a relief."

A mixture of emotions swirled inside Chelsey, a heavy lump forming in her throat.

Relief mingled with a sense of loss, leaving her feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

But Trevor's words were a wake-up call, snapping her back to reality.

No more daydreaming.

When she got back her bearings, Chelsey noticed Trevor had already sorted out her medication. He handed her a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and passing it to her.

"Down the medicine, and no puking in my car," he remarked, reminding her of his germophobia.

Little did he know, Chelsey had already emptied her stomach's contents at the Morris Mansion; there was nothing left to throw up.

She swallowed the pills with a gulp of water, feeling the discomfort of an empty stomach protesting.

Just as she finished, her phone rang. It was Gabriella.

Chelsey hesitated, fearing Gabriella would spill the beans about her upcoming date.

But the persistent ringing and Trevor's impatient expression urged her to pick up.

"Hey," she greeted, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Chelsey, did you see the doctor?" Gabriella's concerned voice came.

The car was too quiet for comfort, so Chelsey pressed the phone closer to her ear, hoping to keep the conversation private.

"Yeah, it's just a case of gastroenteritis. The doctor gave me some meds," she replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Gabriella must have been busy pampering her skin, as her voice boomed through the phone's speaker.

"Oh, and remember what I told you earlier? Take it easy these days, recharge your batteries, and on Saturday, knock his socks off with your charm!"

Chelsey stole a glance at Trevor, feeling a pang of nerves. She quickly wrapped up the call.

But Gabriella's parting words, "Knock his socks off with your charm!" slipped out before she could hang up.

Chelsey felt like she was sitting on pins and needles, praying that Trevor hadn't heard a word.

The car fell into an eerie silence as it glided over a flyover. The tall streetlights cast patches of light into the car, illuminating Trevor's profile.

Accompanied by a low chuckle, he asked, "A blind date?"