Chapter 179

The moment Sophia stepped into the dimly lit hospital room, her breath caught in her throat.

Liam lay motionless on the bed, his small frame swallowed by sterile white sheets.

The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor filled the silence, each pulse a fragile reminder of life.

Sophia’s fingers trembled as she reached for his hand, cold and limp beneath her touch.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

She had left him for just a few hours—just long enough to handle the emergency at the office.

Now, guilt twisted like a knife in her chest.

The door creaked open behind her.

Ethan Blackwood stood there, his usually composed expression shattered. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his jaw was clenched tight.

"You came," he said, voice rough.

Sophia didn’t trust herself to speak. She just nodded.

Ethan moved closer, his presence both a comfort and a torment.

"The doctors say it was an allergic reaction," he murmured, staring at Liam’s pale face. "But he’s never had allergies before."

Sophia’s stomach dropped.

Something wasn’t right.

She glanced at the IV drip beside the bed, the clear liquid flowing steadily into Liam’s veins.

A memory flickered—Dr. Bennett mentioning a new medication last week.

Her pulse spiked.

"Ethan," she whispered urgently. "Did they change his medication?"

His gaze snapped to hers, realization dawning.

Before he could respond, the heart monitor let out a piercing alarm.

Liam’s body jerked violently.

Sophia screamed.

Nurses rushed in, shoving them aside as they worked frantically.

Ethan gripped Sophia’s shoulders, his fingers digging in.

"This wasn’t an accident," he growled, eyes burning with fury.

And in that moment, Sophia knew—

Someone had tried to kill their son.

The boredom was crushing. Absolutely soul-crushing. Weekends were bearable because Liam was home, but weekdays? Pure torture.

Scarlett and Natalie were busy with their jobs all day. So were my parents. I'd hired Elizabeth to manage The Hope Foundation's daily operations. Even if I dropped by, there’d be nothing for me to do except maybe sign a few documents.

Over the past week, we’d grown close with Lucas Montgomery. I learned he owned a construction company, started two years ago, and it was thriving. Which meant he, too, was unavailable during the day.

I was so bored I actually considered going back to work. At five months pregnant, I still had time before the baby arrived. But instead, I grabbed my phone and dialed.

"Hello, Mrs. Delaney! How are you?" I asked brightly.

We lived in the same neighborhood, and she’d called me a few days ago. Her high school daughter was failing biology, and she’d asked if I could tutor her.

"I’m wonderful, dear! So glad to hear from you. And you?" Her cheerful voice made me smile.

"I’m great, thanks." I hesitated. "I was calling to see if you’re still interested in the tutoring?"

I prayed she hadn’t found someone else. Though even if she had, other parents had reached out too.

"Oh, absolutely! It’s been stressing me out. I admit, I’ve been praying you’d change your mind."

When she first asked, I’d just started my leave. I’d refused, not realizing how mind-numbingly dull staying home would be.

"Perfect. How about after school? She can come to my place."

Afternoons worked fine. Maybe I could also help with our discreet side business. I couldn’t be publicly involved, but research? That I could do. While Scarlett and Natalie focused on their jobs, I could scout products.

"That’s perfect. Will you charge weekly or per session?" she asked, still upbeat.

"It’s free, Mrs. Delaney. I’m doing this to pass the time."

Silence. For a moment, I thought she’d hung up.

"Are… are you serious?" she finally stammered.

"Completely. Have her come by today, and we’ll start right away."

I didn’t need the money. Between liquid assets and investments, my next three generations could live comfortably.

Teaching was a passion, not a paycheck.

"O-okay. Thank you so much! She’ll be there after school," she said, still stunned.

"You’re welcome."

After hanging up, I called three more parents who’d asked for tutoring. Their reactions were identical—shocked disbelief when I said it was free. They kept asking if I was sure.

By the third call, it hit me: they knew nothing about me except that I was a teacher. We lived in a middle-class neighborhood. Unlike the elite, who thrived on gossip, these people were too busy working to care about tabloids.

That made me happy. I loved being treated like everyone else. No special treatment just because of my bank account.

After the calls, I sank onto the couch, grinning. For the first time in weeks, I felt accomplished. Relaxed. Hopeful.

I wanted to dance. The joy was sudden, overwhelming. No reason, just pure, bubbling happiness.

I headed to my room for a shower.

The hot water melted the last of my tension. I lingered under the spray before stepping out.

My closet was packed with new clothes—replacements for the ones Ethan Blackwood had bought. I chose a cream bodycon dress and slipped it on.

The mirror reflected a woman glowing with pregnancy.

I looked damn good.