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Chapter 357
Chapter 357
Sylvie flinched in surprise and instinctively reached out to catch it.
But Audrey swatted her hand away and spat onto the ground without hesitation.
She pointed to Sylvie’s bag. Sylvie, quickly catching on, handed the hot dog to the nearby bodyguard, rummaged through her bag for a cup, unscrewed the lid, and passed it over.
Audrey took a sip and swished the water around her mouth.
Sylvie offered her a tissue. Audrey wiped her mouth, leaned back, and drew in a deep breath. Her eyes were rimmed with tears from the gagging, and she pressed her fingers lightly to the corners.
“I used to be fine eating that,” she murmured.
“There’s no scientific consensus on why pregnancy changes a woman’s taste,” Sylvie replied gently. “But it’s generally believed to be hormonal. So if something you loved suddenly repulses you, or something you hated becomes a craving, it’s completely normal.”
Audrey glanced down at the sauerkraut hot dog.
She still wanted it. But the babies, it seemed, didn’t.
She nudged her chin toward Sylvie, motioning for her to eat it instead. Sylvie shook her head. As a nutritionist, she had standards for her own diet, and a sauerkraut hot dog definitely didn’t make the cut.
Audrey hesitated, reluctant to throw it away. She turned toward the bodyguard behind them.
He remained stone–faced.
She raised an eyebrow at Sylvie, who gave a small sigh, turned, and handed the hot dog to him. “Here. You can have it.”
A towering man in black, trailing behind two women, holding a lone hot dog with no expression, it was a strangely comical sight.
Back in the car, Audrey tucked a pillow behind her lower back and immediately felt relief.
Her belly had grown heavier, and she’d developed the habit of bracing her lower back whenever she stood. But the longer she did, the more her shoulders began to ache.
She was only seven and a half months along. The coming weeks would bring even greater discomfort.
Soon, Yann would probably insist she stop going out altogether.
-A wheelchair might be safer, but it squeezed her belly uncomfortably. Audrey hated the feeling.
She had just closed her eyes to rest when Hugo returned. The sound of the door opening jolted her upright.
“Well? Was it him?”
Hugo slid into the front passenger seat and turned to report.
“He says his name is Corey. Hogan’s his cousin.”
Disappointment flickered across Audrey’s face, only to be replaced by a flicker of hope, She grabbed the seat in front of her. “Then he must know where Hogan is!”
Hugo glanced briefly at Sylvie.
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And Sylvie nodded slightly.
Having been with Audrey for some time, they’d developed an unspoken understanding. From Sylvie’s look, Hugo could gauge whether Audrey was emotionally stable enough to handle the truth.
“Corey said he hasn’t seen Hogan since the lawsuit with Prosperity Rising Estates. His parents…”
Hogan’s parents had been devastated when they heard George had jumped from the construction site to demand his wages. They assumed Hogan had met the same fate.
The shock was too much. One passed away, then the other.
Hogan had a son. He’d been around during the lawsuit. But after receiving his father’s unpaid wages and compensation, he sold their house back home at a bargain and disappeared without a word.
Sylvie kept a close watch on Audrey’s face.
She knew Audrey was composed, but there was always a risk.
If anything pushed her too far, neither she nor Hugo could afford to be unprepared.
She reached out, intending to hold Audrey’s hand and steady her.
Audrey took a slow, deep breath. “Got it.”
Sylvie blinked, wondering, ‘That’s it? She’s okay?‘
Her hand hovered in midair for a second before she pulled it back and silently offered Audrey the cup again.
Audrey didn’t take it. Her elbow rested on the armrest, chin propped against her palm, gaze drifting toward the window.
She didn’t know Hogan’s son well. But she’d seen him once. He’d been on site when she went to find George, pestering Hogan for money. He had no job, loafing about like he had all the time in the world.
Given his personality, she figured he’d flaunt his compensation money and strut through the neighborhood just to show he was living large. But instead, he vanished, quietly and completely.
It didn’t add up.
“Let’s just go back,” Audrey said softly.
Hugo gave the driver a subtle signal, and the car pulled away in silence.
When Yann walked in, he saw Audrey by the window, lost in thought, her gaze fixed on the snow–covered pines that hadn’t yet fully thawed.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Hmm?” Audrey turned, her smile bright and effortless. “Nothing at all. What brings you home so early?”
He didn’t tell her Hugo had called. He had dropped everything the moment he heard and come straight back, unable to stay calm at work.
“Time for some prenatal education,” he said instead, pulling out a pair of over–ear headphones.
Since the babies had made it clear they weren’t fans of current events, he figured they’d have better luck with stories.
He gently helped her recline onto the sofa, tucking a cushion behind her back and adjusting her coat until she looked completely at ease. Then he unbuttoned her outer layer, exposing her belly.
With careful hands, he placed the headphones over her stomach.
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The cold made her squirm slightly, and just then, a firm little bump pushed out beneath the skin.
“Ow!” she exclaimed, quickly placing her hand over it to soothe.
Yann laid his large, dry–warm palm across the spot. The movement quieted almost instantly,
He turned to Audrey with a quiet smile, eyes gleaming, clearly waiting for praise.
“You’re amazing!
“Father of the year!
“They love you the most!”
His grin widened until it was crooked, practically glowing from the inside out.
Yann tried to stay composed, but his attempts were futile in front of his wife.
He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing outright, then picked up his phone and began playing an audio file.
“What’s that?” Audrey asked, watching him fiddle with the screen.
“Fairy tales.”
“Oh.” She closed her eyes, settling into the moment, as if aligning herself spiritually with the babies.
She couldn’t hear the actual content, just the gentle vibrations through her belly, but almost immediately, the little ones calmed.
That was a good sign.
Audrey began to swing her feet lazily, while Yann gently massaged her legs. They chatted idly, their voices soft in the quiet room.
Suddenly, another bump appeared, hard enough to knock one side of the headphones off entirely.
They exchanged a look. Yann bent down, picked them up, and gently set them back in place. But no sooner had he adjusted them than a second bump from the other side popped them off again.
“Let me hear it,” Audrey said, holding out her hand.
Yann hesitated for a moment, then handed the headphones to her.
She raised an eyebrow at him and then pressed them to her ears. A deep, serious voice echoed inside, pronounced, precise, and oddly formal.
“You recorded this?”
He nodded. “They don’t like the news, so I recorded a few stories for them. The Little Prince, Cinderella…”
Audrey held up a hand to stop him, gently.
The choices were solid, classics, and full of meaning.
But Yann, a corporate boss who spent his days in boardrooms, read them like he was addressing shareholders. His tone alone could send a room full of executives scrambling.
For unborn babies who had yet to experience the world, the delivery was intimidating.
Not wanting to hurt his feelings, Audrey shifted to a gentler tone, like a teacher guiding a particularly eager student.
“The stories you picked are perfect, really thoughtful, and full of wisdom. They’ll help the babies understand the world, and grow into good people…”
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She paused for effect, then added with playful gravity, “But your love is a bit too intense. They’re still tiny. They’re not ready to carry that much emotional weight.”
Yann listened quietly, then turned to look at her belly, as if silently questioning the babies themselves.
A knock came at the door.
“Mrs. Winifred,” the housekeeper called politely from outside. “Mr. Hale is here to see you.”
“Coming!” Audrey called, quickly straightening her coat. She grabbed Yann’s hand and pulled him along, “Let’s go. We need to find out if that forensic genius is really his kid!”
Gossip about Quentin was juicier than any bedtime story.
She was hooked, and if she was, the babies probably were too.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
