Chapter 472 Oliver, I Think I'm Pregnant 2
Oliver stared in disbelief.
Another child with Sarah?
For several seconds, he couldn't process the news.
Sarah's expression hardened as she pulled away from him. "You're not questioning the paternity, are you?" Her voice turned cold. "If you have any doubts, consider our engagement over. Don't force yourself to accept this child."
"No doubts whatsoever!" Oliver quickly reassured her, then tenderly cradled her stomach, his hands gently caressing her. "Boy or girl?" he asked foolishly.
Sarah swatted his hands away. "I'm only one month along—how would I know the gender?"
Oliver swept her into his arms and carried her toward the bedroom.
Afraid he might try to make love to her, Sarah pounded his shoulder. "Put me down."
Instead, he sat her carefully on the edge of the bed, alternating between touching her feet and her stomach, overwhelmed with joy. Finally, he whispered, "Sarah, our Diana has come back to us."
In the soft morning light, Sarah looked down at Oliver. "It's not Diana," she said quietly. "No matter how many more children we have, Oliver, none of them will be Diana."
They had never spoken of Marigoldia since losing her. Despite the profound pain, neither had mentioned it—a shared wound too deep to touch.
Oliver took Sarah's hand, his blue eyes filled with sorrow. After a long moment, he said hoarsely, "Sarah, I'm so sorry."
Sarah remained silent, lightly tracing his features with her fingertips, offering a faint smile. She couldn't forget, but she had chosen forgiveness.
As the tension eased, Oliver's energy returned. He gazed intently at Sarah. "We're going to the hospital today for a proper checkup."
He playfully touched her stomach. "I'm going to spoil this little one rotten."
Heading downstairs, he instructed Claire, "Make breakfast nutritious but light."
Claire frowned. "Nutritious yet light? Are you the pregnant one? You're more difficult than an expectant mother."
Oliver beamed, buttoning his shirt. "Sarah's pregnant!"
Claire, who knew about his surgery, stood dumbfounded. After recovering, she quipped, "Well, aren't you impressive! If every man had your abilities, we'd never worry about population decline. Apparently nothing can stop you!"
Oliver remained silent.
Despite her teasing, Claire quietly produced a box of folic acid. "Give this to your wife. It's good for early pregnancy—helps with the baby's development."
Oliver examined the box. "Claire, why do you have this? Planning on having children at your age?"
Claire ignored him and went to prepare breakfast before heading to church to pray for Sarah.
Oliver smiled, holding the folic acid.
Later, in the car to the hospital, he handed the box to Sarah. "From Claire. Not sure if it's expired—you should check."
Sarah looked at the date. It was manufactured five years ago, likely purchased when she was pregnant with Diana.
Feeling a pang of sadness but not wanting to spoil the mood, she lied, "It was made just earlier this year."
Oliver accelerated, looking handsome in his expensive clothes. "Seems Claire has not only a love life but a sex life too. I should meet this mystery man and give my approval."
His irreverence made Sarah want to cover his mouth.
At the hospital, tests confirmed Sarah was exactly 42 days pregnant.
The doctor looked Oliver up and down, muttering while writing notes, "Truly a medical miracle."
Oliver ignored the doctor's teasing, more concerned about the baby's health. After some questioning, the doctor smiled. "The baby is perfectly healthy. Very energetic."
Oliver relaxed, glancing at Sarah, who also visibly sighed with relief.
In another wing of the same hospital, Nicholas sat by a window in a private room, staring at a newspaper headline: #Windsor Group President Proposes Successfully; Wedding to Follow Soon
The article featured an engagement photo. Due to time constraints, they'd used an older picture where both Oliver and Sarah looked several years younger—Sarah's face notably fresher than now.
Nicholas gazed at it, transfixed.
Hestia snatched the paper away.
"She's getting married and you're still pining for her," she said bitterly. "You can't let go of either one. How difficult it must be to choose between your goddess and the woman carrying your child."
Nicholas was stunned.
He grabbed Hestia's wrist. "What are you talking about?"
Hestia yanked her arm free.
She'd been holding back for days, and now her fury exploded. "What am I talking about? I'm talking about how your little mistress is pregnant with your child and disappeared! Did you think she could harm you and the Moore family and walk away unscathed? Your grandfather would have ended her if not for the child you planted in her."
"Nicholas Moore, you're quite the stud!"
"You develop feelings for women you sleep with outside our marriage, even get them pregnant. Where does that leave Verity and Isaac? When they grow up and learn their father was playing around and gave them half-siblings, how will they feel?"
Nicholas remained calm. "They're all my children."
Hestia laughed coldly. "But not your only ones! Nicholas, I understand now—since you don't care for me, Verity and Isaac mean nothing to you either. We might as well divorce. I'll take them with me."
Nicholas looked at her.
After a moment, he said flatly, "If you don't want to stay married, then let's divorce."
Hestia froze.
She'd only mentioned the children to manipulate him, hoping he'd reconsider. Instead, he'd immediately agreed. Hestia nearly lost control, wanting to throw something, but this wasn't their bedroom at the Moore estate—people were watching, and she couldn't make a scene.
Finally, Hestia left, seething.
She hated Sarah, hated Azalea, hated everyone in the Moore family—yet somehow, she couldn't bring herself to hate Nicholas.
Their rare meeting as husband and wife had ended miserably.
After Hestia left, Nicholas smoked a cigarette.
He studied the newspaper again.
Though he tried to hide his feelings, he couldn't help seeking news of her.
Men were creatures of both impulse and reason.
When Nicholas had been with Azalea, he'd lost himself in passion, enjoying her beauty. Yet even the news of her pregnancy couldn't compete with learning of Sarah's upcoming marriage.
After finishing his cigarette, his mouth felt bitter. He decided to go for a walk.
Two orderlies handcuffed him.
He filled out a form for a checkup and was allowed to wander the grounds.
Life was full of unexpected encounters.
In the hospital courtyard, Nicholas gazed up at pigeons flying freely overhead, his expression distant. Footsteps approached—a man and woman talking.
He lowered his eyes, then froze.
Oliver supported Sarah carefully, his face radiating barely contained joy. Occasionally, he would touch her stomach.
Nicholas's eyes darkened—she was pregnant.
Sarah saw him too.
Their eyes met in a moment that felt eternal, reminiscent of that morning when he'd asked if she planned to accept Oliver, if she intended to remarry him, and she'd said "yes."
He realized he regretted his impulsiveness that morning. Had he acted differently, she might still have visited her family home after marriage, and they could have shared private moments—her painting while he read nearby.
Tears welled in Nicholas's eyes.
He kept watching Sarah, but she didn't pause for even a second as they passed each other. In that moment, who could remember that year at the hospital, when he sat reading beneath the bay tree, looking so peaceful and beautiful?
Sarah had forgotten. Even Nicholas himself had forgotten.
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