A week later.
Helena was in her element. The Trauma Center at St. Luke's was chaos, and she loved it. Here, she wasn't Mrs. Alexander. She was Dr. Lawrence. She was in control.
She was suturing a laceration on a construction worker's arm when a nurse poked her head in.
"Dr. Lawrence? There's a... situation in VIP 3."
"I'm busy," Helena said, not looking up.
"It's Mr. Alexander. He brought a patient."
Helena tied off the stitch. She stripped off her bloody gloves. "Of course he did."
She walked to the VIP wing. She pushed open the door to Room 3.
Authur was sitting on the leather sofa, scrolling on his phone. In the hospital bed lay a young woman with perfectly curled hair and a face full of makeup. It was Bonnie Le, an Instagram model Helena recognized from the tabloids.
Bonnie was clutching her flat stomach, looking tragic.
"Helena!" Authur grinned, looking up. "Meet Bonnie. She says she's carrying my baby."
Bonnie let out a whimper. "Authur, don't be so mean. Dr. Lawrence might be upset."
Helena didn't blink. She picked up the chart at the end of the bed. It held a single sheet with a hastily scribbled chief complaint: 'Abdominal discomfort due to possible joy.'
"Last menstrual period?" Helena asked, clicking a pen.
Bonnie blinked. "Um... last month? I just feel pregnant. Morning sickness and everything."
"Lie back," Helena ordered coolly, setting the chart down. She didn't reach for a stethoscope.
Bonnie lay back, pulling up her designer t-shirt.
"I want an ultrasound," Bonnie pouted. "I want to see the picture."
"An ultrasound won't show much if you've only just started feeling morning sickness," Helena said flatly. "But we can certainly start the official process."
Authur snorted. He was enjoying this. He didn't believe Bonnie either. He just wanted to see Helena squirm.
Helena ignored him, her professional mask firmly in place.
"Well," Helena said, her voice sickly sweet. "If you are pregnant with an Alexander heir, protocol dictates I inform Mrs. Alexander immediately."
Bonnie's eyes widened. "What?"
"My mother-in-law," Helena continued, pulling out her phone. "She's very particular about heirs. First, we'll need a blood draw for a full genetic panel and toxicology screen. Then we'll begin the HCG doubling tests-that's a blood draw every 48 hours for the next two weeks to confirm viability. If all that checks out, she'll have you airlifted to the family estate in the Catskills. Total bed rest. No phone. No internet. 24-hour surveillance. Organic diet only. For nine months."
Helena tapped her screen. "I'm dialing her now."
Bonnie sat up, panic setting in. No phone? No Instagram? For nine months?
"Wait!" Bonnie squeaked. "I... maybe I'm just late. Stress, you know?"
"Are you sure?" Helena hovered her thumb over the call button. "The phlebotomist is just outside. Better to be safe. The helicopter can be here in ten minutes."
"No!" Bonnie scrambled out of bed. "I'm sure! It was a false alarm! I just got my period! Right now!"
She grabbed her purse and practically ran out of the room.
Authur watched her go, then turned to Helena. He wasn't laughing anymore. He was studying her.
"You're terrifying," he said.
"I'm efficient," Helena replied, clipping the chart back onto the bed. "Next time you want to make me jealous, bring someone who understands basic biology. I have patients waiting."
She turned on her heel and walked out.
Authur watched her walk away, the white coat flapping behind her like a cape. For the first time, he didn't see a gold digger. He saw a worthy opponent.
