Chapter 6: Secret
[Sarah]
“Mrs. Pierce, given the complications we’re seeing, bed rest is non–negotiable. Any significant stress could threaten the pregnancy.”
I wrapped my arms protectively around my midsection. “How serious is it?”
“With proper care and rest, we can manage the risks.” The doctor typed rapidly into her
–
tablet. “But you need to understand this isn’t just about following medical advice. Your
body is telling us it’s under too much strain.”
The irony wasn’t lost on me. Three months ago, my biggest concern had been my MIT
thesis defense. Now I sat in a private hospital suite that cost more per night than my mother’s monthly rent, carrying high–risk Pierce twins while their father plotted to end
our marriage.
“I assume you’re receiving support at home?” Dr. Chen’s tone suggested she’d noticed my
silence.
“It’s… complicated.” I smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from my dress. “My husband
recently woke from his coma, and he doesn’t know about the pregnancy yet.”
Understanding flickered across her face. “Ah. The Pierce Technologies CEO.” She set down
her tablet. “Miss – may I call you Sarah? – I’ve seen many young women in similar
situations. Wealthy families, complex marriages, high expectations. But right now, your priority needs to be your health and these babies.”
“I know.” My voice sounded small even to my own ears. “I just… I need a little time to figure out how to tell him.”
She wrote out several prescriptions, her penmanship as precise as her manner. “One week. That’s how long you can reasonably keep this private. After that, the risks increase significantly.”
The autumn air bit through my light jacket as I made my way to my mother’s apartment. The modest brick building stood in stark contrast to the gleaming towers of the hospital I’d just left. A nurse’s salary didn’t stretch far, but she had always managed to make any space feel like home.
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Chapter 6: Secret
I found her folding laundry, still in her scrubs from her night shift. Her face lit up when she saw me, then quickly shifted to concern. “Sarah? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“Nothing,” I lied, accepting her warm hug. “Just missed you.”
She pulled back, studying my face with the shrewd assessment that had served her through decades of nursing. “You’re pale. Have you been eating properly in that
mansion?”
Before I could answer, voices drifted up from the stairwell. “…can’t believe Margaret’s still working hospital shifts. With her daughter married to Theodore Pierce…”
My mother’s spine stiffened, but her voice remained steady. “Mrs. Henderson from 3B. Always wondering why I haven’t retired to the Hamptons.” Her smile held decades of practiced dignity. “Tea?”
We settled in her tiny kitchen, the familiar scent of Earl Grey wrapping around us like a comfort blanket. I watched her measure loose leaves with the same precision she used for medications, and my throat tightened. How could I tell her about the pregnancy when I couldn’t even admit how terrified I was?
“Mom…” I started, then stopped as she set down her cup with unusual force.
“Sarah.”
“I’ve respected your privacy about this marriage. But I’m still your mother, and something is clearly wrong.”
For a moment, I wanted to tell her everything – the IVF, the twins, Theodore’s awakening, my growing panic. But I saw the shadows under her eyes from double shifts, heard Mrs. Henderson’s snide comments echoing up the stairs. I couldn’t add my burdens to hers.
“It’s just been… an adjustment,” I said finally. “The Pierce family has a lot of expectations.”
She reached across the table to squeeze my hand. “You’ve never let anyone else’s expectations define you before. Don’t start now.”
The sun was setting by the time I returned to the Pierce estate. Mrs. Thompson intercepted me in the marble foyer, her usual composure slightly ruffled.
Chapter 6: Secret
“Mr. Pierce is at physical therapy,” she informed me. “He’s been… resistant to the recommended protocols.”
I translated the diplomatic phrasing: Theodore was probably terrorizing his physical therapists the same way he’d demolished Nathan’s career. “I’ll stay in my wing until
dinner.”
“About that…” Mrs. Thompson hesitated. “Mr. Pierce has requested to dine alone this
evening.”
Of course he had. I retreated to my designated space, trying to ignore how the mansion’s opulence felt more suffocating than luxurious. My laptop chose that moment to emit an alarming crack, the screen freezing on a critical email from my MIT research group.
“No, no, no…” I jiggled the power button frantically. The screen remained dark. The AI ethics translation was due tomorrow, and the only copy of my work was stuck on a USB
drive…
I glanced toward the west wing, where Theodore’s private office lay. Mrs. Thompson had
mentioned he’d be occupied with PT for at least another hour.
“Miss Sarah?” Mrs. Thompson appeared in my doorway, as if summoned by my thoughts.
“Is everything alright?”
I held up my dead laptop. “I need to access the translation software for an MIT deadline.
But my laptop…”
She studied me for a long moment, weighing loyalty to her employer against whatever
maternal instinct I seemed to trigger in her. “Mr. Pierce is very particular about his
private space.”
“I know. I’ll be quick, I promise.”
Another pause. “Ten minutes,” she said finally. “I’ll watch for his return.”
Theodore’s office felt like a temple to corporate power. Moonlight spilled through floor- to–ceiling windows, highlighting rows of patents and industry awards. Everything was meticulously organized – not a paper out of place, not a speck of dust on the massive
desk.
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Chapter 6: Secret
My hands shook slightly as I powered up his computer. The lack of password protection surprised me until I remembered the office itself was secured by biometric locks. Who would dare breach Theodore Pierce’s private domain?
Me, apparently.
I had just located the translation software when my finger slipped on the trackpad, opening the wrong folder. I moved to close it, then froze. The screen filled with photographs of a woman – dozens of them, spanning what looked like several years.
“So this is why,” I whispered to the empty office. The woman Theodore had loved. The reason for his coldness, his fury at being tied to a stranger through his family’s manipulation.
I closed the folder with trembling fingers, suddenly desperate to escape this glimpse into Theodore’s closely guarded heart. The translation could wait. Some boundaries weren’t meant to be crossed, even accidentally.
“Did you find what you needed?” Mrs. Thompson asked as I hurried past.
“Yes,” I lied, the ghost of that unknown woman’s smile haunting my thoughts. “Everything
I needed to know.”
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