Called Off the Wedding, Left Him Bankrupt novel Chapter 39

Benedict hung up the phone and stepped inside, finding Cynthia busy in the living room. He lowered his voice as he spoke.

"There's something at the office I need to take care of."

Cynthia didn't even glance up, her hands still occupied with the laundry.

A flicker of irritation crossed Benedict's face—being ignored grated on him—but he forced himself to remain patient.

"Cynthia, I'll come back another day to visit your grandmother. Please keep her company while I'm away."

This time, Cynthia finally looked at him, her gaze laced with biting sarcasm.

She parted her lips as if to speak, but in the end, said nothing. Instead, she let out a cold laugh, gathered the pile of clothes in her arms, and disappeared into the bedroom.

Benedict frowned, stung by the disappointment in her eyes, leaving him momentarily at a loss.

He glanced over at the tightly shut door to Cynthia's grandmother's room. After a brief hesitation, he walked over and raised his hand to knock, but just then, his phone rang again.

"I'm on my way," he said into the phone, then turned and left without another word.

Meanwhile, Giselle had slipped in the bathroom while showering.

By the time Benedict arrived at the hospital, he found her sitting quietly in the hallway. As soon as she saw him, tears welled up on her pale face. She sniffled, eyes glistening, and opened her arms for comfort.

Benedict went to her and wrapped her in a gentle hug, rubbing her back soothingly.

"What happened? You need to be more careful. What did the doctor say?"

Giselle bit her lip, looking fragile and pitiful as she answered in a trembling voice.

"The doctor said it's nothing serious. It was my fault—I wasn't paying attention and slipped. Thankfully, the baby is okay."

"That's all that matters."

He comforted her softly, but still insisted on seeing the doctor himself to be sure.

The doctor gave them a thorough rundown of precautions, and then made a special point to remind them: during the first trimester, expectant mothers should avoid strenuous activity—and abstain from intimacy.

Benedict showed no reaction, his expression calm and unreadable.

Her eyes reddened instantly. "Is Cynthia the one asking you to come home?"

Benedict said nothing.

Sensing his resolve, Giselle released her grip, forcing a smile.

"All right, go then. I'll be fine on my own."

She turned away, her back to him.

The embrace she'd hoped for never came—only the sound of his footsteps echoing down the hall.

She spun around just in time to catch his hand pulling the door shut behind him.

Her face darkened, the tears in her eyes vanishing, replaced by a fierce look of resentment and ambition.

Jaw clenched, Giselle stared at the closed door for a long moment before pulling out her phone and dialing a number.

"Auntie, it's Giselle—we spoke before. I don't know if Benedict told you, but I'm pregnant. The doctor says I have signs of a threatened miscarriage. I don't have any family or friends here in Cloudcrest City, so I'm calling to ask—could you please come to the city and help take care of me?"