From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer novel Chapter 82

**Chapter 6**

As I prepared to walk away, a familiar voice sliced through the air, halting me in my tracks. “Nina.” It was Fiona, her tone dripping with a mix of surprise and something more sinister.

I fought back the surge of bitterness that threatened to bubble over and turned around, feigning a casual demeanor as if I had just now noticed them standing there.

Fiona strolled over, her arm entwined with Cedric’s, as if they were the picture of a perfect couple. “Oh, it really is you,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if inspecting a faded photograph.

“Well, who else would it be?” I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended.

“I just couldn’t recognize you in this ghastly state,” she continued, her words laced with schadenfreude that cut deeper than I cared to admit. “I never expected you’d let yourself go like this in just a few days.”

Cedric, silent until now, fixed his gaze on me, his eyes cold and assessing. He seemed to take his time, as if weighing my worth before finally delivering his verdict. “You look terrible. If you’re sick, take some medicine. Don’t go around looking like a ghost. It’s off-putting.”

I felt a wave of anger wash over me, and I prepared to leave, not wanting to engage further. “Don’t bother yourself,” I muttered, attempting to keep my composure.

Fiona let out a derisive snort behind me. “Nina, do you think you’re clever?”

I turned back, a fire igniting within me. “Don’t think I can’t see through your little tricks!”

“You just knew we’d be here for the prenatal check-up, so you picked this moment to put on this weak act and pretend to bump into us.” Her smirk was infuriating.

“You don’t really think he will feel sorry for you, do you?”

I narrowed my eyes at her, my heart racing. “Miss Miller, is it a lack of confidence in yourself or in the gentleman beside you?”

“Just a chance encounter, and you can imagine so much. You’re so tense. It seems… he doesn’t care for you as much as you think,” I added, casting a significant glance at Cedric before turning away, feeling victorious as I walked off.

Fiona was left behind, her foot stamping in frustration, a child denied her toy.

Time slipped away like sand through my fingers, and before I knew it, a month had passed.

During this time, the doctor had been relentless, calling me multiple times, his voice filled with urgency. “You need to be hospitalized as soon as possible,” he insisted. “Your condition can’t be delayed any longer.”

Yet, I hadn’t been idle either. I had attempted to reach Cedric, but my calls went unanswered. It was only after several tries that I realized he had blocked my number, a finality that stung more than I anticipated.

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