At the VIP clinic, I was helping my nine-month pregnant daughter change for her final ultrasound. The moment her shirt slipped off, I felt my breath catch in my throat.

turned toward me, adjusting his cuffs. “You look a bit pale today, Eleanor. VIP medicine can be overwhelming for those used to waiting quietly on the sidelines.”

Beatrice let out a short, sharp laugh.

I didn’t react. I simply folded my hands neatly in my lap. “I assure you, Julian, I’m perfectly comfortable.”

He stepped closer, invading my space, lowering continue reading …