Fated Marriage Spoiled by My Ice Billionaire novel Chapter 17

"Isabelle, what's wrong? You haven't had much of an appetite these past few days." Eleanor was running late as usual, but she rushed over to Isabelle's desk and stared at her pale face with concern.

"I've been looking for a new place to move to. Checked out a bunch of apartments, but none of them feel right." Isabelle set the gift bag down on the floor.

"Hey, now that you're single again, want me to set you up with some cute guys?" Eleanor's face lit up with mischief.

Isabelle gave her a look. "If I wanted to date someone, you think I'd need help? The line of guys after me stretches all the way to two blocks away."

"Right, right! A future famous fashion designer like you won't have any trouble finding guys."

Harrison walked by right then and overheard them. "Oh? Is Ms. Foster looking to date now?"

All three of them shared an awkward laugh.

At lunchtime, everyone headed to the cafeteria.

Isabelle called Brian to schedule a meeting with Damian, and Brian cleared her to go up. She took the elevator straight to the executive floor.

"Need something?" Damian kept his eyes on his computer screen, his expression as neutral as always. But...

Today he was wearing a white shirt with a vest over it, and somehow the whole look made him seem even more commanding than usual.

Is that the white shirt I ordered?

Isabelle walked straight over and set the bag on his desk. "Returning your jacket. Thanks."

Damian glanced at the bag, then looked up at her. "You feeling okay?"

"Um..." After yesterday's conversation, she didn't think they needed to get into personal matters, so she said quickly, "If there's nothing else, Mr. Cross, I should get going."

"Mm."

*****

The dizziness and nausea got worse that afternoon, so Isabelle took off work and went to the hospital.

She was still waiting for her number to be called, and there were plenty of people ahead of her. The grogginess pulled her under, and she dozed off until they finally called her name.

After Isabelle briefly explained her symptoms, the doctor started running through standard questions.

"Name."

"Isabelle."

"Age."

"Twenty-two."

"Did you have sex last month?"

"Yes, but I took the pill."

"The pill is only about ninety percent effective. There's still a small chance of pregnancy even with it. Let's do an ultrasound to check." The doctor was experienced and spoke with a calm, reassuring smile.

The damn pill wasn't even foolproof?

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