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Tracy pulled a small pill bottle from her bag, shook out one tablet, and swallowed it dry.
The bitterness spread instantly, her brows knitting together as she forced it down. She steadied her voice and spoke into the phone. “No need. I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Alright. I’ll wait on the left side of the entrance,” Sam replied.
“Okay.”
She ended the call, but the stabbing pain didn’t ease. If anything, it worsened with every small movement. Her entire body felt hollow, drained of strength.
It was like an army of ants gnawed at her from the inside, pain crawling through her limbs, her bones, everywhere.
Pressing her lips together until they bled, Tracy staggered out of the restroom. Each step was unstable, her hand gripping the wall just to keep from collapsing.
“Tracy, what’s wrong?”
Someone’s arms caught her just as she swayed.
She lifted her head weakly—and met a pair of deep black eyes filled with worry.
Sean. Dressed in black as always, his jawline sharp, his gaze steady. In his reflection, she saw her own face, pale and bloodless.
Her lips trembled with a faint smile. “My stomach hurts.”
Sean’s brows drew low, voice heavy. “Hurts like this? This isn’t just stomach trouble.”
Her lips, chewed raw, glistened with blood. She said nothing.
“I’ll take you to the hospital.”
Without another word, he scooped her into his arms and strode toward the exit.
Heads turned all around. Conversations stopped.
“Oh my God-was that the Johnson heir just now? And the girl he’s carrying-who is she? He looks… anxious.”
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17:03 Thu, Feb 19
Chapter 20 Tracy, Can You Stop Making a Scene
“He covered her face. None of us saw clearly.”
“Could it be the White family’s eldest daughter? Weren’t they rumored to have an engagement?”
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“No, I just saw her by the doors. And he came straight from the restroom side. That girl isn’t her.”
Across the hall, Chandler and Yvonne had just finished talking with a group. Chandler caught sight of Sean carrying a woman away. From the clothes-it looked like Tracy. He squinted, taking a step forward.
But Yvonne slid deftly into his line of sight, looping her arm through his. “Let’s go over there. My brothers are still waiting for you.”
Distracted, Chandler glanced once more before dismissing it. All the women here dressed alike —he must’ve imagined it. How could Tracy possibly know the Johnson heir?
Outside, a woman called after Sean, “Sean-‘
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He didn’t so much as turn his head. Holding Tracy, he walked straight out.
He laid her in the backseat. “Hospital,” he ordered.
Gary started the engine at once, speeding into the night.
Tracy didn’t last the drive. Her eyelids grew heavy; her body slid into darkness. The last thing she heard was his voice, tight with urgency.
“Tracy, don’t sleep. Stay awake. Tracy…”
But the sound faded, further and further, until there was nothing.
When she opened her eyes again, everything was white. The sting of antiseptic filled her nose.
Turning her head, she saw Sean by the window, speaking into his phone, his back straight and
tense.
Outside, night had fallen. She’d been unconscious for hours. Panic flickered through her-her
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17:03 Thu, Feb 19
Chapter 20 Tracy, Can You Stop Making a Scene
speech. What happened to her slot at the conference?
Sean ended his call and approached. “Awake?”
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Tracy nodded faintly, reaching for her phone with trembling fingers. The screen lit up: past eight o’clock.
Missed calls stacked the screen-mostly from Sam, some from Jennie. Her hand shook too much to scroll further.
At the Gaunt house, Chandler had just come home. Jennie hurried to him, anxious. “Sir, Ms. Tracy hasn’t returned. I’ve called, but she won’t answer. Could something have happened?”
His step faltered, then he scoffed. Still, he said, “I know.”
He changed his shoes and dialed her number. This time, she picked up almost instantly.
His lips twisted into a sneer. “Ignore everyone else, but you answer for me. Waiting just for my call, huh?”
“Where are you?”
Tracy looked down at her hospital gown. “Hospital.”
“Hospital?” His voice sharpened, laced with irritation. “Tracy, can you stop making a scene?
“She’s a business partner’s sister. We’re discussing a major deal. And you-what, fake sick until you land yourself in a hospital bed?”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
