"Sir, what the hell is going on?!"
Kalix didn't even need to turn to know who said that. Only one person in the world had the audacity to speak to him formally and yet throw in completely inappropriate words with it—Lionel Vance, his long-suffering and fiercely loyal assistant.
Kalix didn't respond immediately. He tightened his grip around the unconscious woman in his arms, adjusting her so her head leaned more comfortably against his shoulder. His gaze flickered to Lionel, who was jogging toward him across the underground parking area with eyes wide in disbelief.
Kalix was still processing everything himself.
One minute he was stepping into the elevator, heading for his office like any other day, and the next—
She fell.
Right into him.
He didn't even remember deciding to catch her. It was reflex, instinct. He pressed the elevator button to the basement like muscle memory, lifted her bridal-style before her body hit the ground, and didn't stop moving until they reached the garage.
"Hospital," Kalix said, short and sharp.
Lionel blinked. "Hospital? Wait, who is she? Are you okay? Is she okay? What the actual—"
"Get in the car, Lionel," Kalix said, voice low.
Lionel shut his mouth and rushed to open the back door.
Kalix ducked in with the woman still in his arms, cradled as gently as something fragile, and settled in. As soon as the door shut, Lionel took his place behind the wheel and peeled out of the garage.
The tires screeched faintly as they hit the street. Up front, Lionel gripped the wheel tight, but Kalix could feel it—the occasional glance tossed back through the rearview mirror. Not subtle, either. Curious, maybe concerned. Probably both.
"Focus on the road if you still love your life, Lionel," Kalix said flatly, not looking up.
Lionel muttered under his breath but didn't deny it. "Seriously though, Kal. What happened? Who is she?"
Kalix looked down at the woman's face.
Her head rested against his chest, breath shallow but steady, brows slightly furrowed even in sleep. Her features were delicate, framed by dark hair that looked even darker in contrast to her pale skin.
He remembered her.
She was the woman from the bar. The one who had been drinking cheap whiskey and swearing at God like they had a personal beef. The one who laughed bitterly and said she just wanted a decent job and a man who wouldn't run when things got hard. The one who kissed him like she didn't give a damn and made him forget who he was for one wild, messy night.
Kalix's jaw tensed slightly.
"She fainted in the elevator," he finally said.
The rest of the story? Better to leave it out for now.
Lionel snorted. "Yeah, I saw that part. You carrying her like a Disney prince in distress? That was new."
Kalix ignored him.
They reached the hospital within minutes, and Lionel sprang out to alert the staff. A nurse rushed to meet them with a wheelchair, but Kalix shook his head and carried her inside himself. She was light in his arms—too light, he noticed, like she hadn't eaten properly in days.
Once she was settled in a private room, the doctor came quickly. Kalix waited outside, arms folded across his chest, while Lionel paced nearby.
"You sure you don't know her, Kal?" Lionel asked, stopping beside him.
Kalix didn't answer at first. His eyes stayed locked on the closed door of the examination room.
"Yeah. Why?"
Lionel chuckled. "No reason. It's just… I've seen you ignore screaming women trying to throw themselves at you. And here you are—carrying one like a knight in shining armor."
Kalix was spared from more of Lionel's sarcasm when the door finally opened. A man in a white coat stepped out, clipboard in hand.
"She's stable," the doctor said with a small smile. "She fainted due to fatigue and low blood sugar. Some stress too, maybe, but nothing alarming. She's resting comfortably now. And the baby's fine too."
Silence.
Kalix's brows twitched. Lionel straightened.
"The baby?" Kalix asked slowly.
The doctor nodded. "Yes, she's pregnant. Early, but very much so."
There was a pause.
"She's pregnant?" Kalix repeated.
"Yes," the doctor replied. "Oh—" he smiled, assuming. "You didn't know your wife was expecting?"
Kalix held up a hand. "First, she's not my wife. Second, are you sure she's pregnant?"
The doctor's smile didn't falter. "I've been doing this for three years, sir. She's pregnant. But if you want a second opinion, I'm happy to call in a colleague."
"No need," Lionel said quickly, stepping between them. "Thank you, doctor. We appreciate it. Which room is she in?"
"Room 218. She's awake now, but still resting."
Kalix nodded once and headed down the hall. Lionel trailed behind, but stopped when Kalix paused at the door.
"Wait here," Kalix said.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside, then quietly shut it behind him.
The hospital room was all soft white light and that too-clean, too-quiet calm. The monitor beeped steadily next to the bed, the only real sound in the space.
Elira was sitting up, her back against the pillows, a dazed look in her eyes as she turned toward the sound of the door.
Their eyes met.
Her lips parted in surprise. "You—"
Kalix walked slowly to the foot of the bed, stopping only when he was close enough to feel her breath hitch.
He didn't sit. Didn't touch her.
Just stared.
Her wide brown eyes were full of questions, confusion, fear.
He leaned down slightly, just enough to bring his face closer to hers, his tone soft but firm.
"Are you pregnant with my child?"