Chapter 4 THE HOSPITAL

"Come on, man. It's my time to go home," the doctor said, his voice weary and laced with frustration. "I'm only here because you called me in and asked me to stay back. Let me go home, get some rest, and eat something." His voice trailed off as he was abruptly interrupted.

"Ten million... and I'll get it in the next few minutes," Johnson asserted, his tone firm and resolute.

A stunned silence settled over the room. The doctor leaned in closer to Johnson, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Who's this girl that you would spend this kind of money on? You've never been..." But once again, he was cut off.

"Are you taking the offer or not?" Johnson pressed, his expression unwavering.

"Of course," the doctor replied, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I'll just have to tap into your luxury... I'll get right on it."

He smiled, giving Johnson a light pat on the shoulder before he turned and walked away. Johnson sighed heavily, settling into a chair, lost in thought.

His assistant, Ben, approached him cautiously, clearing his throat to get his attention.

"What is it, Ben?" Johnson asked, his eyes still fixed on the ground.

"Master, I wanted to ask if you would like a change of clothes or perhaps some food?" Ben stammered, clearly anxious about Johnson's response.

"Go get me some food, but I'm not leaving here," Johnson replied, his voice polite but firm.

"Yes, Master," Ben responded quickly, hurrying off to fulfill the request.

With a furrowed brow, Johnson pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"Hello Scorpio, put a hold on the investigation about that woman... I need you to investigate everything that occurred this evening regarding Emma Rhema, and I want the information as soon as possible. You have thirty minutes," he instructed before abruptly ending the call.

His demeanor shifted to one of intensity; he was determined to uncover the truth.

---

In the dimly lit hospital ward, the rhythmic beeping of machines echoed softly, underscoring the tense atmosphere.

Emma stirred awake, her heart racing with fright as remnants of a haunting dream clung to her-she had envisioned being struck by a car, and in that dream, she had died.

"My baby... my poor child," she gasped, a wave of panic washing over her.

"You're awake," a deep voice called out. Emma turned to the source, her eyes struggling to make sense of the shadowy figure silhouetted against the window.

"Who are you?" she croaked, glancing around the sterile room. "Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital," the man announced, flipping on a brighter light that flooded the space. As he stepped closer, she caught a glimpse of his striking features.

"You're safe now," he said soothingly, extending his hand toward her, yet she instinctively recoiled, fear etched across her face.

He chuckled softly, retracting his hand. "My car nearly hit you, but you passed out just before it could happen, so I rushed you here. You can now call me your savior," he added, flashing her a dazzling smile that was enough to make anyone weak in the knees.

Emma was taken aback. She had never seen a man so breathtaking; his perfect set of teeth gleamed like a Hollywood star. Her gaze lingered on him, her mouth agape in disbelief.

He brushed his fingers lightly against her cheek. "If my looks are that shocking, maybe you should take me home and make me your husband," he teased, grinning wider.

Emma quickly regained her composure. "No... I didn't stare like that," she protested, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

**°°°How can someone be this handsome and yet make me blush like a schoolgirl?°°°** she thought, nervously fiddling with her hair.

Suddenly, a table was wheeled into her line of sight, laden with an array of tantalizing dishes.

"I figured you might be hungry, so I made sure to prepare a feast for you," Johnson said, gesturing proudly at the spread before her.

"Excuse me? Do I look hungry to you?" Emma retorted, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice, though she was unsure why.

"You're not?" Johnson quipped playfully.

"No, I am not," she insisted firmly, her pride unyielding.

Just then, her stomach rumbled audibly, cutting through the tension like a knife.

"Well, it seems your stomach disagrees with you," Johnson chuckled, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Emma's face flushed with embarrassment. Of all times for her stomach to betray her! Still, the pangs of hunger were undeniable.

"Fine, you win, but you're still a stranger, and I can't eat food from a stranger," she said, crossing her arms defiantly.

"My name is Johnson," he replied, his tone earnest. "Can you eat now?"

"Mr. Johnson, it's nice to meet you," she said, extending her hand with a hesitant smile.

Johnson found himself captivated by her. Even with her messy hair, she exuded beauty; her lips resembled ripe apples, and her brownish eyes held a mesmerizing depth. Perhaps it was just him who felt this way.

"Do I have something on my face?" Emma asked, breaking his reverie.

"Huh?" he replied, momentarily lost in thought.

"I've been holding out my hand for a handshake for the last minute," she pointed out, a teasing smile curling her lips.

Realizing he had spaced out again, Johnson felt a twinge of embarrassment. He hadn't lost focus like this before. He noticed the bodyguards peering in from the transparent door, their expressions mirroring his surprise.

"No, no, no! You don't have anything on your face. It's nice to meet you too," he said, smiling as he reached for her hand, but she hastily withdrew it, grabbing a spoon instead.

"Sorry, you missed your chance to shake hands with this angel. Pray you get another opportunity, but for now, I'm starving to death!" she giggled, her laughter like music to his ears.

Johnson relished this playful side of her and felt a pang of disappointment that he couldn't hold her hand. Yet he was confident that there would be many opportunities in the future-if not, he could certainly create them.

As Emma dug into her meal with gusto, her sharp hunger evident, a thought flashed through her mind. "How long have I been here?" she asked, her brows furrowing in curiosity.

Johnson shifted in his chair, leaning forward to answer her. "You've been here for two days. You fainted due to mental exhaustion," he explained, his voice steady and reassuring.

" Mentally drained?", Emma whispered softly to herself, her voice barely above a murmur.

Johnson, sitting nearby, recalled something vividly from the nights before. "during your rest, you kept saying words in your sleep... it was the same word over and over-'baby, baby'," he said, his brow furrowing in concern. "You even woke up in a panic, crying out, 'My child, my poor child!'"

Emma's eyes widened as she processed his words. "I said all of that?" she asked a hint of disbelief in her voice.

With gentle intent, Johnson responded, "Yes, you did. But now I need to ask, is there a child somewhere you're worried about? I could try to find her for you." His tone was earnest, filled with a desire to help.

Suddenly, a rush of memories flooded Emma's mind, bringing with it the startling realization of what had led to her collapsing on the roadside.

She instinctively placed a hand over her stomach, a gesture both protective and revealing. Her fingers lightly grazed her abdomen as she gazed down, lost in thought.

Johnson observed her every movement, the way her expression shifted from confusion to contemplation. A thought began to form in his mind, one that he felt was both bold and necessary to voice. "Or... are you pregnant?" he ventured, the question hanging in the air, heavy with implications.