Chapter 6 Strength Of A Child

The air thickened the moment Beatrice Langford stepped into the room. For a fleeting second, Suzanne caught it. The sharp glint of calculation in the older woman’s eyes. Beatrice took in the scene, assessing, measuring, before smoothing her expression into one of exaggerated concern. With practiced ease, she softened, her lips curving into a carefully constructed smile as she stepped toward the bed. "Suzanne, darling, you look pale." Her voice was honeyed, her touch light as she placed a perfectly manicured hand on Suzanne’s arm. Almost gentle. Almost sincere. If Suzanne didn’t know better, she might have believed it. But she did know better. "You should be resting," Beatrice continued, voice dipped in faux warmth. "Not exerting yourself with unnecessary stress." Suzanne barely blinked, her body stiff under the weight of the performance. She had long since learned to tolerate Beatrice’s brand of manipulation. The way she played the doting mother-in-law when it suited her. This wasn’t concern. This was an interrogation wrapped in affection. Before Suzanne could speak, Beatrice’s gaze flicked toward Liam. She knew who he was. And she wasn’t pleased. Yet, rather than acknowledge him outright, Beatrice turned back to Suzanne, acting as if Liam’s presence was barely worth noticing. "We’ve been so worried," Beatrice continued, her voice layered with practiced softness. "But of course, the event kept us occupied. We would have come sooner, but you understand. Important commitments." Of course. Suzanne felt the bitterness rise in her throat, but she swallowed it down. Standing behind Beatrice, Charles and Sarah lingered in silence. Their eyes were on her. Judging. Assessing. Charles stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression locked in an impassive mask. He already looked braced for something he wouldn’t like. Sarah stood beside him, her lips pressed together. Her fingers curled and uncurled at her sides, looking almost eager to hear what had brought them all here. Finally, Charles spoke. His voice was flat, but there was an edge beneath it, something sharp waiting to cut. "What’s wrong with her?" Not Suzanne. Not a single trace of concern. No warmth. Just a demand for information. And not to her. He was looking at Liam. Like she wasn’t even in the room. Liam didn’t flinch under Charles’s scrutiny. He remained exactly as he was. Calm. Composed. His hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he observed the situation with cold calculation. Then, without hesitation, he said it. "She’s pregnant." The room turned to stone. For a moment, it was as if the very air had been sucked out, leaving only silence in its wake. Then— "What?" Charles and Sarah spoke at the same time, their voices overlapping in shock, disbelief, maybe even anger. Suzanne, meanwhile, could barely process the words herself. Pregnant. Her breath hitched. Her fingers curled into the sheets beneath her as the reality of it slammed into her like a tidal wave. She was pregnant. The words echoed inside her head, bouncing against the walls of her mind, refusing to settle. Charles’s face twisted into something unreadable. His jaw clenched. His hands tightened at his sides. He looked like a man on the verge of losing control, torn between fury and indifference. Sarah, on the other hand, recovered too quickly. Her expression smoothed into something sickeningly sweet. Her lips curved into a smile so forced it looked painful. "Oh, Suzanne," she breathed, stepping forward as if to offer congratulations. "That’s wonderful news." A lie. It dripped from her voice, from the way her eyes darted toward Charles before she spoke again. This time, directed at him. "This is exactly what you’ve been wanting, isn’t it, Charles?" She nudged him lightly, her voice tight and controlled. Charles didn’t answer. Didn’t so much as blink. His eyes remained locked on Suzanne, burning with something she couldn’t quite place. Rage. Confusion. A mix of both. Liam’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Now that we know she’s pregnant, there are precautions we need to take." His tone was steady and firm. The voice of a man done playing games. "She needs rest. Genuine rest. No stress. No unnecessary strain." He shifted his gaze to Charles and Sarah, as if warning them. "For now, I suggest limiting any public appearances. Any major events should be reconsidered until she’s stable." Charles scoffed, his head tilting in defiance. "Excuse me?" Liam didn’t blink. "Her health and the baby’s health come first." Charles let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "You don’t get to decide what comes first, doctor. This is a Langford matter." "And I’m her doctor," Liam countered, unbothered by Charles’s attempt at intimidation. "Which means her well-being is my priority. Not your business. Not your reputation. Her health. If you care about her at all, you’ll listen." Beatrice, who had remained mostly quiet, suddenly stepped forward, commanding the room with her presence. "Of course, of course," she said smoothly. Her voice was the perfect blend of compromise and manipulation. "We’ll take good care of her. But let’s not be dramatic, shall we? Suzanne is strong. She’ll be fine. And naturally, there are responsibilities that come with this situation." Suzanne’s stomach twisted. There it was. The reminder. That in their eyes, she wasn’t a person. She was an obligation. A duty. And she had just given them a new reason to control her. She inhaled sharply, steeling herself. "I know what I need," she said, her voice measured and unwavering. "And what I need is space. I don’t need any of you deciding what’s best for me." Liam’s gaze flickered toward her, his expression softening for just a moment. He understood. She could see it in the way his jaw tensed. In the way he held himself like he was keeping something restrained. He knew what this family was like. He knew what they would do to her. And he didn’t like it. "Let her rest," he said finally, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I’ll arrange for further monitoring, but the best thing you can do for her right now is respect her needs. That means no more stress. No more pushing her into things she doesn’t want to do." Beatrice’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes darkened slightly. Charles shot Suzanne one last look. Unreadable. Then he turned on his heel and walked out, Sarah following closely behind. Beatrice lingered a second longer before offering one last parting smile. "We’ll talk soon, dear." Then she was gone. The door clicked shut. Silence. A breath Suzanne hadn’t realized she was holding slipped from her lips. She let herself sink back into the pillows, her hand unconsciously resting on her stomach. Pregnant. It still didn’t feel real. But something inside her shifted. This wasn’t just about survival anymore. This was about control. And for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t going to let anyone take it from her. Liam’s voice was quiet but firm. "Suzanne. Raising a child in this family—" She cut him off, her hand tightening over her stomach. "You don’t have the right to speak to me, Liam Carter." Her eyes lifted to his, unyielding. "I’m old enough to know what I want for my baby."