Page 146 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

I turn away.

Whatever my article was supposed to be, it isn't that.

I pack my laptop into my bag, grab my coat, and head home before my stomach decides for me again.

***

Two days later, I am sitting on the paper-covered examination table in my doctor’s office with a bottle of water in one hand and the stale taste of nausea still clinging to the back of my throat.

I came here expecting something simple.

A prescription for the nausea. Maybe antibiotics if I picked up something while traveling. Anything that explains why my stomach has been turning itself inside out for more than a week and why I can barely make it through a morning without feeling like I need to lie down.

The nurse took blood, handed me a cup for a urine sample, checked my temperature, and disappeared nearly thirty minutes ago.

When the door finally opens, my doctor steps inside holding a tablet. Her expression is calm. That makes me nervous immediately.

“Well?” I ask.

“Please tell me you found whatever tropical disease I managed to bring back from Italy.”

She gives me a small smile as she sits on the stool across from me.

“You don’t have a stomach flu, Sophie.”

“Okay.”

I wait.

She glances at the results on her screen before looking back at me.

“You’re pregnant.”

The water bottle slips out of my hand. It hits the floor, rolls beneath the chair, and stops against the wall. I stare at her. For several seconds, I cannot make my mouth work.

“No.”

My doctor’s expression softens.

“The urine test was positive, and we confirmed it with your bloodwork.”

“No.” I shake my head.

“That can’t be right.”

“Sophie—”

“I’m on the pill.”

My voice cracks on the last word.

She looks down at my chart.

“You are, but I’m seeing here that you switched prescriptions a little over a month ago.”

“Yes, because the other one was giving me headaches.”

“Do you remember whether there was any gap between the old pack and the new one?”