When I arrived at the maternity ward, I saw from a distance that the light in the VIP suite was on. That suite—equipped with the most advanced monitoring equipment and a temperature-controlled sterile system—was reserved exclusively for special patients at this private hospital. My father had personally instructed the director to make sure I stayed in the safest environment possible.
But just as I reached the door, a woman in a Chanel suit blocked my way. She was wearing ten-centimeter heels despite her slightly rounded belly—and she was none other than my fiancé Daniel Reed’s secretary, Sophie Lane.
“I’m taking this room. You can switch to a standard one,” Sophie drawled, leaning against the doorframe. Her manicured red nails lazily traced over the room plaque. “A pregnant nobody like you is just wasting space in a place like this.”
Supporting my lower back, I spoke through the waves of pain gripping my abdomen. “This room was booked in advance by my family. The reservation slip is at the nurses’ station.”
“So what if it’s booked?” she suddenly raised her voice, drawing stares from other expectant mothers in the hallway. “The Reed Corporation is about to close a deal with the Whitmore family. From now on, in Bayshore City, Daniel’s name is as good as a pass to anything. Forget just one room—if I want the whole maternity ward switched, it’ll be done.”
With that, she deliberately bumped into me. I stumbled, catching myself against the wall as a sharp, stabbing pain shot through my stomach.
“What are you doing?!” I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.
“What am I doing? Helping you realize your place,” Sophie sneered. “Daniel says a penny-pinching woman who can’t even afford a nurse for her prenatal checkups doesn’t deserve VIP treatment. Unlike me—carrying the Reed family’s first grandson—living here is only natural.”
I steadied myself and dialed Daniel’s number. His impatient voice came through the receiver: “I’m in the middle of an important meeting. What is it?”
“Sophie took my VIP suite. Can you—”
“It’s not a big deal,” he cut me off. “You can give birth in a standard room. Stop being so dramatic. Sophie’s from the Whitmore family, she’s of high status. Why can’t you let her have it?”
“But my dad arranged this room for me—”