There were only eight days left until his departure.
"There's a lot of work to hand over. I need a bit of time."
Channing Irving parted his lips, his voice slightly muffled. "I'm currently evaluating the staff to find someone suitable to take over my position."
"Make it quick."
Coralie Quill had her back to him, her tone freezing cold.
Yet, faintly, there seemed to be another layer of meaning hidden beneath her words.
"I will."
Channing didn't dare disobey. He still had eight days, anyway.
There were always more solutions than problems.
Leave?
He was never going to leave.
—
Returning home.
Coralie couldn't hold it in anymore. She dashed into the bathroom and threw up.
As the months went by, her morning sickness was becoming more pronounced.
"Can you just behave?" Coralie gently patted her belly, whispering her complaint. "What are we going to do if your dad finds out?"
He already didn't want to leave. If he knew about the baby, he would have the perfect excuse to stay and throw a fit.
"If you keep acting up, you're not getting any food tonight."
If she couldn't eat, the baby wouldn't get to eat either.
Perhaps genuinely "intimidated" by her threat, Coralie didn't experience any more nausea for the rest of the night.
After finishing dinner, she lay on the sofa and looked over at Channing. "I want a tangerine."
"A tangerine?"
Channing, who was washing the dishes, paused. "Tangerines are a bit sour. Didn't you usually avoid things like that?"
"That was before." Coralie swallowed hard, her tone taking on a coquettish edge. "Stop talking and hurry up."
"Alright."
He smiled, fetching a tangerine from the fridge.
He washed it, peeled it, and arranged the slices neatly on a plate.
He placed a small gold dessert fork beside it.
"I added some sweet strawberries just in case the tangerine is too tart for you."
Channing set the plate down, his voice incredibly gentle.
"I can't eat all this." Coralie glanced at the plate.


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