His Belated Love for the Abandoned Ex-Wife Chapter 268: Encounter at the Hospital

The hospital was quiet, not too busy. Julian had booked the VIP lane in advance, so they were able to move through without any wait.

He kept a close, careful watch over Iris, attentive to her every move, but held back from reaching out to touch her—afraid of making her pull away even more. He handled all the little details for her: filling out forms, carrying her bag, making sure she was comfortable.

"Iris?" A familiar voice came from behind them.

Iris stiffened. She turned and saw Arthur standing a short distance away, dressed in a white coat. His eyes flicked toward the sign for the OB-GYN department, and a thin, unpleasant smile touched his lips, though something strange glinted in his gaze.

"What a coincidence," Arthur said, stepping closer. His eyes moved between her and Julian, lingering. "Is everything okay, Iris? Not feeling well?"

Julian moved smoothly in front of her, his voice cold and sharp. "That's none of your concern."

Arthur's gaze dropped to Iris' slightly rounded abdomen. His smile turned bitter. "Should I offer congratulations, then? Soon-to-be parents?"

A cold shiver traced its way up Iris' spine.

There was something in Arthur's stare that reminded her of a snake tasting the air—cold, calculating, dangerous.

Julian's eyes darkened with anger. Without another word to Arthur, he placed a protective arm around Iris' shoulders and gently guided her away.

"Mr. Everhart," Arthur called after them, his tone deliberately provocative. "Lily's struggling with severe depression. Keeping another woman—and a child—hidden from her... she won't survive that kind of blow. I hope you plan to handle this carefully."

At that, Julian stopped dead in his tracks. Iris felt him go still beside her.

She stopped too, a cold dread rising from her feet all the way to her head. Her chest tightened painfully, and she realized she was trembling. She clenched her fists, biting down on her lower lip without thinking.

A wave of unfairness—raw and unfamiliar—washed over her all at once. She'd always lived by good principles, knew right from wrong, had a strong sense of decency. And now, here she was, being made to feel like the other woman. Was that all she was to Julian—someone he kept on the side?

The thought made her feel pathetic.

Julian drew a slow, deep breath. He handed Iris the checkup forms and her medical folder, then turned and walked back to Arthur.

In one swift move, he grabbed Arthur by the collar and yanked him forward.

Arthur was slender, almost frail. He stumbled, barely catching himself, and tried to keep his composure under Julian's icy, piercing stare. He swallowed. "We're in public. You're not actually going to hit me, are you?"

Julian's cold eyes narrowed. His voice dropped, each word like shards of ice. "Listen carefully. Iris is the only wife I've ever had. Paper or no paper, she's the only woman I recognize. Compared to Lily, my wife and my child are a thousand—ten thousand—times more important. And how Lily handles this isn't my problem."

Arthur's face darkened. He swallowed again, nervously this time.

Julian's gaze was venomous, filled with a quiet, murderous intensity. He lowered his voice so Iris couldn't hear, each word deliberate. "You set Iris up. You caused two years of misunderstanding between us. I haven't found the evidence to bury you yet, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten. While I'm too busy to deal with you, you should keep your head down and run as far as you can—not come here and provoke me. I could ruin you in a minute."

Arthur cleared his throat, trying to sound calm. "You have a family now. You wouldn't dare do anything... illegal. I'm clean. If you play by the rules, you'll never touch me."

Julian gave a cold, humorless laugh and shoved him back. He pulled a disinfectant wipe from his pocket, tore it open, and slowly wiped his palms. Then he said, voice dripping with contempt, "We'll see about that."

He tossed the wipe into a nearby trash can, turned, and walked back to Iris. Gently, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders again and led her away.

Out in the long, quiet hallway outside the examination rooms, Iris sank into a chair. Her hands were still trembling slightly.

Julian crouched down in front of her and took her cold fingers in his. "What's wrong?"

Arthur's sudden appearance hung over them like a shadow, threatening their already fragile peace.

"He's going to tell Lily," Iris said quietly, her hand resting on her growing bump. A deep unease settled in her chest. "Lily isn't even afraid of dying. What else could scare her? She's... unwell. What are you going to do?"

"I won't let anything happen to you or our baby," Julian said, looking straight into her eyes, his voice solemn and steady.

Iris pulled her hand back, frustration rising. "I don't need you watching over me every second. What I need is real stability—safety and freedom that lasts. And you can't give me that."

Julian's tone grew more urgent. "If you go abroad, can you honestly say you'll be completely safe and free?"

Iris' eyes stung. She clenched her still-trembling fists. "At least overseas, there won't be people like Lily—or Celeste, or Selena—with their twisted minds coming after me. No one like your father or your stepmother threatening me, looking down on me. No one like Caleb or Arthur bothering me."

Julian reached for her hand again, his touch gentle. He brought her pale, soft fingers to his lips and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles. His voice was low, rough with emotion. "In your heart, am I one of them? Is that why you won't let me come with you?"

His lips were warm, and the brief contact sent a faint jolt through Iris' chest. She quickly withdrew her hand and turned her eyes toward the number screen on the wall, silent.

When her number was finally called, Julian followed her into the examination room.

Iris lay back on the ultrasound table, trying to steady her breathing.

The doctor focused intently on the monitor, moving the probe with careful precision.

Julian never looked away from the grainy black-and-white image forming on the screen. His gaze, fixed on the tiny, flickering outline of their child, was softer than Iris had ever seen it.