When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 65

Olivia

The next evening, I'd been scrolling through Instagram for the past hour, half-heartedly double-tapping on posts from fellow actors while sprawled across Julian's ridiculously comfortable couch. Amelia sat at the dining table, buried in patient files like the responsible doctor she is.

My stomach growled loudly enough for Amelia to hear. "I'm starving," I announced, tossing my phone aside. "Let's see what Julian's fridge has to offer."

Amelia didn't even look up. "There should be plenty. Liam restocked yesterday."

I padded into the kitchen and swung open the massive stainless steel refrigerator. The moment the door opened, a wave of fishy smell hit me like a truck. My stomach lurched violently, and I stumbled backward, hand clamped over my mouth.

"You okay in there?" Amelia called out.

I couldn't answer immediately, too busy fighting the urge to vomit. When she appeared in the doorway, I managed to point accusingly at the offending item.

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking concerned.

"That fish," I gasped. "The smell is making me sick."

Amelia peered inside, frowning. "It's vacuum-sealed. I can barely smell anything."

"Well, I can, and it's disgusting." I retreated to the living room and reclaimed my spot on the couch, trying to forget the nauseating fish smell.

I picked up my phone again, but my thumb froze mid-scroll. Something was nagging at the back of my mind. Wait... when was my last period? I started counting days on my mental calendar, and a cold wave of realization washed over me.

Shit. I'm late. Very late.

My mind raced through recent events - the nausea I'd been dismissing as hangovers, my suddenly hypersensitive sense of smell, the exhaustion I'd blamed on my shooting schedule. Pieces were falling into place, forming a picture I absolutely did not want to see.

"What is it?" Amelia asked, noticing my expression.

"Nothing," I replied too quickly, already reaching for my purse and a baseball cap. I needed to get out of here. Now. "I need to go out for a bit. I want to buy some special ingredients for dinner. We should celebrate your impending freedom from that marriage contract, right?"

"But Julian's fridge is fully stocked," Amelia pointed out."

"I need... specific ingredients," I insisted, already halfway to the door. "You know, the kind only certain stores carry."

I could feel her skeptical gaze on my back. "Olivia, is everything okay?"

I paused, forcing what I hoped was a convincing smile. "Of course! Why wouldn't it be? I'm just planning a special dinner." Then, because I can't help being dramatic even in crisis, I added, "My career is at its peak, and I'm certainly not pregnant with Noah Randall's baby. Can you imagine the tabloid headlines? 'Hollywood Rising Star Unexpectedly Pregnant, Father Is New York's Most Notorious Playboy.' My agent would have a fucking coronary."

I was babbling. I needed to leave before I completely lost it.

My disguise was complete: oversized sunglasses, a low-brimmed hat, and a scarf pulled up to my nose.

"Back soon!" I called out, practically slamming the door behind me.

---

I'd been to this upscale pharmacy dozens of times, but something was different today. The storefront appeared to have been renovated, and the sign had undergone a slight change. I squinted at it through my oversized sunglasses.

"WelLife?" I muttered to myself. "Wasn't it 'WellLife' before?"

Inside, a young pharmacist I didn't recognize greeted me. I kept my voice low, even though we were alone. "This place changed ownership? Last month when I came for my prescription, it didn't look like this."

The clerk recognized me instantly despite my disguise - occupational hazard of fame - and leaned closer. "The previous owner was arrested for selling unauthorized medications not approved by the FDA," she whispered, eyes wide with gossip.

My heart skipped a beat. "But the name looks the same?"

"The new owner was clever. Changed 'WellLife' to 'WelLife' - dropped one 'l'. Keeps the brand recognition but legally different."

I forced a casual laugh. "Smart business move." Then, attempting to distract her, I mentioned my latest film. The clerk gushed appropriately, but I was barely listening, my mind racing with implications.

"So, which medications were problematic?" I asked, trying to sound merely curious.

The clerk checked that we were alone. "Mostly the previous owner imported a batch of unauthorized birth control pills. The other medications were legitimate."

My knees nearly buckled. "Birth control pills?"

She nodded apologetically. "The new owner explained that other medications used incorrectly would show immediate reactions, but birth control pills at worst just... don't prevent anything."

I gripped the edge of the counter, suddenly feeling dizzy. "I need your most accurate pregnancy tests. Two boxes, different brands."

My panic demanded absolute certainty. I fled to another drugstore, a ridiculously expensive one in the main shopping district. I grabbed the priciest test on the shelf, needing its clinical, expensive packaging to promise a different truth somehow.

---

The VIP bathroom at the Waldorf Astoria became my testing ground.

I laid out three different pregnancy tests on the marble counter, hands shaking as I opened the packages. Following each set of instructions precisely, I waited the required three minutes.

One by one, all three tests showed positive results. Clear, undeniable positives.

"Fuck," I whispered, sliding down against the cold marble wall until I hit the floor. Tears spilled onto my designer dress, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

My carefully planned career. How would I explain a pregnancy bump on the red carpet? And Noah... would he think I'd done this deliberately?

I stared out the bathroom window at the New York skyline, wiping away tears that wouldn't stop coming.

"All because of fake fucking pills," I muttered, anger temporarily overriding despair.

---

Three hours after my dramatic exit, I returned to the apartment. Amelia looked up from her medical journals, concern written across her face.

"Did you find your special ingredients?" she asked carefully.

I shook my head, unable to maintain the charade. "No. The stores didn't have what I wanted."

"Where have you been all this time? I was getting worried."

I collapsed onto the couch beside her, all my acting skills failing me in this moment of truth. With a deep breath, I told her everything - the pharmacy's name change, the counterfeit medications, my panic-driven tour of Manhattan's pharmacies, and the three positive pregnancy tests.

I pulled the tests from my bag and laid them on the coffee table like evidence at a crime scene.

"All positive," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I'm pregnant with Noah Randall's baby."

“It’s my fault, Amelia,” I choked out, the tears finally coming. “The pills... they were fake. I took them, I was so careful, and they were fake.”

But Amelia comforted me, saying, "Hey, it's not your fault. Ashley and that bastard who sold the fake meds are the ones who really messed up."