NovelEnglishThe doctor said with a nonchalant shrug, "There's no need for worry. We're all quite healthy here. This island is a sanctuary from
pollution, so serious sickness is practically unheard of."
Tanya choked on her coffee, her brows knitting in frustration, "Just you few, living cut off from the world every day, don't you find it
mind-numbing?"
"Not at all, and we're quite content. We all have a touch of social anxiety, not keen on mingling with outsiders. This isolation is
actually ideal for us," the doctor replied, his tone light.
Tanya couldn't quite place where these peculiar locals had cfrom, each one seemingly plucked from sobscure, primitive
tribe.
After dinner, the staff gathered in the courtyard for a chat, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Tanya, however, couldn't
understand a word.
"Where exactly are you all from? What language is that you're speaking?"
"We're refugees who survived a war, and we've lost our families to the chaos, leaving just us," The doctor explained with a casual
wave of his hand, "So we're without ties, free to live peacefully here."
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"You're from Africa? You don't look African," Tanya retorted with a sneer.
"Africa isn't just black people," the doctor replied with a noncommittal shrug.
Tanya was irked by his evasiveness, feeling like she was trying to pry open a locked door with her bare hands.
"And who arranged for you to chere?"
"We originally planned to stow away to the States," Dr. Hawthorne began, "but our ship struck an iceberg in the Atlantic. The boss
saved us, and after learning about our plight, he brought us to this island to live freely. He's a true philanthropist."
"The boss? Who is he?" Tanya pressed.
"The boss is just the boss," the doctor said, maintaining his enigmatic front.
Tanya could tell either he was being kept in the dark, or the good doctor simply wasn't willing to divulge any details.
"And how can someone from your tribe speak Veritalian?"
"In our tribe, few have the opportunity to get an education. | was one of the lucky ones. | attended a school founded by expats,
where | also studied medicine and the language," the doctor replied.
"Oh," Tanya responded dryly, her skepticism hanging thick in the air.
Over at Mossy Rock Retreat.
Lisbeth made her way to Raines' room.
"Raines, perhaps | could stay with you tonight?" she offered tentatively.
Raines regarded her with a detached gaze, "No need. I'm accustomed to sleeping alone."
Her eyes fell, and the long lashes cast a shadow of dejection on her pale skin.
"Raines, | have sgood news," she whispered.
"What is it?" he asked flatly.
She took his hand and placed it gently on her slightly rounded belly, "I'm pregnant. We're going to have a baby."
Raines' hand twitched as if stung, and he withdrew it quickly.
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"Are you sure it's mine?"
The question was a sledgehammer to Lisbeth's composure, leaving her reeling with shock and turmoil.
"Raines, what do you mean? Of course, it's yours. I'm your wife, and how could the baby be anyone else's?"
His gaze was distant and probing, "I don't remember anything between us. If you're pregnant, take care of yourself. After all,
paternity testing is a Stirling family protocol."
His words echoed a stark reminder in her heart.
Raines now saw her as a stranger, devoid of any affection, even doubting the child's paternity.
And if his memory returned, he would recall her deceit, that she'd been the cause of his downfall, and forgiveness would be even
more unattainable.
What could she possibly do?
"Raines, | love you. My feelings for you are genuine, please believe me."
There was no warmth in Raines' eyes, just a cold detachment, "It's late. You should return to your room and get srest. I'm
going to sleep too."
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