Silence No More

01. A Labour-Intensive Evening

"Faster! Faster!"

The icy voice of billionaire business mogul Rikkard Ambrose echoed off the corridor's walls, sending his employees running in a flurry of activity. By itself not an unusual occurrence at Empire House, the aptly named headquarters of his international industrial empire. What was an unusual thing, however, was my limp figure being rolled through the hallways on a gurney, pregnant belly bulging.

"I said faster, you fools! If we don't reach the doctor in time, I will ensure you won't find a job anywhere north of Antarctica!"

"Trying to organise a foot race in the office, husband dear?" I wheezed as my body twitched from the latest contraction. "How unprofessional."

"Shut up and contract!"

Ah, yes. That was my darling husband as I knew and loved him.

"Would you like me to sign a contract, too?" I squeezed out, one corner of my mouth twitching up. I had a feeling I was going to do that a lot in the near future. Squeezing, I meant, not smirking. "So you can sue me if I don't do this job right?"

I felt a hand squeeze mine, and the gurney sped up. Somewhere above me, I saw a flash of ice-cold eyes. "If you do not do this job correctly, Mrs Ambrose, you will have worse things to worry about than being sued!"

"Oh woe is me," I managed to get out as a powerful tremor shook me and an ache appeared in my lower back. "Will you try and sack me again? Or worse, jump into the sack with me? I'm t-trembling in f-fear. I—aaagh!"

"Mrs Ambrose?" The grip on my hand abruptly tightened. "Mrs Ambrose! Is everything all right?"

"D-don't worry." Shifting into a slightly less uncomfortable position on the gurney, something suddenly occurred to me. I glanced down. "Say...why exactly do you have a gurney in your office building? For staff who collapse from overwork?"

At that, he seemed almost insulted. "Don't be ridiculous, Mrs Ambrose! They can crawl out by themselves."

"Ha! Haha—aaah! D-don't make me laugh, you icy bastard! It hurts!"

His fierce gaze bored into me from above. "Do I look like I am in the mood for telling jokes, Mrs Ambrose? Now cease prevaricating! Answer me! Are. You. All. Right?"

I opened my mouth to say...what? I wasn't exactly sure. Oh, sure I'm all right! After all, I'm only about to squeeze a melon through a pea-sized hole. In my body. Thanks to you getting me pregnant, Mister!

That probably wasn't what he was hoping to hear, though. Not that it really mattered, because before I could get a single word out, the walls of the corridor to my left and right vanished, and I was suddenly surrounded by an entire hall full of people. Frozen people, staring at me.

The staff hurrying through the huge entrance hall of Empire House were probably used to seeing all sorts of things. But judging by their incredulous expressions as they stood there staring at me, pregnant women on gurneys were not among them. Mr Pearson, the receptionist, sat at his desk like a particularly pasty pillar of salt, not noticing the ink that was dropping from his quill and leaving a nice polka dot pattern on his important documents. Somewhere farther in the back, a person who had been sorting money into neat piles was now absent-mindedly sorting gold sovereigns into a paper bin. A bit to his left, someone was frozen in mid-motion with a stamp in his hand, not noticing the fly that was currently trying to crawl up his nose. Throughout the hall, people with piles of documents, briefcases and crates of shapes and sizes stood unmoving, staring straight at us.

Something that Mr Rikkard Ambrose apparently did not appreciate in the current situation.

"What are you waiting for?" he barked, gesturing to his pregnant wife beside him. "Get moving!"