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One Too Many Red Flags Novel Cover

One Too Many Red Flags

Phoebe Harris stands at a harrowing crossroads in the modern novel One Too Many Red Flags. Despite the doctor’s warnings about the risks of a late-term abortion at six months, Phoebe remains steadfast in her decision to end the pregnancy. Though she feels a profound physical bond with her developing child, the internal trauma she has endured outweighs her maternal instincts. Driven by a sense of total emotional devastation, she chooses to sever her final tie to a painful past.
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Chapter 5

"Mom, stop joking around. Phoebe needs to focus on her pregnancy, she doesn't have time to take care of a cousin," Nathan said, noticing the change in Phoebe's expression. He was quick to refuse on her behalf.

But the next second, Phoebe smiled. "I don't mind. Let her move in."

And just like that, Clara moved in.

That evening, the housekeeper came in again with a tray. The same three things as always: soup, walnuts, and grapes.

Phoebe had had enough. With a swift motion, she knocked the tray to the floor. "How many times do I have to say it before you understand? I don't want to eat these!"

Nathan rushed over, his face tense as he pulled her into his arms. "Phoebe, are you okay? Did the soup burn you?"

She shook her head, saying nothing.

Seeing that she was unharmed, he exhaled in relief. His gaze turned cold as he glared at the housekeeper. "If she doesn't want to eat it, don't force her! How useless can you be? You can't even take care of a pregnant woman properly!"

"Phoebe, are you having trouble with your appetite? Why don't I make you some soup?" Clara sauntered over, her voice sweet and artificial. "Tomato and beef brisket, nourishing and good for the baby."

Phoebe didn't bother to glance at her. With her eyes lowered, she said quietly, "I'm tired. I'll go rest. You all go ahead and eat."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away.

She fell into a heavy sleep, but the sharp ring of a phone shattered the silence, dragging her awake. Frowning, she reached for the phone. She was sure she hadn't set an alarm.

As confusion set in, a message flashed across the screen. It was from Clara, as sharp and mocking as ever.

[Hey, fatty, dare to come to Nathan's study?]

Phoebe stared at the message for a long time before finally pushing herself out of bed and heading to the study.

The door was slightly ajar. As she approached, the sound of Clara's soft, teasing laughter drifted out.

"Master, stop working, pay some attention to me."

"Cut it out," Nathan's voice was low and harsh. "This is my home, not somewhere else. What if Phoebe sees us?"

"She's already asleep. She won't know," Clara said as she caught his hand, guiding it down her body. "Master, I miss you so much. I can't wait any longer..."

His breath grew heavier. With a swift motion, he pushed her onto the desk and reached for her nightgown. But then, he hesitated.

"Wait," he said, his tone shifting. "This nightgown... it looks familiar. Isn't this Phoebe's?"

Clara smiled seductively, pressing his fingers to her lips. "That's right. It's hers. But she can't fit into it anymore."

A low chuckle escaped him as his hand tightened around her slender waist.

At that moment, Phoebe remembered. Before her pregnancy, Nathan had always loved her slim figure. Whenever things got heated, his hands would cling to her waist as if he couldn't let go.

But now, with her body changed, heavy with their child, he was gripping someone else's waist instead.

He said he cared about her. Yet here he was, just as easily, wanting another woman.

"Ah... Master, I love you so much. Do you love me?" Clara moaned softly, the words exaggerated and sweet. Through the narrow gap in the door, she must have spotted Phoebe outside. Her arms curled around Nathan's neck as she pushed further. "Do you love me more, or do you love Phoebe more?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to," he said coldly. "Of course, I love Phoebe the most. She's my wife, my one true love."

Hearing that, Clara's eyes burned with resentment. She cast a venomous glance toward the door, unwilling to concede defeat.

"But tell me this, Master," she whispered. "Do you enjoy doing me more, or Phoebe?"

Nathan laughed softly, his movements growing rougher. "Obviously, it's you. A body like yours is made for carnal pleasure."

A triumphant smile spread across Clara's face as her voice rose in satisfaction. Meanwhile, outside the door, tears blurred Phoebe's vision.

'Why am I crying?' she wondered bitterly. 'You let Clara move in, didn't you? Wasn't it because you wanted to see whether Nathan still had any feelings left for you? Wasn't it because you wanted to know if he would dare to touch his mistress under your roof? Well, now you have your answer. Congratulations, Phoebe. You finally know the truth.'

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