Chapter 13

Isabella looked up with a bright smile, but her hands at her sides were clenched so tight her knuckles turned white. Only she knew just how nervous she was at that moment. Would he be happy about the baby? Would this change how he felt? Desmond's expression shifted for a split second when he heard she was pregnant, surprise flickering through his eyes, but it vanished just as fast. His face turned ice cold. "Isabella, you know exactly who I'd pick." He didn't need to spell it out. That one sentence hit Isabella like a punch to the gut. She froze for a beat, then spun around and started to walk away in a hurry. But Desmond's men blocked her path. He stepped up, towering over her, eyes like a blade. He grabbed her chin roughly and forced her to look at him. "You're carrying my kid and didn't tell me? Huh, Isabella? You've got some nerve." His voice was cold enough to make her shiver. Instinctively, she shielded her stomach with both hands, her voice shaky and desperate. "Desmond, please, don't hurt the baby. I'll do the blood transfusion for Nora, okay? However much she needs, I'll give it." Desmond's lips pressed into a thin line as he shot a look to his men. The next thing she knew, they dragged her into a room. A needle jabbed into her arm, and her blood started flowing through the tube, bright red and terrifying. One bag. Two. Three… Isabella's vision blurred, her hands trembled, and everything around her felt like it was spinning by the time they finally stopped taking her blood. Then they moved her into a surgical room. "Francis, she's yours now," Desmond said coldly. Isabella saw him standing at the door, and the last bit of strength in her cracked. Her tears fell uncontrollably. "Desmond! Please, I'm begging you! I'll leave, I'll disappear from your life forever, okay? Just let me go!" With zero dignity left, she staggered toward him, pleading. But he just stood there, one hand in his pocket, completely unmoved, like he wasn't even part of any of this. It wasn't until someone went to restrain Isabella and pulled her onto the surgical table that he finally turned and walked away. "Desmond! That's your kid! Don't you even want to know what they'd look like?" Isabella cried out, her voice cracking under the weight of heartbreak, her chest aching so much it was hard to breathe.She kind of regretted using the baby to threaten Desmond just now. If only he hadn't known about it in the first place. Desmond suddenly stopped in his tracks. "Isabella, you're not worthy of carrying my child. I divorced you for a reason—I don't want you using a baby to tie me down again." Isabella struggled like crazy, but the anesthesia was already working its way through her system. Her thoughts blurred, fading. Through the haze, she saw him turn and walk away without looking back—cold as ever. Someone in scrubs moved toward her. Was it really going to end like this? A single tear slid down from the corner of her eye. ... The lights in the OR dimmed. Nora was pushed out on a gurney by a nurse. Their mother rushed over the second she saw her, eyes red as she held onto her hand. "My sweet girl, why did you do this to yourself..." Desmond stood nearby, watching Nora lying there so still. For some reason, that other woman's face suddenly popped into his mind. It must've been a hell of a day for her. And he'd chosen today, of all days, to get rid of that baby. His chest tightened—an ache he didn't expect. He forced himself to shut the thought down. What was that even? Regret? A smile with more bitterness than humor tugged at his lips. No way. That woman didn't just hurt her sister. Her parents had done things he would never forgive either. "Desmond, aren't you going to check on Nora?" Mr. Bennett called from the hallway, seeing him just standing there. Desmond gave a casual smile. "I'm waiting for an update on Isabella's surgery." "I see." Mr. Bennett nodded, clearly relieved. He thought, "That woman—carrying Desmond's child—was a threat to Nora's place in his life. Desmond's decision was absolutely the right one." A while later, the OR door opened. Francis stepped out first, followed by a nurse holding up a shaky Isabella. She looked even paler than when she went in, eyes blank and unfocused. Desmond, on instinct, reached out to hold her arm—like she might vanish any second. But she brushed past him, subtle but firm. She didn't say a word. The silence was loud—pure, cold hatred.