Chapter 28

The first thing I heard was the steady beep. It was faint at first, like it was coming from the end of a tunnel, but the longer I lay there, the sharper it became. Beep. Pause. Beep.

I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids felt weighted, as if sand had been poured over them. A warm light filtered through, reddish at first, then pale and sterile. My throat was raw, dry, like I’d swallowed dust, and every breath seemed to scrape against it. The smell hit me next: antiseptic and something faintly metallic. My stomach twisted before I even remembered why. When I finally managed to force my eyes open, the world came in blurs and soft shapes. A white ceiling.

Harsh fluorescent lights that made me squint. A thin tube ran beneath my nose, prickling with each inhale. My body felt… wrong.  My left arm was tethered by wires and tape, and when I shifted slightly, a sharp, hot pain stabbed through my abdomen. I froze, breath hitching. Then it all came rushing back: heat, the knife, blood, and my baby.

My heart thundered. My hand flew to my stomach, trembling, but the movement was weak, sluggish. Beneath the hospital gown, I felt the ridge of tight bandages wrapping me like a cage. I couldn’t tell if the life inside me was still there. The panic that rose in my chest made the monitor speed up, its frantic beeps matching my fear. “Easy, easy; hey, don’t

move too much.”

The voice was warm, grounding. My gaze slid to the side and found Dan sitting in a chair at my bedside, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were rimmed red, his shirt wrinkled, and his hair falling over his forehead. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “You’re safe,” he said softly, but his voice cracked on the last word. I tried to speak, but only a hoarse croak came out. “The… baby…”

Dan’s expression flickered, but he was quick to school it into something calmer. “They’re monitoring both of you. Just… breathe for me, okay?” He reached over, his warm hand curling gently around my cold fingers.

The contact steadied me, but it didn’t stop the tears from slipping down the sides of my face, disappearing into the pillow. The ceiling blurred again, my chest tight, but Dan stayed there; his thumb tracing light circles over my knuckles. In the background, I heard muffled footsteps, a nurse’s voice, and the faint hiss of oxygen. But all I could really feel was the ache in my stomach, the weight of the bandages, and the desperate hope that the tiny life inside me was still holding on.

The second time I woke, it was quieter.

No frantic beeping. No rush of nurses. Just the low hum of the air conditioner and the faint shuffle of someone’s breathing close by.

My lashes fluttered open, and for a moment, the world swam. Shapes bled into light until the blur settled into a face. Tyson’s face. He was sitting in the same chair Dan had been in before, his long frame hunched forward, elbows on his knees, one hand covering his mouth like he was holding in words. His other hand gripped the armrest so tightly his knuckles were pale.

The look in his eyes made my stomach knot, not the pity I’d braced for, but something sharper. “You shouldn’t be awake yet,” he murmured, but the way he said it felt less like concern for my recovery and more like he wished I hadn’t overheard something. My throat was dry, but I forced the words out. “What… is it?” He hesitated. That was my first answer. Tyson never hesitated unless he was trying to keep the truth from spilling out too fast. He leaned in, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Dan knows.”

The two words hit harder than the pain in my side. My pulse roared in my ears. “Knows… what?” My voice cracked halfway through the question, but deep down, I already knew. Tyson’s jaw tightened. His gaze flicked briefly toward my stomach, bandaged, guarded, too still. Then back to my face. “That the baby… might not be his.” For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. It felt like the room was getting smaller, the walls coming nearer, the air thicker. I gripped the thin sheet tightly, my nails piercing it. “How?” I rasped.

He shook his head. “I don’t know exactly, but I think Victoria, his mother, knows because she's the one who was talking about your pregnancy. Why didn't you tell me that I might be the father?”

My chest burned with something between fear and shame. Every thought tangled together, Dan’s anger, the possibility of him walking away, the risk to the tiny life inside me. The beeping beside my bed sped up, betraying me.

Tyson reached out like he wanted to take my hand, then stopped halfway, curling his fingers into his palm. “You need to rest. If you get worked up, it’ll only make things worse for both of you.”

I shut my eyes, yet tears still escaped. My eyes opened; Tyson remained, observing me with a softer, yet still troubled expression. “Just… be ready,” he said quietly. “If he asks, you need to know what you’re going to say.” I swallowed hard, wishing I could sink into the blankets and disappear. There is a part of me that is strongly wishing that this conversation had not occurred. Wishing the truth wasn’t sitting between us like a blade. "No, scratch that. You need to run as far as you can with that baby." He said, holding my hands as if pleading with me to do the right thing. "Where the fuck will I go, Tyson?" I said, tears rolling down my face, frustration making it hard to think.

"I don't know Emerald, but I do know one thing: he will kill you and take that baby." I sat up, a thousand ideas going through my mind, but none of them seemed like they would work. "What if he won't want to kill me?" The quiver in my voice probably gave Tyson the idea that even I am not so positive about Dan not wanting revenge. "Emerald, do not take the risk; this man is ruthless." I looked at him, feeling confused and torn apart. What if he's just trying to get me away from Dan and closer to him? Dan was here earlier. I didn't sense any hostility. I've never trusted Tyson. Why would I choose to believe what he says now?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Tyson asked, with a hint of disappointment in his voice, retreating slightly, he shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at me. "You've lied to me ever since the day I first met you. Why should I believe you now?" He sighed, scratching his dark hair in frustration. He took a few steps to the door but stopped, turned back to look at me. "It's up to you what you do with your own life, but you should take my advice. If that baby is mine, I will also be hunting you down."