Chapter 75

Six months later

Jack locks the bar door and slips the keys into the pocket of his jeans. His expression is serious, his forehead creased with nervousness. Trying to calm him, I wrap my arms around his body.

"Hey, it’s okay!"

"Liana is having the baby. I just wanted to know how he is. Damn it, this is driving me crazy."

Jack grabs a strand of my blonde hair and brings it to his nose, inhaling deeply.

"You calm me down. Looking into your eyes is the only thing that soothes me," he confesses, his gaze locked onto mine.

"She will show up. She’s probably just adjusting or living with Harry in another city."

"I think she was afraid someone would expose her dirty secrets from the past and cause trouble. What she did was a crime, but after so many years, it’s hard to bring it to light—especially since your biological father, unfortunately, passed away. And of course, she helped Harry try to take you from me again. I don’t want my son growing up with that woman."

"Yes, but Jack..."

I bring my lips to his, pressing a kiss against them.

"She will show up, I’m sure of it. Bad people have children too, but what happened in the past haunted her for many years. Soon, we’ll find out where she’s hiding, and you’ll be able to go to court for custody of the baby."

***

POV Liana

I place my hand on my belly and close my eyes, feeling the powerful contraction shake my body. I had forgotten how terrible the pain is, worse than broken bones. After Clayre’s visit, I decided to disappear and live far away, with no obligations to anything or anyone, since she took my place. The goal, however, remains the same: to raise the baby and teach him to be my living revenge. At least I spread around town what she did to her own mother because, in everyone’s eyes, she is my daughter.

I had a few check-ups, but I neglected them in the last two months. Unlike my previous pregnancy, I wasn’t consumed by depression, even after being alone for months. The headaches became frequent, and the swelling in my body was noticeable. I didn’t tell Harry where I would be; he had nothing left to offer and would only leech off whatever I manage to gain from now on. The pain gradually intensifies as I step into the Los Angeles hospital. My hands are sweaty, a slight dizziness takes over me, along with a heat that wasn’t there before. This is the first time I truly want to have a child, and maybe it’s because of my thirst for revenge, but I will take care of this baby.

Disappearing cost me the café, my main source of income. At least I have a good amount of money, enough to pay for the birth and live comfortably. I’ve been working at a new café downtown, saving every paycheck to stay secure. Every night, I curse Clayre for coming back into my life and taking everything from me. I may be far away, but I keep track of everything that happens.

I provide my information at the reception, and minutes later, I am taken to an inpatient room. The contractions become intense, and I grip the sheets, unable to think straight. A nurse approaches and sets up an IV line, and I know the time has come. However, my head pounds violently, I feel palpitations, my body is overtaken by chills, my legs ache, and my strength starts to fade.

"Listen, I don’t feel well."

The woman touches my face, noticing I am cold and sweating.

"Get the blood pressure monitor," she orders her assistant, who quickly brings it over. She turns her attention back to me. "Besides the contraction pains, do you feel anything else?"

"My vision is blurry, I feel dizzy, my head and the back of my neck hurt."

She checks my blood pressure and tilts her head, signaling for a doctor.

"Is my blood pressure high?"

"Yes, we need to perform a C-section immediately."

"I refuse to lose my child. Do your job properly, understand? Call a competent doctor."

She ignores me as they bring a stretcher to take me to the operating room.

The pain radiates to my shoulders and arms. Nausea sets in, my legs give out, and the sharp contractions make me moan loudly in desperation. Everything becomes hazy, my vision blurs, and I see figures moving around me. Within minutes, I am lying down, no longer in pain, but with a heavy, suffocating sensation stealing my breath. I stare at the ceiling, my stomach burning with acid, suffocating gradually. Nervously, I shake my head as the doctor speeds up the procedure.

"Scalpel."

A different pain grows in my chest, blending with distress.

"Doctor, her blood pressure is rising."

Dizziness overwhelms me, the room starts spinning, my body turns ice-cold, my eyes burn, and I breathe faster, gasping for air.

"No, I don’t want to die. I won’t accept this! God has no right!"

I try to clench my fists, fighting the tremors coursing through my body.

My lips and teeth are tightly shut, and I feel involuntary contractions beginning. The sounds grow distant, and I catch fragments of speech, losing my ability to think clearly—"she’s in eclampsia," "hurry," "she’s going to seize."

"God, you need to save me. There’s no way you’ll be the bastard who takes me now that I finally have the child I actually want to care for. I won’t accept dying. No, no!"

My head pounds as if it will explode, and my body stiffens. The lights slowly fade, the sounds vanish, and the darkness consumes me.