Chapter 35 Chapter 35. Zoria’s Loss
A shadow flashed through her mind. Zoria stared hopelessly at the lights on the ceiling. In her eyes, the last traces of light quietly faded. No one was coming to save her… because she had long since lost her parents, lost her home…
Zoria slowly closed her eyes. The hands held tightly by the nurses went slack. Her fists unclenched, fingers falling limp. Her palms were smeared with blood, torn open by her own nails.
Zephyr… if I could do it all over again, I would never fall in love with you.
…
At the same moment, Zephyr suddenly opened his eyes. His chest tightened as an inexplicable panic surged up. In that instant, he felt as if he had lost something incredibly important.
He sat outside the operating room, his gaze dark, brows drawn tight in irritation.
The operating room doors opened. Zoria was wheeled out, eyes closed, her face covered in a deathly pallor. Her lashes drooped, still damp, and her temples were soaked, whether with tears or sweat no one could tell.
"The baby… it was aborted, right?"
The doctor froze while removing his mask. He had not expected that to be the first thing Zephyr asked. Even as an outsider, a chill ran down his spine.
"It was aborted."
Zephyr showed little expression and continued coldly, "Will she be able to get pregnant again in the future?"
"She already had a hidden uterus, which was weak to begin with. This miscarriage caused severe damage… I’m afraid she won’t be able to in the future."
At that moment, Zephyr’s expression finally shifted slightly, though no one could tell whether he felt joy or sorrow.
His heart felt as if it were being strangled by a rope, aching until he could hardly breathe. Even he could not tell why it hurt so much.
"You’re certain? Absolutely certain she won’t be able to get pregnant again?"
The doctor hesitated, not answering right away.
"I understand." Before the doctor could speak, Zephyr had already read the hesitation on his face.
Whether Zoria could become pregnant again… that would be decided by him. He would force her to endure day and night, until her womb carried his kind.
Zephyr stood above, looking down at Zoria lying on the bed, her breathing faint and uneven. She closed her eyes. A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye and quickly vanished into her temple.
Zoria seemed trapped in a horrifying nightmare. Her delicate brows were tightly drawn together, and broken sobs escaped painfully from her throat.
"Zoria." Zephyr called her name once.
Zoria’s body trembled slightly. The blanket covering her slid aside, revealing her slender, pale neck. Zephyr reached out and pulled the blanket back up, his gaze sweeping over the blue and white striped hospital gown clinging to her frail body before stopping firmly at her abdomen.
He lifted his hand and touched the belly that had once curved gently and was now completely flat. Zephyr’s pupils darkened, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.
Just the thought of Zoria’s infidelity was enough to make him want to kill her. Of course, before killing her, he would first crush the male who had dared betray him with her.
In Zephyr’s mind, the first name that surfaced was Evander. After all, the intimate video and the tube of lubricant Zoria had brought back both pointed to Evander as the most likely suspect.
Pain jolted Zoria awake. The moment she opened her eyes, she saw Zephyr standing right in front of her. Instinctively, she tried to retreat, but before her elbow could brace against the bed, a tearing pain ripped through her abdomen. Zoria froze and clutched her stomach, the place where there was no longer the slightest curve.
Zephyr stood before her and let out a soft laugh, full of mockery. "Are you looking for your bastard cub?"
His voice was like a dull knife plunging into Zoria’s chest. The pain made her whole body shake. She shrank back, lifting her head to stare at him with wide eyes, her voice hoarse and trembling. "Where is my baby… where is my baby?"
The hospital room was terrifyingly silent.
After a long while, Zephyr finally spoke. "You want to see it that badly?"
The ambiguity of his words snapped Zoria into sudden clarity. She crawled forward on the bed and grabbed Zephyr’s hand, sobbing as she begged. "Zephyr… tell me. Where is my baby?"
That clinging motion irritated Zephyr, and at the same time, the urge for revenge in his heart grew sharper and clearer.
He bent down and gripped Zoria’s chin, sneering at her pale face. "Relax. I’ll let you see it."
With that, Zephyr seized her thin shoulders and dragged her off the bed. Zoria was already exhausted. With one hard pull, she staggered and collapsed onto the floor, hitting it with a heavy thud.
Zephyr glanced at her, then twisted her arm and hauled her up. He dragged her along the corridor, pulling her straight into another room.
The room was thick with the smell of disinfectant. After breathing it in for too long, Zoria felt dizzy. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed tight, so painful she could barely breathe.
"Where is my baby?"
Zephyr clamped his hand around her jaw. "Zoria, beg me. Kneel down and beg me. I’ll let you see it right away."
Zoria’s lips turned white and trembled. She clenched her teeth and dropped to her knees in front of Zephyr, her face ashen, her voice shaking apart. "I beg you… Zephyr, I beg you… let me see my baby…"
Zoria knelt flat on the floor, abandoning all dignity, taking the lowest, most humiliating posture at Zephyr’s feet. Her hair was a mess, and her once clear eyes were now bloodshot. She looked utterly wretched.
After all, Zoria was the mayor’s daughter. She had always carried stubbornness and pride within her. Zephyr had seen her cry and had seen her beg, but he had never seen her kneel. This was the first time he had seen her cast aside all restraint and arrogance to kneel and plead before him. Yet instead of feeling satisfied, his irritation only deepened.
Zoria was begging him for a "bastard cub".
Zephyr grabbed Zoria’s arm and dragged her over to a basin filled with diluted blood. Inside lay an unprocessed fetus, no bigger than a fist, soaking in pale red liquid, its tiny shape barely discernible.
"This is what I pulled out of your womb."