Outside the surgical ward in the hospital''s dim hallway, hurried footsteps echoed, low and urgent.
A tall, strikingly handsome man appeared, anxiety etched across his face as he rushed in.
"Isadora!" Victor shouted, his voice sharp and desperate.
His gaze caught on the digital disy above the operating room door, the red letters reading, "Surgery Concluding." For a moment, his eyes went nk, longshes fluttering rigidly as if he couldn''t quite ept what he was seeing. Confusion and disbelief flickered in his expression, quickly swept away by a storm of emotion.
Just then, the double doors to the operating suite slid open. Several doctors in white coats stepped out, fatigue and caution etched on their faces.
Victor''s brow furrowed deeply. Without thinking, he seized one of the doctors by the cor, his tone cold and fierce. "How is the woman inside?" he demanded.
The doctor, startled and bewildered, thought he was dealing with some kind of madman. "Sir, let go of me! You need to calm down!"
Victor''s eyes were icy, his voice a single, frigidmand. "Talk."
Dangling a few inches off the floor, the doctor broke into a cold sweat, stammering, "Okay, okay-I''ll tell you! The patient just finished surgery. She''s still under anesthesia and needs some time to recover. She''ll be wheeled outter."
At this, Victor''s hand dropped slowly to his side. His dark eyes were dull, lifeless, as if the very soul had been drained from his body. He looked utterly lost.
The doctor, finally released, nearly stumbled to the ground. Clutching his chest and gasping for air, he muttered under his breath, "He looks like a model, but he''spletely unhinged."
He hurried to his feet and tugged at his colleagues, eager to get away before the man could snap again.
Victor stood frozen, his posture defeated, eyes clouded with grief. His voice, barely more than a whisper, trembled with pain. "Which of you...did the surgery?"
An older, more experienced doctor, used to scenes like this, stepped forward with a weary sigh. "Sir, I''m sorry for your loss. As doctors, we did try to talk her out of it. But she was adamant about ending the pregnancy. In the end, we had to respect her wishes."
Victor''s lips twisted into a bitter, self-mocking smile.
Isadora, you hate being connected to me this much?
You''d go this far, just to cut everyst tie.
With a violent crash, Victor mmed his fist against the operating room door. Blood immediately welled up from his knuckles.
Everyone nearby recoiled in shock, cowed by the cold, dangerous aura radiating from him. No one dared approach.
Across the hall, the door to another operating room opened.
Isadora stepped out, taking in the tense cluster of people nearby.
Her eyes quickly found him-Victor, impossible to ignore, dressed in ck from head to toe, tall and lean, but radiating a fury that seemed to suck the warmth from the corridor.
She blinked, her feet momentarily rooted to the spot.
Victor must have sensed her gaze. He stiffened, turning slowly until his pitch-dark eyes locked onto her. He stared, unmoving, like a silent storm brewing on a winter''s night.
Isadora felt the intensity of his gaze burn through her, making her uneasy. Instinctively, she turned to leave.
But in the next instant, Victor''s long strides closed the distance between them. He pulled her into his arms, gripping her so tightly she could hardly breathe, as if he feared she might vanish if he let go.
His arms trembled with the force of his need.
Isadora was enveloped in his familiar scent, pressed against the solid wall of his chest. Breathless, she pushed at him weakly. "Victor, what are you doing? Let go of me."
After a moment, Victor''s grip loosened, but his gaze only grew darker, the pressure in his stare almost suffocating.
His eyes drifted from her delicate features down to her abdomen, and his jaw clenched once more.
Isadora could feel the tension in his body, muscles strung tight as a bowstring.