<b>Chapter </b><b>215 </b>


    -CELINE’S POV-


    The first thing I felt when I woke was pain.


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    Not sharp–no, it was heavier than that. A slow, dragging ache that sat deep inside me, like my body had <b>been </b>hollowed out and filled with lead.


    I floated in it, pinned down, trapped.


    The ceiling above me was white, too white. The kind of sterile brightness that made my eyes sting. Machines hummed around me, a steady rhythm, as if the world still had the nerve to keep moving when mine had stopped.


    My limbs didn’t obey me. They felt drugged, sluggish, like I was trapped under water. A tube pressed against the back of my hand, taped in ce.


    For a moment, my brain refused to catch up. I was just a woman in a hospital bed. Just tired.


    Then memory crashed through me. My hand went instinctively to my stomach.


    t.


    Empty.


    My fingers dug harder, searching, praying, begging for a shape, for life. Nothing. My throat squeezed tight. Air jammed in my chest.


    ‘No. No, no, no.


    My baby. My little girl. Gone.


    The sound that ripped out of me wasn’t a scream. It wasn’t even a real cry. It was small, broken, pathetic–like my


    voice had splintered the same way my body had. Tears slipped sideways, wetting the stiff pillow under my head.


    The memories came jagged, like bits of ss: the fall, the shocking jolt of pain, the sound of my body hitting the floor, the metallic taste of blood coating my tongue.


    And Mia’s face.


    Ana smirk. Her presence.


    I clenched my fists, nails digging into the nket. Rage surged hot through the grief, but it didn’tst. It copsed in on itself, folding back into pain. She had taken everything from me.


    A sob wracked my chest. I bit down on it, but it still broke through, raw and humiliating.


    The door opened softly. A voice I knew floated in, trembling.


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    “Celine dear….Mrs. Reid? You’re awake.”


    I turned my head slowly. Sally. Her eyes were swollen, rimmed red, her hands clutching a paper bag like <b>it </b><b>was </b>a lifeline. She <b>set </b>it aside and rushed over, fussing, pulling tissues out like she could wipe away more <b>than </b><b>just </b>


    <b>tears</b><b>. </b>


    “Don’t cry,” she whispered, though she was barely holding herself together. “You need to rest. You lost <b>so </b>much blood.”


    I swallowed, my voice scraping out of me. “My baby.”


    Her hands froze. Her lips pressed tight, trembling. She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Her silence was confirmation enough.


    I closed my eyes. Another wave of sobs wed out of me, sharper this time. When the storm of it eased, I forced one more question.


    My voice was weak, shredded. “Where’s Hunter?”


    Sally’s pause was heavy. “He….he was here. All night. But he left.””


    The words hit harder than they should have. My brows drew together. “Left? Where?”


    She shook her head. “I don’t know. He didn’t say.”


    I turned my face away, jaw trembling. He’d been here…..he’d seen me broken, bleeding, clinging to life…and still he left.


    The anger came slowly, burning from the inside out. “He should have kept her away.”


    “Madam?” Sally leaned closer. <fn6898> Discover more novels at f?ndnovel</fn6898>


    I swallowed, voice tight and bitter. “Mia. If he had kept her away…if he had listened…our baby would still be here.”


    Sally touched my shoulder carefully, almost afraid. “This wasn’t your fault.”


    But the words bounced off me. Empty. How could I believe her, when the truth pressed down on me like a stone?


    Silence filled the room, broken only by the steady beeping of the monitor counting out my failure. Each beat another usation: you couldn’t protect her, you couldn’t save her.


    Sally busied herself quietly, unpacking the bag, folding clothes, trying to fill the air with something other than grief. I stared at the ceiling, numb.


    But


    my mind refused to stay still. It circled Hunter, like a vulture. Where was he? What was he doing? Did he feel this hole in his chest the way I did, or was his anger louder than his grief?


    I pictured him in his office, pouring ss after ss, shutting himself down with whiskey.


    Or worse–out there, chasing Mia.


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    A chill ran down my spine. Not fear for her–I couldn’t care less what happened to her–but fear for him<b>. </b><b>Fear </b>of what revenge would carve out of him.


    Hunter already carried shadows in his veins, and every time he let them out, they grew darker.


    And yet…another part of me wanted him to. Wanted him to make her bleed, to make her scream, to take <b>from </b>her the way she took from me.


    I hated myself for wanting it. I hated him for making me need it.


    Tears came again, quieter this time, leaking steady down my cheeks as I turned into the pillow. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore.


    The ache in my body wasn’t just physical. It was emptiness. My baby was gone, but her absence was alive inside me. A ghost in my womb. A silence in my chest.


    I’d known loss before. Abandonment. Loneliness. Being unwanted. But this? This was different. This was my child. My hope. My future.


    Gone.


    The door creaked open again. Not Hunter. Just a nurse, checking charts, adjusting tubes. She said something soft, professional, meaningless.


    I didn’t hear it. My ears were still echoing with the sound of a heartbeat I’d never hear agai


    When she left, I let my eyes close.


    I wished…..selfishly, pathetically…. that Hunter would return, that he’d sit by me, hold me, tell me it wasn’t my fault. I wished for things I knew couldn’te true.


    Wishing didn’t bring babies back.


    Hours bled into each other. Sally eventually dozed in the chair, her head tilted, her breathing soft. Machines hummed on.


    I stayed awake, staring at nothing. My mind wandered to Jesse, to my mother, to the family that had never wanted me. To Hunter’s vows of protection. Promises that felt like lies now.


    And most of all, to that tiny heartbeat–once alive, now silenced forever.


    My chest tightened again, but the tears this time were soundless. Just wet trails on my face, proof of how empty I’d be.


    The door opened onest time. Slowly, quietly, like a secret.


    A shadow stretched across the room. Hunter. He remained in the doorway, unmoving. Watching me. His tie hung loose, his suit wrinkled, his expression unreadable in the dim light.


    <b>9:08 </b><b>Sun</b><b>, </b><b>Sep </b><b>14 </b>


    :


    I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.


    Because for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted him near me at all.


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