Her eyes turned cold as she looked at me. “So what if you’re pregnant? Zayn has only ever loved me. As for that filthy little thing in your belly—it has no right to live.”
A sense of dread ran through me. I tried to turn and run, but Natalie suddenly shoved me hard. I tumbled down the stairs.
A sharp pain tore through my abdomen and I felt something warm trickle down between my legs.
Just as she was about to mock me again, footsteps echoed from nearby. Natalie quickly slapped herself across the face.
Then she threw herself into Zayn’s arms, her voice trembling with feigned innocence. “Zayn, she said she doesn’t want to be my test subject anymore—and she even slapped me.”
“It’s not true! I never said that—she’s framing me!” I tried to defend myself, my voice weak and shaking.
“Enough,” Zayn snapped, not even bothering to hear me out.
His eyes were cold and sharp. “Natalie is kind by nature—she would never lie. Apologize to her. Otherwise, get out and kneel outside for three hours.”
Clutching my stomach, I begged weakly, “Zayn, I’m pregnant… Please, take me to the hospital. I think I’m losing the baby.”
His eyes flicked to the blood pooling beneath me and for a brief moment, the hardness in his face seemed to ease.
He started down the stairs to check on me, but Natalie quickly grabbed his arm. “Zayn, she’s not pregnant at all. That blood is just her period. She slapped me earlier and now she’s pretending to be hurt so you won’t blame her.”
She tightened her grip on him, tears glimmering in her eyes. “Zayn, if you don’t punish her, I’ll leave right now!”
Hearing that, all trace of emotion vanished from Zayn’s eyes. He ordered coldly, “Since you refuse to apologize, then get out and kneel. Reflect on your own behavior.”
Two bodyguards stepped forward and began dragging me away.
Seeing how tightly I clutched the box in my arms, Natalie suddenly said, “I want that box.”
It held my sister’s ashes and I refused without hesitation. “No! If you want an apology, fine—but this box contains my sister’s ashes. I can’t give it to you!”
A glint of cruelty flashed in Natalie’s eyes. She leaned toward Zayn, her voice soft and coy. “Zayn, I want that box.”
“And look at her,” Natalie continued sweetly, “She’s so desperate to keep that box, she’s even cursing her own sister. Besides, I got a call from the hospital not long ago—they said her sister was never sick to begin with.”