Larissa looked torn. She took the whip, her hands shaking and handed it to the bodyguard.
After that, Larissa then dropped to her knees.
“Please, Ajax. Richard is sick. You can’t hurt him. Just hit me instead.”
Seeing her like that, I felt bored out of nowhere.
“Hit you, huh? Fine. I’ll end the life of that baby you’re carrying while I’m at it.”
I stood up, took the whip and struck out.
“No!” Richard shouted as he broke free and threw himself in front of Larissa.
At the last moment, Larissa did the unexpected. She grabbed the thorn-covered whip with her bare hand. Her palm was pierced at once. A sharp force hit me, throwing me back into the table and smashing the vase we had made together. Pain shot through my body.
When I blinked, Larissa was already supporting the half-unconscious Richard to his feet. He was covered in blood that came from her.
“Larissa, don’t go!” I cried.
However, she just paused with one hand on her belly while she clenched her teeth as she said, “Ajax, I’ve had four abortions for you. And now Richard was hurt today because of you.”
Her voice trembled when she continued, “If anything happens to Richard and my baby today, we won’t have kids!”
“How could you not understand this pain?” she asked.
How could I not understand? For four years, we had tried everything to make Larissa pregnant. From injections, medicines, to even prayers. I had thought the problem was me.
I fell to the floor and clutched the hem of her skirt.
“Larissa, don’t go. I- I’m in so much pain…”
“Stop pretending, Ajax. You weren’t hurt just now.”
Her face was strange, almost cold. She stepped forward and pulled my hand away. I bit back a scream.
“Larissa, if you take him away today, we’ll get divorced!” I heard myself say.
We had argued before. Sometimes, it would be serious and sometimes not. When I said that, Larissa would usually stay. But she helped Richard down the stairs without a second thought this time.
The bodyguards around me panicked, looking at the blood on the floor and afraid to touch me.
I spat out a mouthful of blood and, with my last strength, whispered, “Take me to the hospital.”
When I woke, my nose smelled of disinfectant. The doctor stood over me, his face full of regret.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Russell. Your injuries are serious. The chance of full recovery is small.”
His words hit me like a cold wave. For a long moment, I could not react. Then, I nodded slowly.
“Where’s Larissa?”