Jackson's expression changed instantly. He wrenched Helena's hand away and rushed to Laica's side, lifting her into his arms as though she were made of glass.
"Don't be afraid," he said anxiously. "I'll take you to the hospital right now."
Helena's vision blurred. The pain in her abdomen rolled like black waves, swallowing her whole. Then everything went dark.
When the waiter came to clean later that night, he found her curled in a corner—unconscious, pale, barely breathing.
...
The acrid scent of disinfectant hit her nose.
Helena opened her eyes to a white ceiling.
She was still alive.
But the realization brought no comfort—only a suffocating heaviness pressing down on her chest. A tear slid silently across her cheek, sinking into the pillow and leaving a faint wet stain.
She remembered the days when Jackson would panic over the smallest paper cut on her finger, holding her hand and blowing gently on the wound.
Helena, he once said, even your frown hurts my heart.
Now, she could collapse in agony before him, and he would still turn away—for another woman's shallow scratch.
She was wrong...
So wrong.
She regretted ever loving Jackson Cabrera.
Her stomach still throbbed painfully. She pulled the IV needle from her arm and dragged herself out of bed, one hand pressed to the wall as she searched for a doctor to ask for painkillers.
Halfway down the corridor, a door stood ajar. A familiar voice drifted out.
"Mr. Cabrera, are you sure you want Miss McCarthy to use this special medication?" the doctor asked hesitantly.
"Three years ago, she had a miscarriage in the first month of her imprisonment. Her body's already damaged. This drug will help her stomach temporarily, but the side effects are severe. She might never be able to conceive again."
Boom!
The words detonated inside Helena's mind.
Miscarriage? Child?
Her body trembled violently. She lowered her head, both hands clutching her flat abdomen.
Was there really... a child here?
A child that belonged to her and Jackson?
Fragments of memory flashed before her eyes. During her first month in prison, she'd been wracked with unbearable pain in her lower abdomen, pain so sharp it nearly made her faint. Blood had poured from her body for days, but the prison guards only cast a few indifferent glances.
She had thought it was just her period, worsened by hunger and cold.
But now she understood.
It hadn't been her body failing her.