Shortly, gunshots echoed through the hall. His bodyguards stormed in right after, dragging out Mr. Bishop, bloody, broken, and barely breathing.
Grayson went berserk. He kicked the man again and again, wild with rage, his blows landing on Mr. Bishop’s lower body until the man no longer moved.
It wasn’t until Alyssa’s sobs broke through the chaos that he finally stopped. He picked her up, his eyes still burning, and brushed past me without a word.
But as they passed, Alyssa suddenly lifted her head from his chest, her expression twisting into a vicious smile.
“Amara, did you really think you mattered? Grayson’s always loved me! And I bet you don’t even know. After I beat that little bastard out of your womb, Grayson had your uterus transplanted into me.”
“Shut up!” Grayson’s face went pale as he turned to me, panic flashing in his eyes.
But Alyssa only sneered triumphantly. “You’re nothing now but a useless woman, an empty shell who’ll never bear a child again.”
The room went silent. So silent that it hurt.
I stood frozen, my mind blank, a sharp ringing filling my ears.
No wonder my body had felt strange after the surgery. So that was what it was. The man I loved for six years had taken away my ability to ever be a mother for the woman who had killed our child.
My heart twisted violently. Pain spread through my chest, so sharp it felt like my ribs might crack. I bent over, every breath cutting through me like knives.
Seeing me like that, Grayson’s eyes flickered with guilt. He took a step toward me, but before he could reach out, Alyssa whimpered and went limp in his arms.
“Grayson, my stomach… it hurts… the baby, is something wrong with the baby?”
At that, his hesitation vanished. All the remorse in his eyes disappeared in an instant as he turned and ran out with her in his arms.
I watched him leave without looking back, and the last bit of warmth in my heart went cold.
Leaning against the wall, I stared blankly at the floor for a long time before pulling out my phone.
“I’ve made my decision,” I said quietly when the line connected. “I’ll go through with the engagement with the Harlows in Milwaukee.”
That night, Grayson returned home. He knelt in the middle of the hall and, right in front of me, ordered his bodyguards to whip him ninety-nine lashes.
Blood pooled into the gaps of the tiles, and the metallic scent was thick enough to make me nauseous.