It wasn’t until much later that someone finally realized something was seriously wrong and called for medical help.
At the hospital, chaos erupted as doctors rushed me down a hallway toward the operating room.
“Where’s her family?!” one of them shouted. “Her vitals are crashing—do we prioritize the mother or the pup?!”
A nurse grabbed my phone with trembling hands. “Ma’am, do you have the father’s contact?”
My lips trembled as I gave her Ronan’s number.
He answered.
Not with concern.
Not with panic.
With rage.
“Aria, are you insane?!” he roared through the phone. “What did you do to Delilah? Her ankle is badly swollen—the doctor thinks it might be fractured! All because you shoved her!”
My entire body was shaking as I whispered, “I didn’t… She fell… on her own.”
“Oh, spare me that jealous nonsense!” he snapped. “You’re angry because she joked about being my wife? You actually took that seriously? It was obviously a joke!”
A joke?
My fingers dug into the sheets as tears finally broke free.
“Ronan… the baby—”
The line went dead.
I stared at the doctor, forcing a weak, broken smile through the pain.
“Please,” I whispered. “Forget the baby. Just… save me.”
“We’ll try,” the doctor said solemnly.
When I woke up, my body felt unbearably light.
Too light.
My stomach was flat.
A nurse approached quietly and handed me a small box. Inside lay what remained of my child—tiny, fragile, never given a chance to breathe under the moon.
I broke.
My sobs wracked my entire body, violent and uncontrollable. No physical wound hurt as much as this emptiness.
In the middle of my grief, the door burst open.
A man rushed in—tall, disheveled, his scent achingly familiar.
My brother.
Not by blood—but by choice, by loyalty, by every bond that truly mattered.
He crossed the room in seconds and pulled me into his arms, his voice rough with guilt. “I’m sorry… I should have come sooner.”
I pressed my face against his chest, unable to speak through the tears.
That same afternoon, he transferred me to a private hospital under his own name, shielding me from everything and everyone.
Before I left the city for good, I mailed that small box—the remains of the heir the Blackcliff family had wanted so desperately—to their estate.
Then I sent Ronan one final message.
We’re over.
I blocked his number. Deleted every trace of him. No hesitation.
From that moment on, Ronan Blackcliff ceased to exist in my world.
And he never would again.
