THE DEVIL'S MISTRESS
PART 14
The sterile air of the hospital room tasted like despair. Sebastian Scar floated in a grey limbo, tethered to life by whirring machines and dripping IVs. Visions flickered – Jessica’s tear-streaked face, Amanda’s venomous smile, the bitter taste of coffee, the terrifying convulsions, the suffocating white foam. Pain was a distant throb beneath layers of sedation. Time lost meaning.
Then, slowly, agonizingly, consciousness seeped back. It wasn't a sudden awakening, but a cruel, dragging emergence from the depths. His eyelids felt like lead weights. Light stabbed his pupils, blurred shapes resolving slowly. The rhythmic beep… beep… beep of the heart monitor was the first anchor to reality. Then came the ache – deep, pervasive, bone-deep exhaustion layered over a raw, burning sensation in his gut. He tried to move, to speak, but his body felt alien, unresponsive.
"Sebastian? Darling? Can you hear me?"
The voice, dripping with saccharine concern, cut through the fog. Amanda. He forced his eyes to focus. She sat perched elegantly on a chair beside his bed, dressed in somber, expensive silk, her blonde curls artfully arranged. Her hand rested lightly on his forearm, her touch feeling like ice despite the room's warmth. Her dark eyes, usually sharp with malice, were wide with a carefully constructed simulation of worry.
"Doctor! He's waking!" she called out, her voice trembling with theatrical relief.
A flurry of activity followed. Doctors checked vitals, adjusted IVs, shone lights in his eyes. Sebastian endured it, his gaze fixed on Amanda, a silent question burning in his exhausted eyes. What happened? Where is Jessica?
Amanda waited until the doctors finished their brief assessment, assuring them she’d stay with him. As the door clicked shut, her expression shifted. The worry remained, but beneath it, a cold, calculating gleam surfaced.
"Oh, Sebastian," she breathed, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We were so scared. You’ve been fighting for a week."
A week? Panic flared weakly. "Jess…" he managed, the word a raw croak.
Amanda’s face contorted instantly into a mask of profound sorrow and righteous anger. Tears welled in her eyes – real or expertly faked, he couldn’t tell. "Sebastian… my love…" she choked out. "It’s… it’s Jessica."
His heart monitor spiked. Beep… beep… beep… beep…
"She… she poisoned you," Amanda whispered, her voice thick with tears she let spill down her cheeks. "The coffee. She made it. She gave it to you. They found traces… aconite… a terrible poison. She was the only one who touched it. The only one with access." Amanda squeezed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "She must have planned it… planned to kill you, take everything… or maybe she was working with your enemies? We don’t know."
Sebastian tried to shake his head, denial roaring silently inside his shattered body. No. Impossible. Not Jessica. But the memory was fractured, terrifying. The coffee. Her handing him the cup. The immediate, violent reaction. The white foam.
"And then…" Amanda’s voice hardened, the tears replaced by cold fury. "When they realized you were poisoned, when they confronted her, she panicked. She tried to run. Ghost… he helped her escape! He betrayed you too! They fled together into the night." She spat the words. "She left you here dying, Sebastian. She poisoned you and ran away with one of your own men!"
The accusation crashed over him like a tidal wave. Betrayal. Poison. Escape. Each word was a shard of ice driven into his heart. The image of Jessica, the woman he loved, the woman he’d built a fragile future with, deliberately poisoning him… It clashed violently with the memory of her tender touch, her whispered love. But the evidence Amanda presented – the coffee, the poison, the flight – seemed damning. And the blinding rage that surged through his weakened body felt real, fueled by the violation, the near-death experience, the utter shock.
A guttural sound escaped his throat, part pain, part fury. His hands clenched weakly on the sheets.
Amanda saw it – the dawning horror, the spark of rage. She pressed her advantage, her voice dropping to a venomous hiss. "She played you, Sebastian. Used you. That gutter rat was always a gold-digging whore. She saw her chance and tried to take everything, including your life."
The crude insults, echoing those she’d hurled before, struck a different chord now, amplified by the context of betrayal. The fragile trust, the sanctuary of their love, felt like a grotesque lie. The rage crystallized, cold and lethal. He remembered her fleeing the room when he’d aimed the gun at Amanda… Had that been guilt? Fear of being caught?
"Find… her," he rasped, the words scraping his ravaged throat. His eyes, though clouded with pain and medication, burned with a terrifying intensity. He locked eyes with William, who had entered silently during Amanda’s tirade, his face grim. "Find Jessica… and Ghost. Bring them… to me." He took a shuddering breath, summoning every ounce of his fading strength. "Alive. I will… kill her… myself."
The command hung in the sterile air, heavy with finality. William nodded curtly, his own expression hardened by Amanda’s narrative and his boss’s suffering. "Consider it done, Boss."
Amanda leaned back, a flicker of triumph quickly masked by concern. "We checked the penthouse security immediately, Sebastian," she added smoothly. "Trying to find proof. But… the CCTV footage from the kitchen and balcony during that time… it’s gone. Deleted. No traces left." She shook her head sadly. "She covered her tracks well. Ghost must have helped her erase it."
The missing footage felt like the final nail. Paranoia, a familiar old friend, crept in. *How could she? Why?* The questions screamed in his mind, drowned out by the roar of betrayal. "I gave her… everything," he whispered, the words laced with bewildered agony. "Everything…" The image of her family, safe in the mansion he’d given them, flashed in his mind. "The family…" he managed. "Leave them… in the house. Guarded. But… untouched." It was a concession to a past love, a lingering doubt he couldn’t fully quash, even amidst his fury. He ignored Amanda’s immediate, sharp protest.
"But Sebastian! They could be involved! They—"
"Leave them!" he growled, the effort sending a spasm of pain through him. His order stood. Jessica’s family remained under house arrest, but protected, a confusing testament to the war raging within him.
Miles away, in a small, sun-drenched village house nestled among palm trees and vibrant bougainvillea, Jessica existed in a state of suspended terror. Ghost’s fiancée, Chioma, a woman with kind eyes and hands hardened by work, had become her unexpected guardian angel. The modest house, a world away from Scar’s penthouse luxury, was a fragile sanctuary.
Days bled into each other, filled with gnawing fear for Sebastian, crushing guilt over her family’s imprisonment, and the paralyzing knowledge that she was hunted. She scanned local news on a burner phone Ghost provided, dreading the headline announcing Scar’s death. The silence was almost worse.
Then, the nausea started. Not the sharp anxiety she was used to, but a deep, rolling sickness that hit her most mornings. At first, she blamed the stress, the unfamiliar village food. But when it persisted, accompanied by a profound exhaustion and a strange tenderness in her breasts, a terrifying, wondrous possibility began to dawn.
One morning, after retching into a basin behind the small house, Chioma found her pale and trembling. The older woman took one look at her, her gaze softening with sudden understanding. Without a word, she disappeared into the village market and returned an hour later, pressing a small, unmarked paper packet into Jessica’s hand. Inside was a simple pregnancy test.
Hands shaking, Jessica locked herself in the tiny bathroom. The wait for the result felt like an eternity. She stared at the small plastic window, her heart hammering against her ribs, her mind a whirlwind of fear and impossible hope. Then, two clear, unmistakable lines appeared.
Pregnant.
The world tilted. She sank onto the cool concrete floor, the test clutched in her hand. Sebastian’s child. Conceived in the deep, healing love they’d shared after Amanda’s first assault, before the poison, before the betrayal. A life growing inside her while its father lay poisoned, believing she’d tried to kill him, vowing to end her life himself.
Terror threatened to engulf her. They were fugitives. Hunted. Scar wanted her dead. Amanda wanted her destroyed. How could she bring a child into this nightmare? How could she protect it?
But then, gazing at those two lines, a fierce, primal resolve ignited within her, burning away the despair. This wasn't just about her anymore. This was about their child. Scar’s heir. The living proof of their love, conceived before the poison, before the lies.
She placed a trembling hand on her still-flat stomach. The fear didn't vanish, but it was joined by a steely determination. She couldn't run forever. She couldn't let her child be born into a life of hiding, branded by its mother's supposed crime. She had to clear her name. Not just for herself, not just for Sebastian, but for this tiny, fragile life growing inside her.
She had to prove her innocence. Find the real traitor. Expose Amanda. And she had to reach Sebastian, make him see the truth, before his rage or Amanda’s schemes destroyed them all. For the sake of their child, she had to fight. Or they would all die – her, the baby, Sebastian, consumed by the poisonous lies.
Emerging from the bathroom, Jessica met Chioma’s knowing gaze. There were no words. Jessica simply nodded, her eyes no longer filled with just fear, but with the fierce, terrifying light of a mother’s resolve. The hunted woman was gone. In her place stood a lioness, ready to fight for her cub and its father, even if the father himself held the gun. The battle for truth, for love, and for the future of their child had truly begun.
TO BE CONTINUED...
PART 14
The sterile air of the hospital room tasted like despair. Sebastian Scar floated in a grey limbo, tethered to life by whirring machines and dripping IVs. Visions flickered – Jessica’s tear-streaked face, Amanda’s venomous smile, the bitter taste of coffee, the terrifying convulsions, the suffocating white foam. Pain was a distant throb beneath layers of sedation. Time lost meaning.
Then, slowly, agonizingly, consciousness seeped back. It wasn't a sudden awakening, but a cruel, dragging emergence from the depths. His eyelids felt like lead weights. Light stabbed his pupils, blurred shapes resolving slowly. The rhythmic beep… beep… beep of the heart monitor was the first anchor to reality. Then came the ache – deep, pervasive, bone-deep exhaustion layered over a raw, burning sensation in his gut. He tried to move, to speak, but his body felt alien, unresponsive.
"Sebastian? Darling? Can you hear me?"
The voice, dripping with saccharine concern, cut through the fog. Amanda. He forced his eyes to focus. She sat perched elegantly on a chair beside his bed, dressed in somber, expensive silk, her blonde curls artfully arranged. Her hand rested lightly on his forearm, her touch feeling like ice despite the room's warmth. Her dark eyes, usually sharp with malice, were wide with a carefully constructed simulation of worry.
"Doctor! He's waking!" she called out, her voice trembling with theatrical relief.
A flurry of activity followed. Doctors checked vitals, adjusted IVs, shone lights in his eyes. Sebastian endured it, his gaze fixed on Amanda, a silent question burning in his exhausted eyes. What happened? Where is Jessica?
Amanda waited until the doctors finished their brief assessment, assuring them she’d stay with him. As the door clicked shut, her expression shifted. The worry remained, but beneath it, a cold, calculating gleam surfaced.
"Oh, Sebastian," she breathed, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We were so scared. You’ve been fighting for a week."
A week? Panic flared weakly. "Jess…" he managed, the word a raw croak.
Amanda’s face contorted instantly into a mask of profound sorrow and righteous anger. Tears welled in her eyes – real or expertly faked, he couldn’t tell. "Sebastian… my love…" she choked out. "It’s… it’s Jessica."
His heart monitor spiked. Beep… beep… beep… beep…
"She… she poisoned you," Amanda whispered, her voice thick with tears she let spill down her cheeks. "The coffee. She made it. She gave it to you. They found traces… aconite… a terrible poison. She was the only one who touched it. The only one with access." Amanda squeezed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "She must have planned it… planned to kill you, take everything… or maybe she was working with your enemies? We don’t know."
Sebastian tried to shake his head, denial roaring silently inside his shattered body. No. Impossible. Not Jessica. But the memory was fractured, terrifying. The coffee. Her handing him the cup. The immediate, violent reaction. The white foam.
"And then…" Amanda’s voice hardened, the tears replaced by cold fury. "When they realized you were poisoned, when they confronted her, she panicked. She tried to run. Ghost… he helped her escape! He betrayed you too! They fled together into the night." She spat the words. "She left you here dying, Sebastian. She poisoned you and ran away with one of your own men!"
The accusation crashed over him like a tidal wave. Betrayal. Poison. Escape. Each word was a shard of ice driven into his heart. The image of Jessica, the woman he loved, the woman he’d built a fragile future with, deliberately poisoning him… It clashed violently with the memory of her tender touch, her whispered love. But the evidence Amanda presented – the coffee, the poison, the flight – seemed damning. And the blinding rage that surged through his weakened body felt real, fueled by the violation, the near-death experience, the utter shock.
A guttural sound escaped his throat, part pain, part fury. His hands clenched weakly on the sheets.
Amanda saw it – the dawning horror, the spark of rage. She pressed her advantage, her voice dropping to a venomous hiss. "She played you, Sebastian. Used you. That gutter rat was always a gold-digging whore. She saw her chance and tried to take everything, including your life."
The crude insults, echoing those she’d hurled before, struck a different chord now, amplified by the context of betrayal. The fragile trust, the sanctuary of their love, felt like a grotesque lie. The rage crystallized, cold and lethal. He remembered her fleeing the room when he’d aimed the gun at Amanda… Had that been guilt? Fear of being caught?
"Find… her," he rasped, the words scraping his ravaged throat. His eyes, though clouded with pain and medication, burned with a terrifying intensity. He locked eyes with William, who had entered silently during Amanda’s tirade, his face grim. "Find Jessica… and Ghost. Bring them… to me." He took a shuddering breath, summoning every ounce of his fading strength. "Alive. I will… kill her… myself."
The command hung in the sterile air, heavy with finality. William nodded curtly, his own expression hardened by Amanda’s narrative and his boss’s suffering. "Consider it done, Boss."
Amanda leaned back, a flicker of triumph quickly masked by concern. "We checked the penthouse security immediately, Sebastian," she added smoothly. "Trying to find proof. But… the CCTV footage from the kitchen and balcony during that time… it’s gone. Deleted. No traces left." She shook her head sadly. "She covered her tracks well. Ghost must have helped her erase it."
The missing footage felt like the final nail. Paranoia, a familiar old friend, crept in. *How could she? Why?* The questions screamed in his mind, drowned out by the roar of betrayal. "I gave her… everything," he whispered, the words laced with bewildered agony. "Everything…" The image of her family, safe in the mansion he’d given them, flashed in his mind. "The family…" he managed. "Leave them… in the house. Guarded. But… untouched." It was a concession to a past love, a lingering doubt he couldn’t fully quash, even amidst his fury. He ignored Amanda’s immediate, sharp protest.
"But Sebastian! They could be involved! They—"
"Leave them!" he growled, the effort sending a spasm of pain through him. His order stood. Jessica’s family remained under house arrest, but protected, a confusing testament to the war raging within him.
Miles away, in a small, sun-drenched village house nestled among palm trees and vibrant bougainvillea, Jessica existed in a state of suspended terror. Ghost’s fiancée, Chioma, a woman with kind eyes and hands hardened by work, had become her unexpected guardian angel. The modest house, a world away from Scar’s penthouse luxury, was a fragile sanctuary.
Days bled into each other, filled with gnawing fear for Sebastian, crushing guilt over her family’s imprisonment, and the paralyzing knowledge that she was hunted. She scanned local news on a burner phone Ghost provided, dreading the headline announcing Scar’s death. The silence was almost worse.
Then, the nausea started. Not the sharp anxiety she was used to, but a deep, rolling sickness that hit her most mornings. At first, she blamed the stress, the unfamiliar village food. But when it persisted, accompanied by a profound exhaustion and a strange tenderness in her breasts, a terrifying, wondrous possibility began to dawn.
One morning, after retching into a basin behind the small house, Chioma found her pale and trembling. The older woman took one look at her, her gaze softening with sudden understanding. Without a word, she disappeared into the village market and returned an hour later, pressing a small, unmarked paper packet into Jessica’s hand. Inside was a simple pregnancy test.
Hands shaking, Jessica locked herself in the tiny bathroom. The wait for the result felt like an eternity. She stared at the small plastic window, her heart hammering against her ribs, her mind a whirlwind of fear and impossible hope. Then, two clear, unmistakable lines appeared.
Pregnant.
The world tilted. She sank onto the cool concrete floor, the test clutched in her hand. Sebastian’s child. Conceived in the deep, healing love they’d shared after Amanda’s first assault, before the poison, before the betrayal. A life growing inside her while its father lay poisoned, believing she’d tried to kill him, vowing to end her life himself.
Terror threatened to engulf her. They were fugitives. Hunted. Scar wanted her dead. Amanda wanted her destroyed. How could she bring a child into this nightmare? How could she protect it?
But then, gazing at those two lines, a fierce, primal resolve ignited within her, burning away the despair. This wasn't just about her anymore. This was about their child. Scar’s heir. The living proof of their love, conceived before the poison, before the lies.
She placed a trembling hand on her still-flat stomach. The fear didn't vanish, but it was joined by a steely determination. She couldn't run forever. She couldn't let her child be born into a life of hiding, branded by its mother's supposed crime. She had to clear her name. Not just for herself, not just for Sebastian, but for this tiny, fragile life growing inside her.
She had to prove her innocence. Find the real traitor. Expose Amanda. And she had to reach Sebastian, make him see the truth, before his rage or Amanda’s schemes destroyed them all. For the sake of their child, she had to fight. Or they would all die – her, the baby, Sebastian, consumed by the poisonous lies.
Emerging from the bathroom, Jessica met Chioma’s knowing gaze. There were no words. Jessica simply nodded, her eyes no longer filled with just fear, but with the fierce, terrifying light of a mother’s resolve. The hunted woman was gone. In her place stood a lioness, ready to fight for her cub and its father, even if the father himself held the gun. The battle for truth, for love, and for the future of their child had truly begun.
TO BE CONTINUED...
THE DEVIL'S MISTRESS
PART 14
The sterile air of the hospital room tasted like despair. Sebastian Scar floated in a grey limbo, tethered to life by whirring machines and dripping IVs. Visions flickered – Jessica’s tear-streaked face, Amanda’s venomous smile, the bitter taste of coffee, the terrifying convulsions, the suffocating white foam. Pain was a distant throb beneath layers of sedation. Time lost meaning.
Then, slowly, agonizingly, consciousness seeped back. It wasn't a sudden awakening, but a cruel, dragging emergence from the depths. His eyelids felt like lead weights. Light stabbed his pupils, blurred shapes resolving slowly. The rhythmic beep… beep… beep of the heart monitor was the first anchor to reality. Then came the ache – deep, pervasive, bone-deep exhaustion layered over a raw, burning sensation in his gut. He tried to move, to speak, but his body felt alien, unresponsive.
"Sebastian? Darling? Can you hear me?"
The voice, dripping with saccharine concern, cut through the fog. Amanda. He forced his eyes to focus. She sat perched elegantly on a chair beside his bed, dressed in somber, expensive silk, her blonde curls artfully arranged. Her hand rested lightly on his forearm, her touch feeling like ice despite the room's warmth. Her dark eyes, usually sharp with malice, were wide with a carefully constructed simulation of worry.
"Doctor! He's waking!" she called out, her voice trembling with theatrical relief.
A flurry of activity followed. Doctors checked vitals, adjusted IVs, shone lights in his eyes. Sebastian endured it, his gaze fixed on Amanda, a silent question burning in his exhausted eyes. What happened? Where is Jessica?
Amanda waited until the doctors finished their brief assessment, assuring them she’d stay with him. As the door clicked shut, her expression shifted. The worry remained, but beneath it, a cold, calculating gleam surfaced.
"Oh, Sebastian," she breathed, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We were so scared. You’ve been fighting for a week."
A week? Panic flared weakly. "Jess…" he managed, the word a raw croak.
Amanda’s face contorted instantly into a mask of profound sorrow and righteous anger. Tears welled in her eyes – real or expertly faked, he couldn’t tell. "Sebastian… my love…" she choked out. "It’s… it’s Jessica."
His heart monitor spiked. Beep… beep… beep… beep…
"She… she poisoned you," Amanda whispered, her voice thick with tears she let spill down her cheeks. "The coffee. She made it. She gave it to you. They found traces… aconite… a terrible poison. She was the only one who touched it. The only one with access." Amanda squeezed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "She must have planned it… planned to kill you, take everything… or maybe she was working with your enemies? We don’t know."
Sebastian tried to shake his head, denial roaring silently inside his shattered body. No. Impossible. Not Jessica. But the memory was fractured, terrifying. The coffee. Her handing him the cup. The immediate, violent reaction. The white foam.
"And then…" Amanda’s voice hardened, the tears replaced by cold fury. "When they realized you were poisoned, when they confronted her, she panicked. She tried to run. Ghost… he helped her escape! He betrayed you too! They fled together into the night." She spat the words. "She left you here dying, Sebastian. She poisoned you and ran away with one of your own men!"
The accusation crashed over him like a tidal wave. Betrayal. Poison. Escape. Each word was a shard of ice driven into his heart. The image of Jessica, the woman he loved, the woman he’d built a fragile future with, deliberately poisoning him… It clashed violently with the memory of her tender touch, her whispered love. But the evidence Amanda presented – the coffee, the poison, the flight – seemed damning. And the blinding rage that surged through his weakened body felt real, fueled by the violation, the near-death experience, the utter shock.
A guttural sound escaped his throat, part pain, part fury. His hands clenched weakly on the sheets.
Amanda saw it – the dawning horror, the spark of rage. She pressed her advantage, her voice dropping to a venomous hiss. "She played you, Sebastian. Used you. That gutter rat was always a gold-digging whore. She saw her chance and tried to take everything, including your life."
The crude insults, echoing those she’d hurled before, struck a different chord now, amplified by the context of betrayal. The fragile trust, the sanctuary of their love, felt like a grotesque lie. The rage crystallized, cold and lethal. He remembered her fleeing the room when he’d aimed the gun at Amanda… Had that been guilt? Fear of being caught?
"Find… her," he rasped, the words scraping his ravaged throat. His eyes, though clouded with pain and medication, burned with a terrifying intensity. He locked eyes with William, who had entered silently during Amanda’s tirade, his face grim. "Find Jessica… and Ghost. Bring them… to me." He took a shuddering breath, summoning every ounce of his fading strength. "Alive. I will… kill her… myself."
The command hung in the sterile air, heavy with finality. William nodded curtly, his own expression hardened by Amanda’s narrative and his boss’s suffering. "Consider it done, Boss."
Amanda leaned back, a flicker of triumph quickly masked by concern. "We checked the penthouse security immediately, Sebastian," she added smoothly. "Trying to find proof. But… the CCTV footage from the kitchen and balcony during that time… it’s gone. Deleted. No traces left." She shook her head sadly. "She covered her tracks well. Ghost must have helped her erase it."
The missing footage felt like the final nail. Paranoia, a familiar old friend, crept in. *How could she? Why?* The questions screamed in his mind, drowned out by the roar of betrayal. "I gave her… everything," he whispered, the words laced with bewildered agony. "Everything…" The image of her family, safe in the mansion he’d given them, flashed in his mind. "The family…" he managed. "Leave them… in the house. Guarded. But… untouched." It was a concession to a past love, a lingering doubt he couldn’t fully quash, even amidst his fury. He ignored Amanda’s immediate, sharp protest.
"But Sebastian! They could be involved! They—"
"Leave them!" he growled, the effort sending a spasm of pain through him. His order stood. Jessica’s family remained under house arrest, but protected, a confusing testament to the war raging within him.
Miles away, in a small, sun-drenched village house nestled among palm trees and vibrant bougainvillea, Jessica existed in a state of suspended terror. Ghost’s fiancée, Chioma, a woman with kind eyes and hands hardened by work, had become her unexpected guardian angel. The modest house, a world away from Scar’s penthouse luxury, was a fragile sanctuary.
Days bled into each other, filled with gnawing fear for Sebastian, crushing guilt over her family’s imprisonment, and the paralyzing knowledge that she was hunted. She scanned local news on a burner phone Ghost provided, dreading the headline announcing Scar’s death. The silence was almost worse.
Then, the nausea started. Not the sharp anxiety she was used to, but a deep, rolling sickness that hit her most mornings. At first, she blamed the stress, the unfamiliar village food. But when it persisted, accompanied by a profound exhaustion and a strange tenderness in her breasts, a terrifying, wondrous possibility began to dawn.
One morning, after retching into a basin behind the small house, Chioma found her pale and trembling. The older woman took one look at her, her gaze softening with sudden understanding. Without a word, she disappeared into the village market and returned an hour later, pressing a small, unmarked paper packet into Jessica’s hand. Inside was a simple pregnancy test.
Hands shaking, Jessica locked herself in the tiny bathroom. The wait for the result felt like an eternity. She stared at the small plastic window, her heart hammering against her ribs, her mind a whirlwind of fear and impossible hope. Then, two clear, unmistakable lines appeared.
Pregnant.
The world tilted. She sank onto the cool concrete floor, the test clutched in her hand. Sebastian’s child. Conceived in the deep, healing love they’d shared after Amanda’s first assault, before the poison, before the betrayal. A life growing inside her while its father lay poisoned, believing she’d tried to kill him, vowing to end her life himself.
Terror threatened to engulf her. They were fugitives. Hunted. Scar wanted her dead. Amanda wanted her destroyed. How could she bring a child into this nightmare? How could she protect it?
But then, gazing at those two lines, a fierce, primal resolve ignited within her, burning away the despair. This wasn't just about her anymore. This was about their child. Scar’s heir. The living proof of their love, conceived before the poison, before the lies.
She placed a trembling hand on her still-flat stomach. The fear didn't vanish, but it was joined by a steely determination. She couldn't run forever. She couldn't let her child be born into a life of hiding, branded by its mother's supposed crime. She had to clear her name. Not just for herself, not just for Sebastian, but for this tiny, fragile life growing inside her.
She had to prove her innocence. Find the real traitor. Expose Amanda. And she had to reach Sebastian, make him see the truth, before his rage or Amanda’s schemes destroyed them all. For the sake of their child, she had to fight. Or they would all die – her, the baby, Sebastian, consumed by the poisonous lies.
Emerging from the bathroom, Jessica met Chioma’s knowing gaze. There were no words. Jessica simply nodded, her eyes no longer filled with just fear, but with the fierce, terrifying light of a mother’s resolve. The hunted woman was gone. In her place stood a lioness, ready to fight for her cub and its father, even if the father himself held the gun. The battle for truth, for love, and for the future of their child had truly begun.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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