Breaking Mr. Cold (Giselle and Donovan) novel Chapter 808

Donovan picked up his phone and examined the photo again. His head felt heavy, a dull throb pulsing behind his temples. He rubbed his brow, remembering how that international massacre had caused a massive stir. The Valantian and Malithornian police had investigated it for years; every known accomplice had been arrested.

If Chris had truly been an associate of that drug lord—if he had actually taken part in that massacre—he should have been brought to justice long ago. There was no way he could be moving around freely as a lawful citizen.

Subconsciously, Donovan was looking for excuses. In the past, anyone he didn't trust was immediately discarded. But when he thought of Chris' performance—the tacit, almost soul-deep understanding they shared in so many situations—he simply couldn't bring himself to let go.

He had long grown accustomed to having Chris at his side, a second pair of hands and a second brain ready to shoulder any burden. He didn't want to negate everything over a seed of suspicion. As long as Chris was willing to lower his head and offer a convincing explanation, that would be enough.

The next afternoon, Giselle was taking her usual stroll along the villa's garden paths, her belly heavy. The housekeepers followed at a respectful distance, ready to assist her.

After wandering for over half an hour, just as she was about to head back, she noticed Chris standing on the tree-lined path, his face dark as he stared at her. Knowing he wouldn't appear without reason, she dismissed the housekeepers and walked toward him.

"What are you doing here again?" she asked.

Seeing they were alone, Chris' expression darkened further. He advanced step by step until he was looming over her. "You told him the truth, didn't you?"

Giselle froze. "What do you mean?"

"You betrayed our agreement. You told him everything about my past." Chris' voice was low and ragged, his words forced through gritted teeth. "You promised me. Why did you betray me?"

"I didn't." Seeing his agitation, Giselle felt a flash of exasperation. She turned away, too exhausted to deal with him. "I'm about to give birth. I don't have the energy for your drama. Just leave as soon as possible—"

"Let me go!" In her terror, Giselle struggled against him. Whether it was the emotional shock or the physical strain of the struggle, a sharp, white-hot pain suddenly exploded in her abdomen.

"Ah—" She clutched her stomach, her breath hitching as her face contorted. "It hurts... It hurts so much... Let go of me..."

Only then did Chris seem to realize her condition. He quickly moved to support her, his anger replaced by panic. "What's wrong? Do I need to take you to the hospital?"

"I—"

Giselle could barely breathe. Her belly twisted with wave after wave of agonizing pain. Then, she felt a sudden, warm wetness flow between her legs. Her hand went down to touch it, trembling.