My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 291

Chapter 291: 291/The Final Push

Chapter 291:

Julie’s POV

The violent, savage labor pains exploded within the depths of my entrails all at once, and without the slightest warning. I felt as though dozens of sharp, honed knives were being brutally plunged into the deepest point of my swollen belly, ripping my insides apart piece by piece. Steve’s features instantly contorted, overtaken by a genuine terror. He took a swift step back, clutching his head with both hands, his face turning deathly pale as he cried out in panic and dread: "My God, Julie! What should I do now?! Please tell me!"

I pressed down with both of my trembling palms with all my might against my massive belly, my entire body bending forward in a desperate attempt to alleviate the crushing weight, as I dragged my breath with extreme difficulty and tightness: "Give me... give me the black abaya right now... and grab the large bag I prepared beforehand. It’s sitting in the corner of the room inside!"

Steve lunged toward me, gripping my arm firmly and supporting me with extreme gentleness to redirect my heavy frame onto the sofa, his massive body visibly shaking: "Sit here and don’t move, I’ll fetch them for you lightning fast." He ran with a racing pulse toward the room, while I remained alone in the living room, digging my nails hard into the coarse fabric of the sofa. I was desperately trying to regulate my rapid, shattered breathing, whispering to myself in a muffled, weeping plea: Julie, hold it together... forget this fucking pain... don’t focus on the details of the agony. You’ve lived through worse. But the horrific cramp was so sharp and cruel that it surpassed my threshold of endurance, forcing me to shut my eyes violently, as hot, salty, unbidden tears leaked from between my eyelids to wash over my pale cheeks.

Steve rushed out of the room, and with clumsy, inexperienced fingers, he helped me into the long black abaya. Then, he secured the fabric niqab over my face with supreme care, covering my entire head. Nothing remained visible or exposed of me except my wide eyes, swimming with fear and anxiety. He braced me with all the muscular strength he possessed to lift my body, which had become incredibly heavy. Then, he turned with firmness and strict authority toward Olivia, who was standing in the corner of the hallway, watching the details of my labor in stunned silence.

He said in a commanding, powerful tone: "You have a car downstairs... move right now, and take us to the hospital!"

I flared up in a fierce, absolute refusal despite my body being drowned in agony, clawing my weak fingers tightly into his cotton shirt: "No, Steve! I will never go with her... I won’t get into her car!"

Steve pressed his warm palm against my shoulder, looking into my eyes with a pleading, tearful tone: "Julie, please, think of your health and the life of your child right now... we have no time for stubbornness!"

I swallowed my bitter lump and silenced myself against my will. My throat went completely dry and my limbs stiffened, accepting deep down that I was going with her forced and coerced under the weight of a pain that had become horrific and unbearable. We exited the building with stumbling, slow steps, and I climbed with great difficulty into the backseat of the car. Steve sat right beside me, supporting my aching back with his hands.

Meanwhile, Olivia leaped with a rapid motion into the driver’s seat, shoved the key into the ignition, and sped off, driving through the streets in a suspicious, terrifying silence. Never in my life did I expect her to accept helping me and taking me to the hospital without handing me over to Robert. During all of this, the storm inside my womb intensified, and the consecutive contractions were coming ruthlessly every two minutes. Steve held my cold, sweat-slicked hand, whispering in genuine panic, trying to reassure me: "Calm down, Julie... breathe slowly. Inhale, exhale."

I bit down hard on my lower lip beneath the fabric of the black niqab, saying in a fractured, weak voice: "I... I am calm... I am trying... Ahhh!" And I couldn’t suppress the booming scream that tore from my throat against my will from the latest wave of crushing pain.

We finally arrived at the threshold of the massive hospital, the car coming to a violent halt that made the tires screech. Steve threw the door open and rushed out, then lifted me into his broad arms and seated me on a steel wheelchair that an intake worker had brought over. He ran with me rapidly through the long corridors toward the interior, while Olivia remained stationary in her car, never following us inside. Doctors and nurses rushed over, surrounding the wheelchair with urgency and concern. With a breathless, frantic voice, Steve gave them my fake surname for protection my mother’s maiden name so that no one could track us down.

They wheeled me with lightning speed into the examination and delivery room, the agony multiplying in my lower belly and back in a terrifying, breathtaking manner. The doctor lifted my gown and carefully examined the position of the fetus from below, but she quickly retracted her hand, letting out a helpless sigh as she said: "The cervix is still largely closed; it has only dilated by two fingers. We cannot perform a physiological delivery right now, we have to wait a little."

I gripped the edge of the cold iron bed with both hands, my body writhing left and right: "Doctor, please do something... I am dying from the pain!"

The doctor replied, patting my leg in a clinical, calm manner: "Unfortunately, we cannot alleviate this pain right now with any painkillers. This pain specifically is the force that opens the cervix and pushes your child out... you must have patience and endure."

I asked her, panting heavily as thick sweat drenched my forehead beneath the fabric of the thick hijab: "How... how long do we have to wait?"

She answered dryly: "We will wait a few hours and monitor the situation. If the cervix doesn’t open naturally, we will have to perform an immediate surgical C-section."

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