The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 245

Chapter 124-1

Claim

The penthouse bedroom is dark, the heavy blackout curtains drawn tight against the afternoon sun. The only light comes from the soft, warm amber glow of the small lamp on the nightstand, casting long, lazy shadows across the ceiling.

Yet again, my world has shrunk down to the sharp, chemical taste coating my mouth, the sickening spin of the room every time I open my eyes, and the sheer, relentless force of my stomach trying to turn itself inside out.

I’m curled on my side on the bed, my knees pulled up toward my chest, my body trembling so hard my teeth are practically chattering. A cold sweat coats my skin, sticking my shirt to my back, but under my skin, I feel like I’m burning alive.

“Hey, baby,” Locke’s low voice is right behind me. “I’ve got you.” A

Before the next violent surge can hit, his hands are already there. He shifts me effortlessly, wrapping one thick arm around my waist to support my frame while his other hand gently holds the plastic basin under my chin, holding my damp hair back out of my face with practiced care.

I double over, a harsh, painful retch tearing from my throat as my stomach heaves.

I gasp for air, tears spilling over my lashes and running hot down my flushed cheeks, dripping off my jaw.

“That’s it, let it out,” Locke murmurs softly. “Come on, now.”

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t draw back, doesn’t show even a flicker of hesitation or disgust. He just holds the bucket steady, his broad chest pressed flush against my back, letting me lean every ounce of my weak, shaking weight against his solid frame.

When the spasm finally passes, I sink back into him with a breathy, broken moan. My body feels entirely weightless, like a bundle of hollow dry sticks that could snap under the slightest pressure.

Locke sets the basin on the floor, reaching for the damp, cool washcloth resting on the nightstand. With agonizing gentleness, he wipes the sweat from my forehead, running the cloth over my temples, my hot cheeks, and around my mouth. His touch is so light, so reverent, it almost makes me cry harder.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I’m so… I hate this, Locke. I hate being like this.”

“Zara, do we have to go through this every single time you have chemo?” he says gently. “Rule number one: you don’t apologize for being sick. Rule number two: you’re beautiful. Even right now. End of discussion.”

“I look terrible,” I choke out. “I’m so weak…”

“Incorrect, Zara,” Locke says firmly. “You’re the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever known in my entire life. You just went into a hospital, let them pump literal poison into your veins to save your own life, and you wa Iked out on your own two feet. You’re a warrior, baby.”

He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my sweaty forehead, then to my eyelids.

“You’re amazing,” he says against my skin, his gaze searching mine in the dim light. “And you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Keep arguing with me and I’ll just keep repeating it, and I bet your energy gives out before mine does.”

12

Chapter

Clam

A shaky, fragile breath escapes my chest. I lean back more, resting my cheek against his collarbone, Tetting the heavy, steady thud of his heart against my back soothe the frantic spike of my pulse.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“I love you too,” he says.

On the nightstand, Locke’s phone gives a quiet, double-buzz vibration. He reaches over without breaking his hold on me, glancing at the screen.

“That’s the security feed,” Locke says. “Jade just pressed the elevator button in the garage. I need to go buzz her up.”

“Okay,” I murmur, my eyelids heavy.

He carefully eases me back onto the pile of soft pillows, pulling the heavy duvet up over my shoulders. He lingers for a second, brushing a damp strand of hair off my forehead, before standing up from the bed and heading out into the hallway, leaving the bedroom door resting slightly ajar.

I lie there in the quiet, listening to the muffled sound of his heavy footsteps echoing down the hardwood hall, followed by the soft chime of the elevator door opening.

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