The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 325

Chapter 159-1

The world stops dead.

The quiet, rhythmic ticking of the wall clock vanishes into a ringing vacuum. The air inside the room turns dangerously thick, so dense and heavy I can barely drag a tiny fraction of it into my lungs.

Pregnant.

The word hangs in the sterile space between us, floating like a surreal, impossible ghost. My mind stammers, skidding violently into a brick wall of pure, unadulterated shock.

I sit completely frozen on the examination table, my fingers locked so tightly in Locke’s that my knuckles turn paper-white. My mouth parts slightly as I stare at Dr. Mercer, who’s just sitting there, looking at me as if she’s just casually delivered news in an ancient, long-forgotten tongue.

“I… what?” The word comes out as a tiny, breathless squeak.

“You’re pregnant, Zara,” Dr. Mercer repeats gently, her voice full of profound, steady warmth. “About a month and a half along. The preliminary blood hormone panel confirms it beyond a shadow of a doubt. The beta-hCG levels are sitting right where they should be for a healthy, six-week gestation.”

“No,” I say, my head shaking automatically, a wild, disorienting panic beginning to rise like a dark, icy tide in my chest. “No, Doctor Mercer, that’s… that’s biologically impossible. I just finished my aggressive chemotherapy protocols a few weeks ago, and I was told that the extreme toxicity of those heavy chemo drugs meant I was virtually infertile.”

Beside me, Locke hasn’t moved a single inch. He hasn’t breathed. His eyes wide, fixed on Dr. Mercer with an expression of such sheer, overwhelming disbelief that he looks entirely unrecognizable.

“Chemotherapy can severely diminish fertility, yes,” Dr. Mercer explains calmly, leaning forward and placing her hands flat on her desk. “And for the vast majority of women who go through the intense, aggressive regimen you endured so recently, natural conception right after treatment is exceptionally rare.”

I blink. “Okay.”

“But ‘rare’ is not ‘impossible, Zara. Human biology is not a rigid math equation. Sometimes, cellular tissue recovers in ways we cannot predict or explain. You are, quite frankly, a medical miracle.”

“But I’m on birth control!” I blurt out, my voice rising an octave as the sheer absurdity of the situation crashes over me. “I have an implant… how could I possibly be six weeks pregnant?”

“Extreme stress, aggressive chemo drugs lingering in your system, or simple hormonal changes can cause oral contraceptives to fail completely. Combined with an unexpected, rapid recovery of ovarian function… well. Nature found a way.” She offers me a soft, reassuring smile. “Which tells me one thing, Zara: this baby really, really wants to be born.”

A heavy, suffocating wave of terror hits me square in the chest, instantly smothering the faint spark of joy before it can even take root. My hands begin to shake violently as the terrifying reality of my recent medical history crashes down on me like a physical avalanche.

“Oh my God,” I gasp, my breathing turning shallow and fast as my mind begins to race down a horrifying,

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dark spiral. “Oh my God… Dr. Mercer, the chemo. My body was full of toxic poison only weeks ago! What if Those drugs damaged the egg? What if there are severe birth defects or… or developmental damage?”

My voice cracks into a desperate sob as the crushing weight of guilt squeezes my lungs until I can hardly

draw air.

“And I didn’t know!” I choke out. “I’ve been drinking coffee every morning, and Jade and I had a Margarita party just a few weeks ago, and I’ve been drinking wine. I’ve been taking anti-nausea meds for my post-chemo recovery, and pain medication. Did I poison the baby? Did I ruin everything before it even had

a chance?”

“Zara, stop. Look at me and breathe,” Dr. Mercer says. “Listen to me very carefully, okay? Chemo drugs flush out of your soft tissues remarkably fast once active infusions stop.”

She leans in closer, her gaze unwavering.

“As for the alcohol, the coffee, and the pain meds… you didn’t know. Millions of women take over-the-counter medications and drink before realizing they’re expecting. At six weeks, the embryonic sac is protected.”

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