The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 404

Eyes bag Novel 402

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Chapter 198-3

“You don’t need to dwell on that now –

“I have to,” he insists softly, his chest shuddering as he draws in another faint breath. “I need you to hear me say it before I close my eyes. You deserve to be loved, Zara. Truly loved. Deeply, safely, completely. You deserve a man who looks at you like you’re the absolute center of the world, a man who builds a world with you instead of tearing it down around your ears.”

He exhales, a ragged hitch in his chest.

“I was broken long before you ever looked my way,” Knox murmurs. “I’m incapable of loving anyone. My soul was torn up when I was young, and I spent my whole life making everyone else pay for it. I couldn’t love you, I couldn’t love Becca, I couldn’t even be a decent friend to Mayhem. That wasn’t your failure. It was mine. It was never your fault.”

The weight of his words washes over me, settling into the deepest, darkest corners of my heart where the lingering pain of our past had slept for years.

Hearing it spoken aloud – unfiltered, honest, stripped of all defensiveness – breaks the last rusty chains of guilt and self–doubt I didn’t even realize I was still carrying.

“Thank you, Knox,” I whisper, leaning down slightly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You’re going to have a beautiful life. Tell Locke… tell him if he ever hurts you… I’ll find a way to curse his motorcycle from beyond that grave.”

“I’ll tell him. He’ll probably believe you, too.”

“Good…” Knox chuckles, his voice fading into a whisper as light as a feather floating down through the dusty air. “That’s… that’s good…”

The laugh fades, leaving a gentle, profound peace in its wake. The years of trauma and silence, the screaming matches, the tears, the betrayals – it all shrinks until it fits into the space of our joined hands.

Knox’s breath begins to slow down to almost nothing. His fingers in mine grow cold, his grip loosening slowly, but he doesn’t let go entirely, and neither do I.

“Thank you, Zara,” Knox whispers, his eyes growing heavy, reflecting the soft, warm light of that distant kitchen in his memories. “For staying. For loving me. For… for baking me a birthday cake.”

“You’re welcome, Knox,” I say, offering him the grace and acceptance he spent his whole life

Chapter 198-3

searching for in all the wrong places. “Rest now. It’s okay. You can let go.”

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Knox lets out one final, long, peaceful sigh. The tension leaves his broad shoulders, his jaw relaxes, and his eyes slowly lose their light, settling into an unbroken, fixed stillness.

I kneel in the cooling blood for a long, quiet minute, holding his hand until the last residual warmth leaves his skin. I reach up with two fingers and gently close his eyes.

“Goodbye, Knox,” I whisper. “I forgive you.”

I stand up slowly. My knees are soaked in red, my body aches from head to toe, but as I turn my back on the center of the room and walk toward the shattered doors, the heavy, suffocating weight I carried for years is gone.

I’m bruised, battered, and bleeding, but I walk into the night air whole.

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Chapter 198-3

“I have to,” he insists softly, his chest shuddering as he draws in another faint breath. “I need you to hear me say it before I close my eyes. You deserve to be loved, Zara. Truly loved. Deeply, safely, completely. You deserve a man who looks at you like you’re the absolute center of the world, a man who builds a world with you instead of tearing it down around your ears.”

“I was broken long before you ever looked my way,” Knox murmurs. “I’m incapable of loving anyone. My soul was torn up when I was young, and I spent my whole life making everyone else pay for it. I couldn’t love you, I couldn’t love Becca, I couldn’t even be a decent friend to Mayhem. That wasn’t your failure. It was mine. It was never your fault.”

“Thank you, Zara,” Knox whispers, his eyes growing heavy, reflecting the soft, warm light of that distant kitchen in his memories. “For staying. For loving me. For… for baking me a birthday cake.”

“You’re welcome, Knox,” I say, offering him the grace and acceptance he spent his whole life

Chapte 198-3

searching for in all the wrong places. “Rest now. It’s okay. You can let

go.”

425 Prants

Knox lets out one final, long, peaceful sigh. The tension leaves his broad shoulders, his jaw relaxes, and his eyes slowly lose their light, settling into an unbroken, fixed stillness.

I kneel in the cooling blood for a long, quiet minute, holding his hand until the last residual warmth leaves his skin. I reach up with two fingers and gently close his eyes.

“Goodbye, Knox,” I whisper. “I forgive you.”

I stand up slowly. My knees are soaked in red, my body aches from head to toe, but as I turn my back on the center of the room and walk toward the shattered doors, the heavy, suffocating weight I carried for years is gone.

I’m bruised, battered, and bleeding, but I walk into the night air whole.

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LUCK DRAW >

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