The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 408

Chapter 200-2

My heart stops.

The pale white of my underwear is ruined. A thick, dark crimson stain is spreading outward, heavy, dark, and hot against the fabric.

I stand there in my own blood for what feels like hours, the sharp cramps slowly giving way to a dull, hollow, sickening throb.

“No,” I say numbly. “No, not now. Please, God, not now…”

Another cramp hits me, far worse than the first. It feels as if a pair of ruthless, invisible hands has reached inside my pelvis, twisting, wringing, tearing at my insides with merciless strength. My knees instantly buckle, and I crash down onto the hard, freezing marble floor.

I roll onto my side, clutching my stomach, a high, broken keening sound rising from my

throat.

I’m losing him. I’m losing Knox’s son, seven months in, bleeding out onto the tile floor of an empty house.

My baby.

Knox’s baby.

The last thing I had. The only real thing left in my pathetic, desperate existence. The tiny, fragile life that was supposed to tie Knox to me forever, the baby that was supposed to make me a mother, that was supposed to make me worth something.

“Please,” I sob into the cold tile, my fingers clawing at the grout lines until my nails bend and bleed. “Please, stop… please stay… Knox is gone, don’t leave me too… please…”

The universe doesn’t listen. It doesn’t care.

Desperation overrides everything. With my free, bloody hand, I blindly reach into my jacket pocket, my slick fingers wrapping around my phone. I punch three numbers with trembling hands and press the screen to my ear.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“I’m… I’m bleeding,” I gasp out, my voice cracking into a raw, breathless scream as another spasm rips through me. “I’m seven months pregnant… I’m hemorrhaging. Please send an ambulance to 1428 Elm Street, hurry!”

A

Chapter 200-2

“Ma’am, stay on the line with me, help is on the way.”

+25 Points

I drop the phone onto the floor beside me. The operator’s voice continues to chatter faintly from the speaker, but the sound fades into the background as the brutal reality of what’s happening fully takes hold.

The physical pain is overwhelming, but the emotional void opening up inside me is a thousand times worse. It’s a black hole, cold and endless, swallowing every trace of warmth, every scrap of hope, every fragile dream I had ever nursed in the dark while waiting for Knox

to call me.

I lie there in my own blood, the sharp cramps slowly giving way to a dull, hollow, sickening

throb.

My crying stops. My gasping, frantic sobs fade into the heavy, suffocating silence of the bathroom. The tears on my cheeks begin to dry, leaving stiff, salty tracks across my skin.

I stare at the dark pool spreading across the white marble near my knees.

It’s over. Knox is gone. My baby, my home, my safety, my future – all of it has been swept away, leaving me bleeding out on a cold bathroom floor in an empty house.

Alone.

It settles into the hollow space where my heart used to beat, filling the void with a dark, toxic weight.

Why me?

The thought creeps into my mind, quiet at first, then echoing louder and louder until it fills every corner of my skull.

Why do I get the cold floor? Why do I get the blood and the ashes?

Zara got out.

I know she did. I saw her in that warehouse: bruised and bloody, yes, but protected. I saw the way Willow stood over her with that knife. I know where she is right now. She’s at the clubhouse. She’s wrapped in a cocoon of soft voices and hard men.

She has Locke. Locke, who would tear the world apart just to wipe a tear from her cheek. She has her father, her brother, an entire army of men willing to die to keep her safe.

And she has a healthy baby growing inside her. A protected baby that will be loved, that will have a father, that will have a home.

2.4

Chapter 200 2

+25 Points

Zara took everything. Zara walked through the storm and came out clean, while I’m left here drowning in the dark.

It isn’t fair.

It was never fair.

A slow, deliberate breath pulls into my chest. I push my hands flat against the bloody tile, forcing myself to stand up. My legs are weak, trembling like leaves in the wind, but I force them to take my weight. I grip the edge of the porcelain sink, steadying myself, and slowly lift my head to look into the large mirror above the basin.

The woman staring back at me doesn’t look like Becca Chastain.

Her face is stark white, smeared with blood and dried tears. Her hair is matted with sweat,

hanging in dark, tangled strings around her neck. Her blue eyes – once bright, desperate, and pleading – are hollow. The fear is completely gone from them. In its place is a flat, lethal, unyielding emptiness.

The frantic mistress who cried over Knox’s mixed signals, the pathetic girl who begged for crumbs of affection, the terrified woman who ran from a warehouse… she died on this bathroom floor tonight, washed away in a pool of her own blood.

I turn away from the mirror. I don’t clean my face. I don’t wash my hands.

Step by deliberate step, I walk out of the bathroom, leaving a trail of dark crimson footprints down the hallway. I make my way to the small wooden armchair positioned right beside the front door.

I sit down quietly.

I lean my head back against the wall, my pants ruined, the dark blood slowly pooling out beneath the chair onto the hardwood floor. In the distance, the faint, wailing screech of approaching sirens cuts through the pounding sleet outside.

The paramedics will arrive in seconds. They will take me to the hospital, they will clean the blood, and they will try to save what’s left of my body.

They think they’re saving a victim.

Zara thinks it’s over. She thinks the ghosts are dead, that Knox was the final monster under her bed, that she can settle into her fucking warm, perfect little life with Locke and build a family on the ruins of my life.

She has no idea what’s coming for her.

314

Chapter 200-2

+25 Points

I sit in the dark, watching the red-and-blue lights flash against the windowpanes, a tiny, chilling smile touching the corner of my lips. I catch my reflection in the mirror on the wall, and my expression is so cold, so entirely devoid of humanity, it doesn’t belong to a living

person.

I’m a ghost.

“Enjoy your peace while you still can, Zara,” I whisper. “Enjoy every single fucking second of it. It won’t last.”

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