The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 412

Chapter 202-1

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the machine even working?” Mayhem demands, his dark eyes wildly darting over the blank gray screen. “Fix it. Fix the fucking machine!”

Dad doesn’t say a word, but the sudden, terrifying pressure radiating off him is enough to suck the oxygen right out of the room. He grips the headboard behind me so hard that the frame gives a tiny, metallic groan.

Locke hovers over the bed, his shadow dark and imposing over the cart. His jaw is clamped shut so tight the muscle twitches violently beneath his skin, his knuckles stark white where his hand

clutches mine like a lifeline.

“Hold on a second,” Dr. Kline says with impressive calm, completely unfazed by the three massive frantic men towering over her. “The fetus is very small at this stage, and the wand was positioned over your abdominal muscle. I just need to angle it toward your pelvic bone.”

Dr. Kline adjusts her wrist, angling the transducer slightly to the left, pressing just a fraction deeper

into the cold gel. Then:

THUMP-THUMP. THUMP-THUMP THUMP-THUMP

The sound bursts into the quiet room like a thunderclap – a fast, steady, wildly energetic rhythm filling every corner of the sterile suite:

THUMP-THUMP. THUMP-THUMP THUMP-THUMP

The suffocating terror that held the room in a stranglehold breaks instantly, replaced by a wave of

relief so massive it feels physically overwhelming.

I burst into tears, a ragged sob tearing from my chest as I cover my face with my free hand. The fear that’s been crushing my ribs since the café alleyway vanishes in a single breath, leaving me

weeping from sheer relief and joy. Every muscle in my body, held taut as a piano wire for hours,

suddenly uncoils all at once.

“The baby’s okay,” Locke says, his voice cracking violently around the edges as he looks at me.”

Listen to that, Zara… just listen to that…”

“There it is, your baby’s heart.” Dr. Kline smiles, pointing a slender finger at a tiny, flickering white speck pulsing frantically in the center of the dark circle on the monitor. “Strong, regular rhythm. Exactly one hundred and fifty-four beats per minute.”

“So, there’s no damage to the placenta?” I ask, wiping my eyes with the back of my bruised forearm, my voice trembling.

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“None. The placenta is fully intact, no signs of fluid leakage, internal bleeding, or distress whatsoever. Your baby is completely fine, Zara. A little fighter.”

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“Look at that, Locke…. the heart beating,” I say, laughing through my tears as I stare at that tiny, galloping pulse of light on the screen. “Oh God, Locke, our baby is safe.”

“I see it, Zara,” he says, leaning up over the bed to wrap his hand around the back of my heck,

pressing his lips firmly to my temple as he stares fixedly at the cart. “Strongest thing in the whole world. God, I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, handsome.”

Behind us, Dad lets out a sound that is half-groan, half-exhalation. It’s a massive, bone-deep

release of pressure that sounds like a prayer uttered after a long war.

He steps up to the edge of the bed, laying his palm gently over the top of my head, his fingers trembling just a fraction against my scalp with rare, profound tenderness.

“That’s a Skulls heart right there,” Dad says, his voice rough with an emotion he almost never

shows to the world. “Strong as iron. Born out of the storm.”

Beside him, Mayhem is staring at the screen with his mouth slightly open, a look of complete, unadulterated wonder washing over his hard features. The cold, ruthless killer who was ready to

tear the city apart to find me has completely vanished. His dark eyes shine brightly, reflecting the

flickering white light of the monitor.

“Holy shit,” Mayhem whispers, his voice unusually soft, carrying an oddly childish awe that makes

my heart swell. He leans in closer to the cart, staring at the tiny pulsing dot as if it were the most

incredible thing he’d ever witnessed. “Look at that little heart go… it’s like a tiny engine.”

He shakes his head, letting out a breathless, disbelieving laugh as he glances over at Locke, then back at the screen, running a hand through his dark hair.

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