The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 419

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7m okay” I say softly, wrapping my hands around a steaming mug of chamomile tea Willow poured for me” “A little sore, a little tired. But having you guys here… it makes the bad stuff feel far away

“It is far away.” Jade says fiercely, pointing a dumpling at me with her chopsticks. “Knox is dead. The warehouse is ash. You’re home, you’ve got Locke, you’ve got us, and you’ve got a puppy who thinks she’s a Navy SEAL. End of story.”

“The universe is shifting its alignment for you, Zara,” Willow agrees, taking a delicate sip of her tea. She looks at me with those wide, luminous eyes that always seem to see right through people. “A major cycle of darkness has closed. Now, your spirit is making room for the new light. The life growing inside you needs peaceful, harmonious energy.”

I place a hand over my stomach, right over the hidden, quiet miracle growing beneath the healing bruise. “I just want things to be normal for a while.”

“Normal is boring,” Jade says airily, reaching over to steal a piece of fried dim sum from my plate. “Besides, there’s nothing normal about raising a baby in a motorcycle club. That kid is going to have thirty uncles with leather jackets and zero boundary control.”

Willow’s face brightens instantly, setting her tea mug down with a soft click. “Oh! That reminds me! We must start discussing the name frequency.”

I raise an eyebrow, setting my fork down. The name frequency?”

“Yes,” Willow beams, leaning forward on her cushion, her dress fluttering around her ankles.

“A child’s name dictates their cosmic vibration for their entire life, so it must harmonise with

the stars, the earth, and the moon. I spent all morning meditating on potential names for your sweet little soul.”

Jade snorts into her plum sauce. “Oh, God. Here we go. What did you come up with, Sunshine? Raindrop? Patchouli?”

Willow ignores Jade entirely, turning to me with an expression of pure, earnest excitement. “If it’s a boy, I was feeling a very strong pull toward Zephyr. It means the gentle west breeze. Or perhaps Solstice? It honors the height of the sun’s power.”

“Imagine Locke standing at the clubhouse telling thirty 200–pound bikers, ‘Hey, meet my son, Solstice.‘ Mayhem would never stop laughing.”

Willow clasps her hands together under her chin, her eyes shining with starry–eyed wonder. “Oh, for a girl, the vibrations are even more delicate. Moonstone. Or Aura. Or… Coriander.”

Jade literally chokes on her egg roll, coughing into a napkin as her shoulders shake uncontrollably. “Coriander? Willow, that’s an herb. You want her to name her daughter after Cilantro’s weird cousin?”

“It promotes salsa,” Jade wheezes, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye, her heavy dark eye makeup surprisingly remaining flawless. “Zara, please promise me right now. If it’s a girl, you will not name my goddaughter after a spice rack.”

A sudden, sharp pain shoots through my ribs, not from my injuries, but from laughing so hard tears are blurring my vision. “I promise, Jade. No Coriander. No Solstice.”

“You two have no appreciation for sacred nomenclature,” Willow huffs playfully, though a bright, beautiful smile breaks across her face as she watches us laugh. She reaches into one of her canvas bags and pulls out three large glass jars filled with colorful, thick pastes. “Anyway, enough about names for now. It’s time for skin restoration and spiritual alignment.”

Jade eyes the jars warily, setting her chopsticks down. “What’s in those?”

“Pure organic face masks,” Willow says proudly, setting the jars in the center of the coffee table. “I mixed them fresh this afternoon.”

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