The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 902

He didn't give her a chance to press further, smoothly shifting to a tone of undeniable concern. "Take care of yourself these next few days, and take good care of my little grandson."

"Wait, I—" Tamara tried to interject, but a sharp dial tone had already cut her off.

He had hung up, clean and decisive.

Tamara stood frozen in the sunlight flooding the balcony, still holding the phone to her ear, the device warming against her palm.

The mysterious man's message had caught her completely off guard. She didn't feel a shred of happiness.

The sun outside was bright and generous, yet as she stood in its golden rays, a chilling dread crept up from the soles of her feet, spreading through her veins.

She subconsciously rested her free hand over the swell of her belly.

A tiny life was growing safely inside.

Maybe it's just the pregnancy hormones making me paranoid, Tamara reasoned with herself.

The man had described her specific physical traits with absolute precision. He couldn't be lying.

Besides, what did she even have left for anyone to con her out of?

...

Meanwhile, Clive sat in the private clinic, wallowing in his miserable diagnosis for a while before grabbing his test results to leave.

Terrified of being recognized, he pulled the collar of his hoodie up tight and yanked the brim of his baseball cap down low, obscuring most of his face.

He rushed out, practically jogging all the way back to his place. He moved like a shadow, desperate to avoid the glare of any potential camera lenses.

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