Chapter 185

The sterile white walls of the OB-GYN ward closed in around Cassandra Delacroix.

She gripped the hospital sheets, her knuckles turning white. The evidence against her was overwhelming—witnesses, security footage, everything.

Bail had been granted, but two officers stood guard outside her door.

One word from Isabella Lockhart, and she'd be serving three years behind bars.

Pregnancy and breastfeeding might delay her sentence, but not erase it.

A criminal record would destroy everything.

Why had she ever underestimated Isabella?

Her phone lay silent beside her. Nathaniel Blackwood hadn't answered a single call.

Would he even lift a finger to save her now?

The door clicked open. Her doctor entered, expression grim.

"Miss Delacroix," he said quietly, shutting the door. "Your test results... there's a complication."

Her stomach dropped. "What's wrong with my baby?"

"It's... perhaps we should wait for Mr. Blackwood—"

"No." She sat up sharply. "Tell me now. It's my body, my decision."

The doctor hesitated, then handed her the report. "We've detected a severe genetic abnormality. If carried to term, your child would likely have profound cognitive impairments. We strongly recommend—"

"That's impossible!" Cassandra's voice cracked. "My baby was perfectly healthy last week! Both parents are fine—this has to be a mistake!"

"Miss Delacroix, please—"

"Don't 'please' me!" She threw the papers aside. "You want me to abort Nathaniel Blackwood's heir? Do you have any idea what his family would do to you?"

This child was her only lifeline.

(Though privately, she wasn't entirely sure Nathaniel was the father. That drunken night at Velvet Room... had there been others?)

The doctor paled. "Termination isn't just about the child's quality of life. There's a high probability the fetus won't survive the third trimester. Continuing this pregnancy could endanger you—"

"Enough!" Cassandra's nails dug into her palms. "If my baby lives, it's a miracle. If not, it's fate. But you will not breathe a word of this to anyone."

She leaned forward, eyes burning. "One whisper about the Blackwood heir being defective, and I'll make sure you never practice medicine again."

The doctor swallowed hard. "Understood, Miss Delacroix. Your... discretion will be respected."

As he hurried out, Cassandra collapsed against the pillows.

She had exactly one chance left.

And she'd gamble everything on it.