Chapter 18
The rhythmic beeping of the hospital monitor kept me anchored to reality as I slowly opened my eyes. Every muscle in my body protested, but instinctively, my hand moved to rest on my stomach.
“The baby,” I murmured, my voice barely audible and quivering with emotion.
“You’re both okay,” Wesley reassured me softly, seated by my side, his hand enveloping mine with a firm grip. “The baby’s safe. But you need to focus on recovering.”
I exhaled shakily, relief cascading over me Yet, the haunting images of the mall–the sudden grasp, the gunshots–remained vivid.
“What exactly happened?” I croaked, my
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throat dry and raspy.
Wesley’s expression hardened. “We looked into it. According to the police, it was a robbery. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, Iris.”
His explanation didn’t sit well with me. Something about the incident seemed… off.
“No,” I insisted, shaking my head. “It wasn’t random, Wesley. It felt deliberate.”
Wesley scrutinized me, a frown creasing his brow. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m saying it wasn’t a coincidence,” I declared firmly. “Someone intended to harm
- me. I feel certain.”
Wesley exhaled, his jaw set with
determination. “If that’s truly what you
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believe, I’ll ensure it’s re–investigated. But right now, you need to concentrate on getting better.”
“I don’t want to be voice unsteady.
Be” I confessed, my
“You won’t be,” Wesley assured me, leaning in closer. “There are bodyguards posted outside your door. And I’m here with you, always.”
In the days that followed, time dragged by, filled with tension and unease.
The doctors insisted on keeping me hospitalized. My pregnancy was precarious, needing careful monitoring. Wesley stayed with me constantly, attending to every need.
Yet at night, as silence enveloped the room, dread crept back in.
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I pondered the baby, the life I had labored to build, and the chaos that unrelentingly trailed
- me.
Wesley was my anchor, holding my hand. when I drifted too far into my thoughts. “We’ll get through this,” he promised, his voice unwavering and comforting.
And I believed in him.
A few days later, one of Wesley’s staff entered my hospital room.
“We’ve reviewed the CCTV footage from the mall,” he announced, glancing at Wesley.
“And?” Wesley queried, his tone sharp.
The staff member hesitated. “It wasn’t a random act. Delilah was seen in the vicinity,
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surveilling Iris. We suspect she orchestrated the attack.”
Panic washed over me, my blood running cold.
“Delilah?” I whispered, my stomach twisting.
“She’s seeking revenge,” the man continued. “It’s clear this transcends money. She intends to harm you, Iris.”
Wesley rose, his demeanor rigid. “I want her located immediately. Make sure this information reaches the media. She needs to understand she can’t hide.”
The staff member nodded, leaving briskly to execute Wesley’s directive.
I sat there, paralyzed, as Wesley returned to my side.
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“Iris,” he said gently, crouching beside me. “I’ll handle this. You don’t need to concern yourself.”
“But I thought it was over, I confessed, my voice quivering. “I thought Quentin was the end of it.”
Wesley clasped my hands tenderly. “She’s desperate. She has nothing to cling to. People like her don’t know how to let go. But she’ll never hurt you. I won’t allow it.”
That evening, a nurse quietly entered the room, carrying a small package.
“This was delivered for you,” she explained, setting it down on the bedside table.
Wesley and I exchanged a wary glance before he carefully opened the package.
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As the lid lifted, a metallic odor assaulted my senses, turning my stomach.
Inside were baby clothes, stained with blood.
A slip of paper accompanied them, inked in red with a chilling message:
You ruined me. So I’m going to take everything from you.
Delilah
My breath hitched, panic seizing my chest.
Wesley slammed the box shut, his face dark with rage. “Enough,” he growled. “She’ll pay for this.”
Speechless, I sat there, my mind spinning, fixated on the closed box.
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Soon after, the TV in my hospital room flickered to life. Distracted, my thoughts were still consumed by Delilah’s threat.
Until I heard Wesley’s name.
“Billionaire Wesley Dorne ensnared in scandal, the news anchor declared, her tone sharp and dramatic.
I froze, my eyes snapping to the screen.
Images flashed across the television- Wesley smiling, cozying up to a woman with long, dark hair.
The next photo stopped my heart.
He was kissing her.
This was no friendly gesture or innocent
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snapshot. It was intimate, his hand tenderly cradling her face as if she mattered deeply to him.
“No,” I murmured, shaking my head, my pulse racing wildly.
I turned to Wesley, who sat beside me, his complexion ashen.
“What is this about?” I asked, my voice trembling as I gestured at the screen.
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