Chapter 388 Silent Pulse

Abigail’s POV

Sebastian came home late, still in his work clothes. He passed me without a glance and went straight upstairs to his study.

A moment later, I heard a drawer slam, then another. His footsteps hurried back down.

“Did you touch my drawer?”

I set down my tea. “What do you mean?”

“The photographs.” He stopped in front of me. “Where are Emilia’s photographs?”

“I burned them.”

His face went pale. Then he grabbed my wrist, squeezing hard enough to hurt.

“I burned everything of hers,” I continued. “Her photos, her clothes, all of it. She’s gone, Sebastian. Keeping her junk in this house won’t bring her back. We can’t start a new life while you’re worshipping a ghost.”

He slapped me before I could say anything else.

I stumbled and fell, my cheek burning. For a moment, I stayed on the floor with one hand pressed against my face. Then I looked up and gave him a mocking smile.

“Not the face. If you want to hit me so badly, hit my stomach. Go on. Hit the baby.”

I could see how angry he was. I pushed him anyway, wanting to find out whether there was anything he wouldn’t do.

“You think I won’t?”

He crouched in front of me and clenched his fist. His eyes had changed, and I couldn’t tell how much control he still had over Ryder.

“No!”

Mila rushed between us, shielding me. Titus caught Sebastian by the shoulder and pulled him back.

“Come with me,” he said. “We need to talk. Now.”

Sebastian went upstairs with him. When the study door closed, I was still on the floor, shaking and holding my cheek.

They stayed in there for a long time. I could hear their voices but not the words. Whatever Titus was saying, Sebastian didn’t sound willing to listen.

By the time they came downstairs, I had taken a fruit knife from the table.

The servants stood back, watching me. Mila held out her hands and approached carefully.

“Abigail, put it down. Think about the child. If you hurt yourself, you hurt the baby, and that helps no one.”

“I’m not listening to any of you!” Tears ran down my face. “I’ll only listen to Sebastian! If he won’t look at me, then I’ll end it right here, tonight!”

I pointed the knife at my belly. Sebastian walked past without turning his head.

I’d expected him to stop. Even if he hated me, surely he would care enough about the baby to say something.

When he kept walking, I thrust the knife toward my stomach.

He caught my hand and knocked it away before it reached me. The knife struck the marble and slid across the floor.

Sebastian turned to face me. There was no panic in his expression, no sign of the concern I’d wanted.

“Are you finished?”

I’d done all this to make him look at me, but now I wished he hadn’t. His indifference hurt worse than the slap. For a moment, I couldn’t bear the thought of another day like this.

I bent and grabbed the knife again. This time, I pressed it to my wrist.

He caught my hand before I could do more than scratch the skin. A little blood ran into my palm as he forced the knife from my fingers.

“If you want to die,” he said, “why drag an innocent life down with you?”

“I tried so hard to carry your child because I wanted a happy life with you.” I could barely get the words out. “If I’d known you’d turn into this monster, why would I have ever wanted to bring a baby into it?”

He growled, keeping hold of my wrist.

“We can’t go back. We can’t wipe the slate clean and start over. You chose this road, Abigail. So now you owe something to the child inside you.”

He looked straight at me.

“You will carry him to term. Even if it costs you your life, you will give birth to that pup.”

I stared at him, hardly hearing the threat. He wanted the baby.

Was he finally acknowledging our son? After weeks of refusing to ask about him, Sebastian had stopped me from hurting him. He’d called him an innocent life.

That had to mean something.

If he could accept the child, perhaps he could eventually accept me. He might not believe it now, but things would be different once he held his son.

For the first time since I’d moved into the estate, I went to bed with hope.

That night, I dreamed Sebastian came to the maternity ward carrying red roses. He sat beside my bed, kissed our son, and told me he’d come to take us home. When I leaned against him, he smiled at me the way I’d always wanted him to.

I woke up happy.

I dressed carefully the next morning, humming as I got ready. I had a prenatal appointment, and for once, I wanted to go.

Until now, I’d paid more attention to getting Sebastian back than to the pregnancy itself. The tests and scans had been useful when I needed to convince his parents. This appointment felt different.

I wanted to see my son.

On the drive to the hospital, I rested a hand on my stomach.

“Baby, our good days are nearly here,” I whispered. “From now on, Mommy will come to every appointment. I promise.”

At the clinic, a nurse collected my urine sample and checked my blood pressure. Then she took me to the ultrasound room.

I lay back while the technician spread cold gel over my belly. As she moved the probe, I watched her face, waiting for her to smile.

Instead, she frowned.

“Is everything all right?”

She adjusted the probe and studied the screen. Then she spoke to the doctor beside her in a voice I couldn’t quite hear.

The doctor looked at the monitor before leaving the room.

“Where is she going?” I asked.

“We’re asking your obstetrician to join us.”

I tried to sit up, but the technician asked me to stay where I was. She kept scanning, checking the same area again.

My obstetrician arrived a few minutes later. The three of them examined the screen and spoke among themselves. None of them offered the reassurance I was waiting for.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “What’s wrong with my baby?”

My doctor turned toward me and rested a hand on my arm.

“I’m so sorry. We’ve checked carefully, but there’s no heartbeat. Your baby has died.”