Isabela Walker POV
Pain wasn't a stranger to me, but this was different. It was a beast I didn't recognize.
It had started as a dull ache near my navel before migrating sharply to my right side, feeling like someone was twisting a rusty knife inside my gut with every breath I took.
I was curled on the bathroom floor of the penthouse, cold sweat matting my hair to my forehead.
The door banged open.
Kason stood there.
He looked down at me, huddled against the cold tiles, and his lip curled in disgust.
"Get up," he barked.
I tried to push myself up, my arms trembling, but a fresh wave of agony washed over me. I let out a pathetic whimper.
"I said get up, Isabela. I don't have time for your theater."
He crossed the room in two strides and grabbed my arm.
He hauled me to my feet with a grip that bruised.
My vision blurred, swimming in sickening tilts.
"It hurts," I gasped, clutching my side. "Kason, something is wrong."
"I know what's wrong," he sneered, dragging me toward the bedroom door. "You think you can trap me? You think getting pregnant is going to secure your spot in this house?"
I froze, despite the pain radiating through my core.
"What?"
"Don't play dumb. You missed your period. You're throwing up. You're clutching your stomach."
He shoved me toward the elevator.
"We're going to the clinic. Now."
"No," I cried, stumbling as my legs gave out. "I'm not... it's not that."
"I won't let you ruin Dalia's life with a bastard child," he said, his voice cold and final. "We are getting rid of it."
The ride to the clinic was a blur of nausea and terror.
Kason drove like a madman, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
He didn't look at me once.
He didn't see the sheen of fever glistening on my skin, or the way my teeth chattered despite the heat.
He only saw a problem he needed to erase.
We arrived at the private facility the Family used for bullet wounds and off-the-books surgeries.
He dragged me inside.
"Fix it," Kason ordered the doctor on duty. "She's pregnant. Terminate it."
The doctor, a gray-haired man who had stitched up Kason's father more times than I could count, looked at me.
I was doubled over, gasping for air.
"Mr. Oneal, she looks feverish," the doctor said, his brows knitting in concern.
"She's hysterical," Kason corrected sharply. "Just do it."
He turned and walked out to the waiting room, unable to even watch the cruelty he was inflicting.
The doctor helped me onto the table.
He pressed his hand to my abdomen, specifically the lower right quadrant.
I screamed.
It was a raw, animal sound that tore through my throat.
The doctor's face went pale.
"Get the gurney!" he shouted to a nurse. "Prep OR 1! Now!"
"What?" I whispered, darkness creeping into the edges of my vision.
"Your appendix," the doctor said urgently, checking my pulse. "It's about to burst. If we don't operate in five minutes, the sepsis will kill you."
The doors swung open.
They wheeled me out into the hallway.
Kason was standing there, checking his watch.
He looked up, annoyed.
"Is it done?"
The doctor stopped the gurney.
He looked at the Underboss of the Oneal family with zero fear, only fury.
"She isn't pregnant, you blind fool," the doctor spat. "She has acute appendicitis. You dragged a dying woman across the city and almost killed her."
Kason's phone slipped from his hand.
It hit the floor with a crack.
He looked at me.
Really looked at me.
He saw the gray pallor of my skin. The sweat. The agony.
"Bella?" he whispered, the old nickname slipping out like a ghost.
I looked at him through the haze of pain.
I didn't feel relief that he knew the truth.
I didn't feel love.
I felt nothing.
"You wanted it dead," I whispered, my voice raspy. "You wanted me dead."
Then, finally, the darkness took me.
