"Otherwise, don't blame me for what happens next."
After delivering his ultimatum, Milford turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door mercilessly behind him.
Tamara slumped against the headboard, her fingers mindlessly twisting the bedsheets, her knuckles turning white from the sheer force of her grip. She stared blankly at the closed door, Milford's icy words echoing relentlessly in her ears. It felt as though an invisible hand had ruthlessly crushed her heart, the agony leaving her gasping for air.
She couldn't believe Milford was genuinely that heartless. So callous that he would casually discard his own flesh and blood without a second thought.
Tamara suddenly let out a bitter, cynical laugh. She had loved him so much. Marrying Milford had been her greatest ambition since she was a little girl. To make that dream a reality, she had sacrificed everything, even eagerly swallowing the endless cold shoulders and humiliations dished out by the Sherwood family.
She genuinely believed that if she just tried hard enough, if she made herself indispensable enough, she would eventually thaw his frozen heart. But now...
Tamara looked down at her flat stomach, knowing a fragile new life was growing inside her. This life shared both her blood and Milford's. Yet, Milford hadn't even spared it a second glance. Her love, her endless compromises—in his eyes, they meant absolutely nothing.
If that was how he wanted to play it, he couldn't blame her for being equally ruthless! Her eyes hardened with a toxic resolve as she dialed Hackett's number.
A short while later, the hospital room door burst open. Hackett and Zadie rushed in, panic written all over their faces!
"Tamara!"
Zadie immediately spotted her daughter's ashen complexion, and tears sprang to her eyes. "Oh honey, what happened to you?"
...
Ten minutes later.
Milford had only stepped away briefly to use the restroom. As he approached the suite, he caught the unmistakable sound of voices bleeding through the door.
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