His voice left no room for appeal.
I stared at him.
I had known for a long time that there was nothing left between us. But I never imagined, not even in my worst dreams, that he wouldn't care about the baby either.
"Let go of me!"
I fought with everything I had, but two bodyguards pinned me down.
In the struggle my lower back slammed hard against something solid.
Warmth flooded down my inner thigh, and the pain hit so fast my legs buckled under me.
"Fred… it hurts. Please."
I reached for him, begging.
Something flickered behind his eyes. Then Bianca screamed again.
"Fred, I'm bleeding too!"
She clutched her stomach.
His face changed in an instant. He scooped Bianca up into his arms.
"Get me a doctor. Now. Move!"
He carried her away without looking back.
The bodyguards seized me under the arms and dragged me toward the operating room.
I stopped fighting. I used the last of my strength to pull out my phone and dial Alfred.
"Uncle Alfred… help me…"
Light hit my eyes. I was lying in a private recovery suite, and I didn't know how I'd gotten there.
"Miss Pruitt!"
Alfred's voice reached me first—sharp, urgent, calling for the doctor.
I forced something like a smile, then turned my head.
My father sat on the sofa across the room. Roger Pruitt, tearing a newspaper to confetti with his bare hands.
"Fred Delgado, is it?"
"He dared do that to you. I'll make him pay with every last piece of the Delgado Group."
My father's jaw was clenched so tight the muscles in his face stood out.
His eyes were rimmed red—the kind of red that comes from holding it together when you shouldn't have to.
"The baby..."
I was quiet for a long moment before I could bring myself to ask.
One look at Alfred, the way he couldn't meet my eyes, and I already knew. The baby was gone.
A bitter laugh escaped me, then another.
I hated Fred Delgado for taking my child from me. But part of me was grateful the baby would never have to call a man like him father.
"Dad, I'm sorry."
My father's eyes went redder. After a long silence, he let out a heavy breath, stepped forward, and took my hand.
"Silly girl. How could I ever blame you?"
"I just wish you'd come home sooner."
The tears fell before I could stop them.
I'd run away years ago, desperate to prove I didn't need anyone. Then I convinced myself I'd found real love—went so far as to forge a new identity, told everyone I was an orphan with no family at all.