He Chose His Bastard Over Our Baby - Chapter 11: Chapter 11
You are reading He Chose His Bastard Over Our Baby, Chapter 11: Chapter 11. Read more chapters of He Chose His Bastard Over Our Baby.
Lorenzo's phone vibrated against the table. One glance at the caller ID and he snatched it up.
"Oh boss," I cooed, letting each syllable drip like honey. "I think... I'm about to pass out. The hospital... I'm terrified. Please... come get me? I need you."
Dead air.
Then Lorenzo shot to his feet. "Where?" His voice cut through the silence like a blade. "I'm on my way."
Isabella's head jerked up. "Lorenzo—"
But he was already halfway to the door.
She practically fell out of bed grabbing his arm. "You can't just abandon me!"
He didn't even look back. With one sharp twist, he freed himself and vanished, leaving her choking on sobs.
From the shadows, I smirked. Then dissolved into the darkness.
Checkmate, Isabella.
The door exploded inward.
Lorenzo came barreling into the hospital room like a man possessed. All that panic... for little old me. How sweet. Poor, predictable Lorenzo.
I lay perfectly arranged on the bed—pale as moonlight under the sterile glow, chest rising in shallow bursts. The heart monitor's steady beep provided the soundtrack, wires snaking across the sheets, oxygen mask dangling just so.
A goddamn work of art.
That bribed doctor earned every penny—he'd crafted the perfect near-death tableau to yank Lorenzo's strings.
"Victoria!"
His voice cracked with desperation.
I let my head loll sideways, eyelids fluttering like a wounded butterfly. "You... came," I breathed.
Two strides and he was at my side, hands trembling inches above me like I might disintegrate. "What happened?"
A shaky exhale. "I don't... know. One minute I was fine, then..."
I nearly choked holding back laughter.
"You should've told me you weren't well."
"Would it have mattered?"
His face darkened, guilt flashing in those black-hole eyes. "You know it would."
Liar. I turned away, savoring the thick silence. He wasn't just concerned—he was fucking terrified. Then—
"YOU LYING SLUT!"
Ah. Isabella.
The hilarious part? Her room was literally down the hall.
She exploded into the room radiating fury. "I knew it! Another one of your twisted games!" She whirled on Lorenzo, eyes nuclear. "Open your eyes! She's faking!"
I pressed a delicate hand to my chest. "I-I don't understand..." Voice quivering like a leaf in a storm.
Lorenzo's entire demeanor shifted as he turned to me. "Pay her no mind."
Isabella's jaw dropped. "You're seriously buying this?" A harsh laugh ripped from her throat. "She's pulling the same shit I did with my pr—"
Lorenzo went statue-still. "Finish that sentence."
The room froze.
For half a heartbeat, I thought she'd struck gold.
Then—
"Get. Out."
Isabella recoiled like she'd been slapped. "Lorenzo—"
"I won't repeat myself."
His voice dropped to subzero. I watched in real time as her composure imploded, her whole world collapsing with three words.
"You'll hate yourself for this," she whispered. "She'll destroy you."
He didn't even acknowledge her. The door slammed behind her with finality.
Lorenzo dragged a hand down his face. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
"Why?"
His jaw clenched. "Amara won't leave my head."
I stopped breathing. Swallowed the acid crawling up my throat. Kept my face a perfect blank slate.
Lorenzo's fingers twisted in the sheets. "Every night, it's the same—her screams, the blood on my hands..." His voice shattered. "I picked Dante over my own child."
My nails carved half-moons into my palms beneath the blankets.
"She was my daughter. My flesh and blood. I should've—"
I forced my lungs to keep rhythm. Don't react. Don't scream. Because I remembered everything. The backhand across my face when I dared accuse him of choosing Isabella. The metallic taste of betrayal. The way he spat 'liar' like it was my name. How he let our daughter die to save his ex's kid.
And now he gets to play the grieving father? No. That privilege burned to ash long ago.
I let my fingers ghost over his wrist—a whisper of contact. "You couldn't have known," I murmured. Lie.
Lorenzo shuddered like I'd struck lightning through him. When my fingers traced his knuckles, I felt the exact moment his defenses collapsed.
He turned to me with eyes full of broken glass. "I don't understand it," he rasped, "but you... you're the only thing that doesn't suffocate me."
I tilted my face up, lips parting just so. Then fed him the sweetest poison:
"I'm not going anywhere," I whispered.
As his forehead pressed against mine, I smiled against his skin. Every second he fell deeper was another nail in his coffin.
When the time came, I'd be the one walking away. And this time? I'd make sure the divorce papers left a papercut on his way down.
"Oh boss," I cooed, letting each syllable drip like honey. "I think... I'm about to pass out. The hospital... I'm terrified. Please... come get me? I need you."
Dead air.
Then Lorenzo shot to his feet. "Where?" His voice cut through the silence like a blade. "I'm on my way."
Isabella's head jerked up. "Lorenzo—"
But he was already halfway to the door.
She practically fell out of bed grabbing his arm. "You can't just abandon me!"
He didn't even look back. With one sharp twist, he freed himself and vanished, leaving her choking on sobs.
From the shadows, I smirked. Then dissolved into the darkness.
Checkmate, Isabella.
The door exploded inward.
Lorenzo came barreling into the hospital room like a man possessed. All that panic... for little old me. How sweet. Poor, predictable Lorenzo.
I lay perfectly arranged on the bed—pale as moonlight under the sterile glow, chest rising in shallow bursts. The heart monitor's steady beep provided the soundtrack, wires snaking across the sheets, oxygen mask dangling just so.
A goddamn work of art.
That bribed doctor earned every penny—he'd crafted the perfect near-death tableau to yank Lorenzo's strings.
"Victoria!"
His voice cracked with desperation.
I let my head loll sideways, eyelids fluttering like a wounded butterfly. "You... came," I breathed.
Two strides and he was at my side, hands trembling inches above me like I might disintegrate. "What happened?"
A shaky exhale. "I don't... know. One minute I was fine, then..."
I nearly choked holding back laughter.
"You should've told me you weren't well."
"Would it have mattered?"
His face darkened, guilt flashing in those black-hole eyes. "You know it would."
Liar. I turned away, savoring the thick silence. He wasn't just concerned—he was fucking terrified. Then—
"YOU LYING SLUT!"
Ah. Isabella.
The hilarious part? Her room was literally down the hall.
She exploded into the room radiating fury. "I knew it! Another one of your twisted games!" She whirled on Lorenzo, eyes nuclear. "Open your eyes! She's faking!"
I pressed a delicate hand to my chest. "I-I don't understand..." Voice quivering like a leaf in a storm.
Lorenzo's entire demeanor shifted as he turned to me. "Pay her no mind."
Isabella's jaw dropped. "You're seriously buying this?" A harsh laugh ripped from her throat. "She's pulling the same shit I did with my pr—"
Lorenzo went statue-still. "Finish that sentence."
The room froze.
For half a heartbeat, I thought she'd struck gold.
Then—
"Get. Out."
Isabella recoiled like she'd been slapped. "Lorenzo—"
"I won't repeat myself."
His voice dropped to subzero. I watched in real time as her composure imploded, her whole world collapsing with three words.
"You'll hate yourself for this," she whispered. "She'll destroy you."
He didn't even acknowledge her. The door slammed behind her with finality.
Lorenzo dragged a hand down his face. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
"Why?"
His jaw clenched. "Amara won't leave my head."
I stopped breathing. Swallowed the acid crawling up my throat. Kept my face a perfect blank slate.
Lorenzo's fingers twisted in the sheets. "Every night, it's the same—her screams, the blood on my hands..." His voice shattered. "I picked Dante over my own child."
My nails carved half-moons into my palms beneath the blankets.
"She was my daughter. My flesh and blood. I should've—"
I forced my lungs to keep rhythm. Don't react. Don't scream. Because I remembered everything. The backhand across my face when I dared accuse him of choosing Isabella. The metallic taste of betrayal. The way he spat 'liar' like it was my name. How he let our daughter die to save his ex's kid.
And now he gets to play the grieving father? No. That privilege burned to ash long ago.
I let my fingers ghost over his wrist—a whisper of contact. "You couldn't have known," I murmured. Lie.
Lorenzo shuddered like I'd struck lightning through him. When my fingers traced his knuckles, I felt the exact moment his defenses collapsed.
He turned to me with eyes full of broken glass. "I don't understand it," he rasped, "but you... you're the only thing that doesn't suffocate me."
I tilted my face up, lips parting just so. Then fed him the sweetest poison:
"I'm not going anywhere," I whispered.
As his forehead pressed against mine, I smiled against his skin. Every second he fell deeper was another nail in his coffin.
When the time came, I'd be the one walking away. And this time? I'd make sure the divorce papers left a papercut on his way down.
End of He Chose His Bastard Over Our Baby Chapter 11. Continue reading Chapter 12 or return to He Chose His Bastard Over Our Baby book page.