I Can't Help Myself

Chapter 8 The Wedding Bells Toll

"Wait!"

Clara jolted upright from the examination table, her voice sharp with urgency. "Doctor, I've changed my mind—is it too late?"

The anesthesiologist withdrew the needle with practiced ease, offering a reassuring nod.

"We haven't started yet. You can still change out of your surgical gown."

As the operating room doors swung shut behind her, steely determination settled in Clara's bones. The path wouldn't be easy, but she'd raise this child alone—working tirelessly, depending on no one.

Her mind still racing, Clara suddenly felt a rough yank on her arm.

"Clara Green?" The familiar voice dripped with mock surprise. "What brings you here?"

She whirled around to face the one face she never wanted to see again—Lance.

His gaze snapped to the medical file clutched in her hand. With predatory speed, he snatched it and devoured the details, his expression darkening.

"Pregnant?" His lip curled. "That hotel bastard's doing?"

"That's my concern, not yours." She wrenched the records from his grasp.

When she turned to leave, Lance's fingers closed like a vice around her wrist.

"Don't tell me you're keeping this mistake," he sneered, venom coating every word. "What—you want your kid to grow up fatherless, just like you?"

The words pierced like shards of glass. That oldest, deepest wound—not knowing her father—now ripped open barely healed scars. Hearing this cruelty from someone she'd once loved left her trembling.

Lance savored her crumbling composure. With deliberate slowness, he pulled two hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and forced the crumpled cash into her fist.

"For old times' sake. Call it pity money for your little... situation."

Vision blurring with unshed tears, Clara glared up at him. "You took everything from me, Lance. What more could you possibly want?"

His lips curled in a mirthless smirk. "Oh darling, I'm just getting started. You'll learn what true loss feels like."

"Why?" The word barely escaped her trembling lips.

"Want the truth?"

Lance dug his fingers into her flesh, backing her against the wall until cold tile pressed into her spine—nowhere left to retreat.

Lance hissed in her ear, "Go ask your mother what she did to Helen. Then you'll know why I'm making your life hell."

Clara's eyes flew open in shock. Helen was Lance's mother—what grudge could possibly exist between them?

"Clara!"

A shrill voice cut through the air. Both turned to see Isabella storming over, her heels clicking furiously. She yanked Lance away like a possessive terrier. "What are you doing with my man?"

Clara's smile was ice. "Even if he groveled at my feet, I wouldn't take him back. You'd better leash your cousin—stop him from throwing money at me like I'm some charity case."

Isabella's eyes bulged. "You gave her money?" she demanded, whirling on Lance.

He sneered with fake pity. "She's carrying some bastard's child alone. I felt sorry for her."

Isabella's face softened into a sickly sweet mask. "Oh? So the brat won't even know its own father?"

Clara turned to leave, but Isabella grabbed her arm with a sickly sweet smile. "Actually, I'm pregnant with Lance's baby. Our families gave their blessing—we're marrying next month. You should come!"

Clara saw the smug gleam in Lance's eyes. She forced a smile. "Congratulations. I'll be busy resting for the baby."

Lance's face darkened. "Parading that bastard child like it's some prize? You've got no shame."

Clara's hands trembled, her face draining of color—when suddenly a strong hand claimed her shoulder.

"Sweetheart," came a velvet voice, "we agreed I'd come with you. This is my first time seeing our baby—you weren't going to start without me, were you?"

James' rich, velvety voice reached Clara's ears, causing her to turn sharply in surprise.

Why was he here? And how did he know about her pregnancy?

Before the shock could fully register, he'd already taken the medical records from her hands.

"Is this our little guy? So tiny already?" he beamed, his eyes alight with excitement.

The undisguised joy on James' face made Clara's heart flutter - she couldn't help feeling thrilled by his enthusiasm.

Seeing Lance and Isabella's stunned expressions, Clara realized James' timing couldn't have been more perfect.

She smiled shyly, "It might not be a boy..."

Picking up on her cue, James chuckled, "I'd love a little girl just as much."

Their affectionate exchange left the spectators completely stunned.

Isabella finally recognized James - she'd seen his photo in Forbes as the legendary CEO of Lancaster Group.

Never in their wildest dreams had they imagined Clara involved with such a powerful tycoon.

Watching Clara secure such a wealthy partner, Isabella's nails dug into her palms. Through clenched teeth, she spat:

"A friendly warning, sir - she was with another man last month. That baby might not even be yours - I have proof!"