Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ana
Desmond’s fingers dug into the soft skin of my neck. I could feel the heat radiating from his hand, a sharp contrast to the cold hospital sheets beneath me. My lungs burned as I struggled to draw in air, and I clawed at his wrist, trying to pull his hand away.
My eyes met his, and I saw a storm of hatred and confusion swirling in those dark depths.
"What do you want?" I managed to wheeze out, my voice sounding like gravel. "Why do you even care?”
He didn't let go immediately. Instead, he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my face. A dry, humorless laugh escaped his throat. It was a sound that made my skin crawl.
"So, you really are pregnant," he said, his voice dripping with venom. "You are carrying another man’s child, and yet you have the nerve to ask
