Chapter 8

Chapter 8 The Child Died

He will have nothing to do with this woman. If I cut ties with her, I can cut the boy’s ties to her filthy family. She risked her life to give birth to the child, and I shall take it from her. This is redemption for her mother’s sin. I call it… mercy. He then left, the air turning colder than ever.

About fifteen minutes later, Celia slowly opened her eyes, tears of despair trickling down her cheek. She held up her arm and caressed her belly. Even though she could feel a slight bump, she knew Hugo must’ve taken the baby from her. She let out a cry of sorrow.

A nurse rushed in only to see her sitting up and crying hysterically. Two more nurses quickly came in and held her down. “Miss Stuart, you can’t move yet. You can’t leave the bed.”

“My baby! Where’s my baby? Where is he?” Celia roared, her eyes red.

The nurses exchanged a look. Five minutes ago, they just received orders for a special task. Even though they pitied Celia, they couldn’t tell her where the baby was. The nurses gave her looks of pity. “You should rest, Miss Stuart.”

Celia’s heart broke into a thousand pieces and something in her soul shattered. That answer alone was enough to tell her that the child was gone. It couldn’t have survived under those circumstances. That murderer. That animal. He killed his own child! I hate him. Why didn’t he kill me as well? Why did he save me? The will to live left her, and she broke down. She wished to die and go to where the child was. She couldn’t leave it to walk the path to the afterlife alone.

She tried to pull the IV infusion out, shouting, “Let me die! I want to be with my child!”

“Call someone,” a nurse said, holding her down. Her colleague quickly left to make the call.

Just when the nurse was about to lose her grip on the despairing Celia, someone opened the door, but it was not a doctor. Instead, it was Hugo, looking dark. He looked at the despairing Celia and noticed the blood trickling from the hole where the needle of the IV infusion should be. His eyes were bereft of any emotion.

“I’ll kill you, Hugo! I’ll kill you!” Celia struggled to break free, searching for a weapon to kill Hugo with.

“Let her go,” Hugo said.

The nurse let her go, and she screamed and shouted, trying to get out of bed, but her surgery took too much out of her and she couldn’t even lift her leg.

Hugo narrowed his eyes. He was already standing by the bed, and he held her down. “That’s enough!” he growled.

Celia was shivering with fury, the intent to kill overtaking her mind. When she saw the needle beside the nurse, she picked it up and slammed it down on the back of Hugo’s hand, then pulled it out and slammed it back down again. She repeated this action many times. Blood trickled from the many wounds on Hugo’s hand, and the shock made her throw the needle away. Then she clutched her chest and swam in her agony.

The needles had almost pierced through the flesh on Hugo’s hand, and he inhaled sharply. He pulled out a few tissues to stop the bleeding and said coldly, “That child’s death is repayment for your mother’s sins. From now on, we’re even.”

Celia looked at him, hatred filling her eyes. She would never forgive him. “Even? You think I’ll forgive you? That was your child you killed, you monster!” she roared.

Hugo still looked at her coldly, as if the child meant nothing to him. “That child was not supposed to exist. None of this would’ve happened if you’d just aborted it. It wouldn’t even have felt any pain,” he mocked.

Celia started hyperventilating and almost fainted. Panicked, she tried to hold something, and Hugo extended his hand, but instead, Celia held the edge of the bed, looking like a dying patient. She was breathing as hard as she could and looked so frail.

A hint of pity flashed in Hugo’s eyes, but it disappeared right away. “If you want to avenge his death, then live. Live while you carry that hatred. Your death will bring nothing but joy to me,” said Hugo.

The statement breathed new life into Celia, though it was a life created by hatred, and she roared, “You’re not getting that satisfaction, Spencer! You killed my son, and you think you can kill me too? You wish! I’m going to live!”

Imperceptibly, Hugo heaved a sigh of relief.

Something within Celia stirred and she coughed violently, losing what little strength she had left. Hugo’s tone remained cold. “If you die, I’ll give you a proper burial. After all, you’ve been a good f*ckbuddy.”

“I won’t die. Now f*ck off. Don’t let me see you ever again!” Celia roared. This man is a demon.

A moment later, the door closed. Hugo was gone. Celia lay on her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her face was as pale as a sheet, and now agony was finally sinking into her heart. She would rather die with her child. There was nothing left for her to live for, but then the memory of Hugo snapped her out of it. I can’t die. I need to live. I need to see him suffer. Karma’s going to bite him in the *ss eventually. He’s going to suffer.

On the other side of the hospital, Hugo was staring at the incubator. The sight of the frail little baby made his heart ache. The needle was pierced into the baby’s thin skin, and he looked malnourished. Pity and sympathy bubbled inside Hugo, as well as regret and self-blame flared. He looked at the baby tenderly and whispered a promise. “No matter what happens, I won’t let you down.”

A doctor came into the ward, and Celia told him she wanted her child’s corpse. She wanted to bury it, but the doctor told her that Hugo had taken the corpse away for burial.

Celia cried. Will he really give the baby a burial? Someone like him? The baby would be lucky he didn’t toss it into the dumpster. Her hatred for him mounted even more. She couldn’t think of anyone she hated more in her life.