Chapter 791: The Fetal Movement
Theodore found Oscar leaning against the wall, tears streaming down his face. Theodore swallowed, the unspoken words a testament to the pain Oscar's actions had caused Hannah. Outsiders saw only ruthlessness; they couldn't see the deep hurt within him. He sighed softly. "I'll send for the doctor to check your tongue."
Theodore left, perhaps hoping to give Oscar space to compose himself. In the ward, guards still restrained Hannah for her IV. Manuel could only watch silently.
"Manuel," Hannah said, calm now, watching the IV drip, "Do you think there's still a chance for Oscar and me?"
"I think you both need to cool down," Manuel replied.
Oscar's fear of losing Hannah bordered on obsession; Hannah's desire to leave him was equally fervent. Their escalating conflict would only deepen their wounds unless they compromised. A cold smile played on Hannah's lips, tears welling. It felt utterly pathetic.
Hannah endured three IVs daily, under constant surveillance. Oscar visited frequently—sometimes finding her asleep, sometimes during an IV, sometimes during prenatal care. Her unstable health affected the baby, leading to frequent checkups.
The doctor performed a color ultrasound. A baby, over twenty weeks along, was clearly visible, its form developing. But Hannah couldn't bring herself to look, closing her eyes and listening to the doctor's pronouncements.
Oscar entered, watching the skillful ultrasound. The doctor rose respectfully, but Oscar gestured for him to continue.
"What's this?" Oscar asked, his voice deep and hoarse.
"The baby's arm," the doctor replied. "See the fingers? It's too small to see much detail yet."
Oscar nodded, staring. Their child. Unbelievable. The sheer fragility of it, all it had already endured, broke his heart.
"And this is the baby's face, Commander," the doctor said, adjusting the angle.
Oscar gazed. A surprisingly ugly little face, eliciting an involuntary smile.
"And here's the heartbeat, Commander. Listen."
A strong heartbeat filled the room, bringing Hannah to the verge of tears. For the first time, she felt the baby's strength, its tenacious hold on life after all these months. She choked back sobs, shielding her eyes.
Oscar, too, was moved, his own tears welling, but he forced composure. He filmed the heartbeat on his phone, a precious memory should "she" be lost.
The strong heartbeat echoed. The doctor concluded, "Commander, the baby is fine."
Oscar nodded silently.
While the nurse cleaned Hannah, Oscar dismissed her, using a warm towel to finish the task. They’d had little time together since the pregnancy, this being the first close encounter with the baby. He traced the curve of Hannah's belly.
He placed his hand gently on the bump. Hannah opened her eyes, seeing Oscar's loving gaze. She looked away, wanting to push him off, when the baby kicked—directly into his hand. Astonished, Oscar looked back at Hannah. "It kicked! It kicked!"
Hannah pursed her lips. The baby had kicked frequently, but she'd dismissed it.
"I want to walk," she said.
Oscar longed to touch the baby again, the kick forging an instant connection, his heart quickening. He carefully covered her belly. He offered to help her up, but she avoided his hand, forcing him to withdraw, embarrassed. Max stepped in to assist.
"When did you first feel it?" Oscar asked softly, careful of his tongue.
"Around sixteen weeks ago," Hannah replied lightly, "when you sent me to Melvin's."
Oscar clenched his fists. He'd missed precious moments.
"I want to walk outside," Hannah said, seeking—and receiving—his permission.
"Thanks," she murmured.
The distance she maintained broke his heart.
Hannah left the ward, weak but determined to escape his immediate presence. Max and six bodyguards followed, effectively thwarting any escape.
Exiting the ward, she heard footsteps. A woman approached, accompanied by several men. Though she hadn't met Lilian Collins in person, and the light was dim, Hannah was certain of her identity.