"Three years ago, she had a miscarriage in the first month of her imprisonment. Her body's already damaged. This drug will help her stomach temporarily, but the side effects are severe. She might never be able to conceive again."
Boom!
The words detonated inside Helena's mind.
Miscarriage? Child?
Her body trembled violently. She lowered her head, both hands clutching her flat abdomen.
Was there really... a child here?
A child that belonged to her and Jackson?
Fragments of memory flashed before her eyes. During her first month in prison, she'd been wracked with unbearable pain in her lower abdomen, pain so sharp it nearly made her faint. Blood had poured from her body for days, but the prison guards only cast a few indifferent glances.
She had thought it was just her period, worsened by hunger and cold.
But now she understood.
It hadn't been her body failing her.
It had been her child—leaving her in blood and agony, alone in the dark.
And the man who sent her there—the man she once loved—had destroyed not only her life, but their unborn child as well!
Outside the ward, Helena's fingers dug into the wall until her nails tore, leaving streaks of blood and broken paint behind.