Brag stood in the doorway, his gaze icy as he locked eyes with his wife, Cassia, sprawled on the bed.
"If you don't wanna die yet, then tell me where you and he were always spending your romantic days together."
His voice dripped with mockery, laced with a sinister edge, as he narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip around her neck, squeezing just enough to restrict her breath.
Cassia gasped, tears streaming down her face. "I... I gave you all the places we went," she managed to croak, her voice barely a whisper.
"Where else?" he pressed, his expression darkening. "And during winter? Where do you travel?"
"Out of the country... different places," she choked out, panic rising as her vision blurred.
Suddenly, he released her, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face as new information about Zanier surfaced in his mind. "And which country does he love to visit?"
"The States," Cassia replied, coughing as she struggled to regain her breath.
Brag's eyes narrowed, and a predatory glare locked on her.
"If you dare lie to me, you're as good as gone, woman." His tone was ice-cold, though he recognized her value.
"Though I still need her alive," he thought, his expression hardening as he scrutinized her trembling form.
Meanwhile, Zanier held Bae's hand, their connection almost a lifeline amid the chaos. Disguised in a black face mask, a cap pulled low, and a silver ring glinting against the darkness of his hoodie and sweatpants, he moved stealthily through the airport.
Bae, clad in comfortable sweatpants and a loose sweatshirt, her baby bump subtly visible, stayed close to him.
As they walked through the bustling airport, Bae's eyes darted around, absorbing the vibrant surroundings. She spotted a large poster that read,
"Welcome to Canada." Although the words were still somewhat foreign to her, she recognized some letters, thanks to Jane, the maid Zanier had tasked with teaching her to read and write. A sense of pride swelled within her; each new word was a small victory.
Reaching their destination, Bae leaned against Zanier and fell asleep against his shoulder, her breath warm and gentle. Zanier glanced down at her peaceful face, a softness washing over him.
"Perhaps my love for quietness?" he mused, relishing the calm that surrounded them.
He carefully picked her up, cradling her in his arms as he headed to their temporary accommodation.
His gaze lingered on her baby bump, a strange blend of anticipation and wonder swelling in his chest at the thought of their child.
A month passed in the chill of the Canadian winter, during which Zanier worked from home.
Bae's health began to wane; the cold seemed to seep into her bones, exacerbating her anemia.
Zanier found his caring nature puzzling. Was it truly concern for her well-being, or merely the instinct to protect his heir?
"I guess I'm caring because of my child," he thought, gazing out the window.
He watched as Bae sat in a rocking chair, cradling her baby bump with a radiant smile, seemingly lost in her own world. Her lips moved as if she were singing or talking to the baby.
A faint smile crept onto Zanier's face; her whimsical behavior, once puzzling, now slowly endeared to him.
Just then, Michael entered, a slight hesitation in his step as he awaited Zanier's approval.
"Go on, what did he say?" Zanier asked, his tone sharp, eyes fixed on Michael.
"He said, 'How long are you planning on hiding? I need to see my grandson and also witness you ascend to your rightful position before my time runs out." Michael's voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of urgency.
"And I think that time is sooner than you think," Michael added, quoting Frankfort's ominous words.
Zanier's expression hardened as he processed his grandfather's message. His gaze drifted to Bae, who was seated nearby, seemingly lost in conversation with her baby bump.
She hummed softly, a light smile gracing her lips. A maid approached her, gently assisting her to her feet. Their eyes met, and Bae's smile widened as she waved, her enthusiasm brightening the dim room.
"Tell him it'll be sooner than he expects," Zanier replied, his voice cold, steeling himself against the weight of impending responsibilities.
He turned back to Michael, a sense of foreboding settling in his gut. Brag was clearly up to something dangerous.
"Yes, sir," Michael responded, the gravity of the situation evident in his tone.
Zanier watched Michael leave with a detached gaze, his mind lingering on Brag and the chaos that seemed to follow him.
He felt a gnawing unease about what Brag was planning,
Just then, Bae entered the room, her steps quick and light as she approached him, a burst of energy that made the air feel alive.
Her maid turned back to give them space, leaving the two of them alone.
"The baby is moving!" Bae exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
She grabbed Zanier's hands and placed them on her bump, her joy infectious.
Zanier pressed his palm against her belly, feeling a gentle thumping beneath the surface.
"Good job," he said, his voice cool and detached, his praise lacking warmth.
He let his fingers brush her cheek, tracing the curve of her lower lip.
"Doesn't it hurt?" he asked, genuinely curious about the sensation of the baby kicking.
Bae blushed, a shy smile spreading across her face as she nodded. There was a light in her eyes whenever he inquired about her well-being, a flicker of happiness that warmed his cold demeanor.
In a sudden surge of emotion, he leaned in, capturing her lips with his. Their bodies pressed together, her baby bump meeting his abdomen.
For a moment, he allowed himself to immerse in the pleasure of the kiss, forgetting his conflicting feelings and objectives.
As their kiss deepened, he felt a sharp kick against his palm, causing Bae to flinch.
He pulled away, staring at her belly with a cold intensity, wondering about the little life growing inside her.
"Nice uncle. Go on, touch it," Bae urged, grabbing his wrist and guiding his hand back to her stomach just as the baby kicked again.
"Ouch!" she gasped, her eyes wide as she looked up at him, the pain evident on her face.
Zanier withdrew his hand, realizing that the baby seemed to respond to his touch with unexpected vigor.
"You need to rest," he said gently, lifting her effortlessly into his arms and carrying her to the bed.
He struggled against his desire, finding her irresistibly attractive—her long lashes framing her hazel eyes, her waist-length, silky curls cascading around her shoulders.