As the months slipped by, Bae found herself in the final stretch of her pregnancy, blissfully unaware of the shadows lurking behind her and Zanier.
It was now January 1st, a night illuminated by fireworks that painted the sky with bursts of color, while many celebrated the New Year with joy and laughter.
Bae, however, stood alone on the balcony, a hint of disappointment etched on her face as she gazed at the spectacle above.
"I wonder where Nice Uncle is," she mused, her heart heavy yet filled with a bittersweet warmth as she watched the brilliant explosions in the sky.
The cheers and laughter from the party afar echoed around her, contrasting sharply with her solitude.
"Do you wish Nice Uncle was here too?" she whispered to her baby, tenderly placing her hands on her belly, feeling the gentle movements within.
"Because I do," she added, a smile spreading across her lips as she rubbed her rounded stomach, seeking comfort in the connection they shared.
Suddenly, a sharp pang jolted through her, accompanied by a warm splash. Confusion turned to alarm as the reality of her condition hit her.
"No! Not yet!" she screamed, her voice piercing the night air, filled with both panic and pain. The warmth beneath her dress spread, and she realized she was in labor.
A maid, hearing her cries, rushed to her side, urgency etched on her face.
"Ma'am, please hang in there!" she urged, her voice steady despite the chaos that surrounded them.
Bae's breath quickened, the pain intensifying with each contraction, unlike anything she had ever experienced—even in the Frankford household, where tensions often ran high.
The sounds of the celebration faded into the background as her world narrowed to the rhythm of her labor, each wave of pain crashing over her like the fireworks outside.
She felt the grip of fear tighten around her heart, yet deep down, a fierce determination ignited within her.
This was the moment she had been waiting for, and she would face it head-on, no matter the darkness that loomed beyond.
As the maids hurried to gather the necessary items, Bae's breaths came in short gasps, the vibrant fireworks outside a stark reminder of the life that awaited her.
"I'll see you soon, my Baby," she whispered, clinging to the hope that the dawn would bring not just a new year, but a new beginning.
Upon arriving at the hospital, the frantic atmosphere enveloped Bae as nurses and doctors rushed around her.
The sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the faint sounds of distant alarms and hurried footsteps.
Bae's screams pierced through the chaos, her teeth gritted against the excruciating pain that surged through her like a relentless wave.
Rejecting painkillers out of fear, she felt as if she were on the brink of losing herself to the agony.
"Nice Uncle!" she cried out, her voice trembling with desperation as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Each contraction felt like a fiery knife, and she clutched at the sheets, overwhelmed by the fear and intensity of her experience.
Meanwhile, in the sleek, dark car, Zanier sat with an air of cold indifference, his gaze fixed outside the window as Micheal sped through the streets toward the hospital.
Beside him, his mother, Latina, fumed silently, her anger palpable. The tension in the car was thick, the air charged with unspoken words.
"At least inform me or Mae about your wellbeing. Is that too much to ask?" Latina's voice cut through the silence, her eyes narrowed as she regarded her son, who remained stoic and detached.
Zanier's expression didn't waver, his cool demeanor matching the frosty atmosphere between them.
The silence was deafening, heavy with the weight of their unresolved issues.
"Anyway, I can't stay angry. You have your reasons, I suppose," she continued, recognizing that her son often acted with purpose, even if it was obscured from view.
"Did you at least tell your grandfather you're here?" Latina pressed, recalling how Mathew her father had always doted on his grandson when he was a child.
"No," Zanier replied, his tone flat and unbothered.
"And why not?" she asked, frustration seeping into her voice as she turned to face him, exasperated by his nonchalance.
"I'm not in Canada for family visits," he answered, the finality in his voice matching the abrupt stop of the car as they arrived at the hospital.
As Latina stepped out of the car, she studied her son, realizing just how much he had changed.
The indifference in his posture and the coldness in his eyes felt like a chasm between them.
"I guess his father's death left a deeper scar than I presumed," she thought, following him into the bustling hospital.
They moved through the sterile hallways, the scent of antiseptic lingering in the air, punctuated by the sounds of distant beeping machines and hurried conversations.
Just then, they spotted Dr. Liana exiting her office, her expression brightening as she recognized them.
"Congratulations, sir! You have a healthy, bouncing baby boy!" Dr. Liana announced, her voice cheerful as she looked between Zanier and Latina.
Latina's eyes widened in shock. The news crashed over her like a wave. She hadn't known Bae was pregnant, let alone that she had given birth. The weight of unspoken truths pressed heavily on her chest.
"Are you serious, Liana?" Latina's voice trembled, her gaze darting to Zanier. His usual cold demeanor seemed to melt away, replaced by a flicker of something softer as he moved toward Bae's assigned room.
"Yes, ma'am. And I must say, he looks exactly like you," Liana added, a smile spreading across her face as she admired the child's features.
The baby didn't resemble Bae at all, a testament to Zanier's strong genes.
"Alright, ma'am, get some rest. I'll check in on her later," Liana said before walking away, her presence leaving behind a sense of warmth.
"God truly works miraculously," she thought, her smile lingering as she watched Zanier enter Bae's ward.
Meanwhile, Latina stood frozen in place, grappling with the sudden reality of becoming a grandmother. The revelation sent her thoughts spiraling.
"Zanier?" she repeated silently, still in disbelief.
The whirlwind of emotions—shock, confusion, and an unexpected sense of pride—washed over her as she processed the magnitude of the moment.
She rushed into the room to find Zanier standing by the cradle, his usual cold and indifferent expression fixed on the baby.
The soft glow of the overhead light illuminated the infant's delicate features, creating an ethereal aura around the small figure.
Latina's heart warmed as she noticed the baby, peacefully sleeping, gripping his father's index finger with surprising strength. The sight was tender, a stark contrast to Zanier's usual demeanor.
Her gaze then shifted to Bae, who lay in the hospital bed, her face contorted in slight distress as she slept. Latina frowned, concern etching lines on her forehead.
"So what now?" she asked Zanier, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her.
"Letting her go," he replied, his tone devoid of warmth as he regarded Bae, his business with her seemingly finished.
"Sending her back to that house is a death sentence for the poor girl," Latina countered, her eyes darting between Zanier and Bae.
Memories of Bae's vulnerability flickered in her mind, intensified by the stories of fear and danger that surrounded the Frankfort household.
"I'm not sending her there." Zanier's voice remained calm as he slowly extricated his finger from the baby's grasp.
"I'm sending her to the States"
Latina processed his words, a mixture of relief and confusion settling over her.
"Well, if that's the case, I'm fine with it. That's definitely a kind act, son." She turned her gaze back to Bae, now sleeping peacefully, her chest rising and falling gently.
"Hope she has better days from here on," Latina thought, a pang of sympathy filling her heart.
The recent news of her maid Lily's sudden disappearance from the Frankfort estate lingered in her mind, a grim reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows of bae's world.