The days after discovering I was pregnant were filled with joy.
For the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe. Travis was behind bars, the past was finally behind me, and I was building a future with Preston.
Every morning, Preston would wake up before me, making sure I had breakfast ready and the house was filled with fresh flowers. It was almost comical how protective he had
become.
“Do you need water? Are you comfortable? Should I get another pillow?” he would ask, his brows furrowed with concern.
I’d laugh, shaking my head. “Preston, I’m fin
But I secretly loved it.
Travis, however, wasn’t ready to let go.
I’m pregnant, not fragile.”
Letters started arriving at the estate, each one begging to see me.
Zoe, I need to talk to you. Please. At least, see me? Forgive me.
I tore them up without reading further.
When he couldn’t reach me through letters, he sent messages through mutual acquaintances.
“Congratulations on the baby,” one said.
Another read, I know you hate me but maybe we could see each other. I miss you.
Each one made my stomach churn with anger. What does he want? I made it clear I didn’t want him anymore. I ignored them all, throwing each message away without a second thought.
Preston, as always, was by my side. He didn’t allow me to be alone for a moment, balancing his business with taking care of me.
At night, when the trauma crept in and the memories threatened to overwhelm me, he would hold me close, whispering softly until I fell asleep.
“You’re safe,” he’d say. “I’ve got you.”
And he always did.
At one of my doctor’s appointments, we finally got the news.
“It’s a boy,” the doctor said, smiling as she pointed to the screen.
I looked at Preston, tears welling in my eyes.
“A boy,” I whispered.
Preston grinned, his hand gripping mine tightly. “We’re having a son.”
We spent the rest of the day in a bubble of excitement, talking about names and what he might look like. Preston insisted he’d look just like me, while I teased that he’d probably inherit Preston’s stubbornness.
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由6.7%。
The following weekend, we went shopping for baby clothes,
The mall was bustling, filled with familles and couples, laughter echoing off the walls. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt normal.
We browsed through tiny onesies and baby shoes, laughing as Preston held up outfits and made exaggerated faces.
“This one,” he said, holding up a tiny blue shirt with Mommy’s Little Hero printed on it.
I chuckled. “You’re going to spoil him, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely,” Preston replied without hesitation.
We were so absorbed in our happiness that I didn’t notice the man lurking behind me until it was too late.
A hand grabbed my arm, yanking me backward with such force that I stumbled.
“Don’t scream,” a voice hissed in my ear.
I froze, my heart pounding as I realized what was happening. The man had a gun, and he was pulling me toward a corner of the store.
“Zoe!” Preston’s voice cut through the panic, but the man tightened his grip on me.
“Stay back!” the man shouted, waving the gun wildly.
Everything around me blurred–the shouts of people, the chaos of footsteps as shoppers scattered in every direction.
“Let her go,” Preston said.
“Stay back!” the man screamed again, his hand shaking as he pointed the gun at Preston.
I could feel my heart pounding in my ears, my breathing shallow and erratic.
And then, out of nowhere, there was a loud bang.
The sound of gunfire echoed through the store, and I felt the man’s grip loosen as he staggered backward.
Preston was on him in an instant, tackling him to the ground and wrestling the gun away.
“Run!” Preston shouted at me, but my legs felt rooted to the floor.
Another gunshot rang out, and I flinched, ducking instinctively.
By the time I looked up, Preston had subdued the man, pinning him to the ground as security rushed in.
But the relief was short–lived.
As I stood there, trembling, I felt something wet trickle down my leg.
I looked down, and my breath hitched.
Blood.
“Preston,” I whispered, panic rising in my chest.
He turned, his eyes widening as he saw the blood.
“No,” he said, his voice breaking as he rushed to my side.
Chapter 17
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I could feel my heart pounding in my ears, my breathing shallow and erratic
And then, out of nowhere, there was a loud bang.
The sound of gunfire echoed through the store, and I felt the man’s grip loosen as he staggered backward.
Preston was on him in an instant, tackling him to the ground and wrestling the gun away.
“Run!” Preston shouted at me, but my legs felt rooted to the floor.
Another gunshot rang out, and I flinched, ducking instinctively.
By the time I looked up, Preston had subdued the man, pinning him to the ground as security rushed in.
But the relief was short–lived.
As I stood there, trembling, I felt something wet trickle down my leg.
I looked down, and my breath hitched.
Blood.
“Preston,” I whispered, panic rising in my chest.
He turned, his eyes widening as he saw the blood.
“No,” he said, his voice breaking as he rushed to my side.
I tried to speak, to tell him I was fine, but the words wouldn’t come. My vision blurred, and the last thing I saw was Preston’s terrified face as I collapsed into his arms.
