Page 32 of Twisted Addiction
I sank into a cushioned chair, staring out at the dark expanse of water shimmering under the moonlight, the beach stretching below like a silver ribbon.
His words echoed in my mind:if I didn’t abort, I’d likely die.
The bleeding would continue, the hematoma growing, my malformed uterus unable to support the life inside me.
Carrying this child to term is absolutely impossible, according to the doctor. But what cuts even deeper than losing this pregnancy is the haunting thought that I may never bear a child—not now, not ever. That the chance to have my own child, to create life, may be gone forever.
The pain wasn’t just emotional; it was physical. It burned in my chest, a sharp tearing that made it hard to breathe, and pulsed in my temples like a heartbeat gone wrong.
I’d always cared about having a child—more than I’d ever admitted to anyone, even to myself. It wasn’t just a want; it was a need, a promise I’d quietly built my life around. A piece of my soul I’d always imagined passing on, shaping, nurturing.
Now, staring down the choice between my life and this pregnancy, I felt like I was drowning—caught between two impossible shores.
The thought of ending it ripped me apart, like I was being asked to amputate a part of myself. But the alternative—bleeding out, risking everything, leaving this world before I’d even had the chance to be a mother—terrified me just as much.
Why me? Why this? Why now, when I had nothing left but this dream?
Lost in my thoughts, I drifted down to the beach behind the mansion. The wind tangled in my hair, the sand cool and damp beneath my bare feet
The water lapped gently at my toes, grounding me as I stared into the endless sea, searching for answers it couldn’t give.
“Sad? Worried?” A familiar voice broke through my reverie, and I turned to see Giovanni limping toward me, his silhouette framed by the moonlight.
His bandaged legs moved with effort, but his expression was warm, almost teasing.
“Leave me,” I said, my voice flat, not in the mood for his games.
Instead, he took a step closer, his gaze drifting to the water. “He wants you to abort the child, doesn’t he?”
I stared at him, incredulous. “You’ve been eavesdropping?”
He chuckled, a low, easy sound, as he limped forward to stand beside me, the waves brushing his boots.
“My mother...” he began, eyes fixed on the dark horizon. “She had something similar. Not a bicornuate uterus—fibroids. Doctors told her pregnancy could kill her.” His voice softened, almost fond. “She was stubborn.”
He gave a small, rueful laugh, eyes distant as the tide whispered at our feet. “She went through with it anyway.”
I drew in a sharp breath, my gaze sliding to his profile. In the moonlight, the scars on his face didn’t look so harsh.
“Did she survive?”
“Yes.” He turned to me then, that faint, knowing glint flickering in his eyes.
“What?” I pressed, feeling something tighten in my chest. “Are you... are you saying I shouldn’t do it? That I should keep it?”
He shrugged, his gaze drifting back to the black shimmer of the water. “I’d like to see you holding a child someday,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “But not if it costs you your life. That’s too steep a price. Follow your heart, Penelope—but do it with your eyes open.”
“But I’ll die,” I whispered, the words tasting like ash.
He tilted his head, studying me, his expression unreadable. “Maybe,” he said at last, voice deliberate. “But maybe not. I have contacts back in Russia—medical scientists, the kind who work where most countries won’t even look. Their methods...” He gave a humorless laugh. “Experimental. Risky. Based on trial and error, nothing officially approved. But they’ve had breakthroughs with conditions like yours.”
I stared at him, stunned. “You’re saying there’s a chance?”
“If you’re willing to take it,” he said simply. “I could arrange something. But it won’t be safe, and it won’t be easy. You’d have to decide if the risk is worth it.”
“I’m all in,” I said, voice steady despite the jitter of hope flaring inside me.
He gave a wry, almost crooked smile. “Well, this’ll be the first time I’ve ever kept something from the boss.”
