Page 80 of Lords of Ruin: Cherished

My eyes dart between them, my pulse roaring in my ears. “What… what baby?”

Damien exhales and nods at Vincent. “Tell her.”

Vincent swallows hard. “Willow… you’re pregnant.”

I stare at them, my breath stalling. My hand moves to my stomach on instinct, pressing against the hospital gown, against the still-flat plane of my belly.

A baby.Mybaby.

The tears spill faster, but this time, I don’t know what I’m crying for. Relief? Fear? Hope?

“I…” My voice shakes. “I’m?—”

The door swings open again, and a woman in a white coat steps inside, her presence instantly commanding the room. She’s tall, with sharp brown eyes and dark hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. A stethoscope hangs around her neck, and her expression is both professional and kind.

“Willow,” she greets, stepping closer to my bed. “I’m Dr. Patel. I’ve been overseeing your case.”

I swallow, my throat still raw. “My… case?”

She nods, pulling a chair closer and settling into it. “You’ve been on ECMO since the accident. The machine is pumping your blood for you, oxygenating it and giving your heart time to rest.” She glances at the monitors beside me. “But ECMO is not a long-term solution. You need a new heartas soon as possible.”

A new heart.Again.

The weight of it presses against my ribs. The room feels too small, the walls closing in. My fingers curl into the blanket, gripping it tight.

“How long do I have?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Dr. Patel exhales. “I would say you have three days before serious complications, but we’re actively looking for a donor. Right now, the machine is doing its job, but the longer you stay on it, the higher the risks. Infection. Organ failure.” She pauses. “We need to move quickly.”

I force a breath into my lungs, steadying myself. My fingers tremble as I press them against my stomach. “And… the baby?”

Dr. Patel’s lips press into a thin line. “Willow…” She hesitates, then continues. “Pregnancy under normal conditions is already demanding on the heart. But with your condition, it’s incredibly dangerous. The extra strain on your cardiovascular system, especially with ECMO, puts you at an extremely high risk of heart failure.”

The air in my lungs turns thick and unsteady. I shake my head, gripping my stomach as if I can somehow shield the life inside me from her next words.

She exhales. “I strongly recommend termination. Carrying this pregnancy while waiting for a transplant—whileundergoinga transplant—is a life-threatening risk for both you and the baby.”

A sharp, painful silence falls over the room. The guys stiffen.

Vincent’s hand curls into a fist, his knuckles going white. “Then it’s not even a question,” he says, his voice sharp, final. “You need the surgery. The baby can’t survive that.Youmight not survive that. We’re not risking you, Willow.”

Cast exhales slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. When he looks at me, his green eyes are unreadable, but there’s something cold, calculated, in them. “Vincent’s right.” His voice is eerily calm. “There’s only oneyou.We can have more kids, but we can’t replace you.”

My stomach drops. A sharp, burning panic grips my chest. “You want me to—” My breath shudders. “You want me to get rid ofour baby?”

Vincent’s jaw tightens. “We want youalive.”

Tears sting my eyes, and I shake my head violently. “No.” My voice cracks, but I force it out, steady, unwavering. “No. I’mkeepingthis baby.”

Damien steps forward then, the tension in his body easing just slightly. “If that’s what she wants,” he says, his voice firm but calm, “then that’s the decision. We back her.”

Vincent spins on him. “Damien, bereasonable.If she goes through with this, she coulddie.You know that, right? This isn’t some small risk, it’s?—”

“I know,” Damien cuts him off, his expression hard. “Iknowwhat the risks are. But it’sherchoice, not ours.”

A heavy silence falls over the room. Cast looks away, jaw clenched, his hands on his hips like he’s trying to hold himself together. Vincent stares at me, betrayal flickering in his blue eyes, like hecan’tunderstand how I could do this.

My hands press protectively over my stomach.

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