Bound by Betrayal (The Mafia King Captive Bride)

My back ached as I stirred around, stretching my hand. I yawned, and suddenly, a voice beside me exclaimed, startling me. “Ma’am, thank God, you’ve woken up!”

I jerked my head up abruptly, and instantly regretted it as a sharp throb pulsed through my head. “Ahh…” I winced, clutching my throbbing head before glancing up to find Aurora smiling gently at me.

“Aurora,”

“Good morning, ma’am,” she greeted and extended a cup toward me, “This is chamomile,” she smiled, but I simply stared at her in confusion.

“What for?”

“This is a herbal tea, it will help reduce your headache,” she said softly, handing me the cup. I nodded, took a sip of the tea, and then glanced back at her, “Thank you,” I murmured.

Grinning, she nervously scratched her neck, “You’re welcome, but I wasn’t the one that prepared it,” noticing my confused arched brow, she confessed, “It was sir, Damien.”Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

Damien?

And just like that, a flicker of memory darted through my thoughts, a hazy recollection of yesterday. My spoiled car on the road, meeting up with Sebastian, and then collapsing into the comforting embrace of Damien.

My gaze widened at the realization, I came back drunk last night, and Damien…. I swallowed and instantly looked around, noticing that I was in his room, sprawled on his bed and my dress.

Wait, my clothes?

I peeked down, realizing that I was wearing his oversized shirt. Blushing, I immediately looked away, and that’s when my gaze fell on those pictures of his ex on the wall. A surge of anger and pain flashed back in my eyes instantly.

I don’t hate her because I don’t know her but somehow I didn’t like her either. Even after years, he still leaves her a picture of them together in his room.

“You might be dead, Zuri, but it is obvious that your memories with him haven’t disappeared,” I thought, smiling sadly as I continued to look at the picture on the wall.

“He must really love her so much,”

“Ma’am, do you need anything else?” Aurora asked, gently tapping my shoulder to bring me back to the present.

Shaking my head, I pushed the memories away and asked instead. “Where is he?”

“Mr. Damien has left for work,”

I nodded, yawning, and then suddenly pain shot back in my head. Groaning, I held my head, and Aurora rushed by my side immediately. “Are you okay, ma’am?”

“What time is it?” I asked, rubbing my scalp.

“Is 11:30 am,”

“WHAT?” I gasped, snapping my head in her direction. I hadn’t slept like this before even when I did get drunk back then.

How come? Ah…. I grabbed my tummy. My stomach feels uncomfortable, and I feel unusually weak. “Maybe it is because of the alcohol,” I guessed, but just then I started feeling nauseous.

“What is happening?” I muttered, tightening my grip around my tummy, and squeezing the shirt.

“Are you having an upset stomach, ma’am,”

Aurora asked, but before I could respond, I suddenly had this urge to puke. And before I knew it, I rushed out of the bed, hurrying toward the restroom. I opened the door and vomited right inside the washing basin, emptying everything in my stomach.

“Hmmm….” I breathe heavily, my heart pounding faster as I turn on the tap.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” Aurora rushed inside, touching my neck. “You are burning up, ma’am, I think you need to see a doctor,”

Washing my mouth, I flashed her a forced smile, “I am fine, it’s just because I drank too much last night,” I said, unsure of my own words.

My body temperature is high, and my body feels somehow this morning.

“No, ma’am, I think you have a fever,” she was quick to protest, shaking her head at me.

However, after an unending argument about whether I should go to the hospital or not, I finally accepted. “Fine,” I muttered, stepping out of the bathroom and heading inside.

“I will go and get your food ready,” she turned to leave, but my next word stopped her in her tracks. “I am not hungry,”

“But ma’am, you just……”

“Go tell the driver to get ready, we’ll be leaving very soon,” I remarked, flopping down on the bed.

“Okay, ma’am,” with that said, she left the room.

Feeling exhausted, I massaged my temples and switched up my phone… 25 missed calls from Mason and 12 new messages. I sighed tiredly and tapped on the messages.

Mason: /”Are you still in your car?”/

Mason: /”Have you reached out to your driver, or should I swing by and drive you home?”/

These are yesterday’s messages, I let out a sigh and began scrolling to the last message.

Mason: /”Unfortunately, your dad won’t be discharged today. If you can stop by so we can discuss his health issue.”/

What is wrong with father? Closing my eyes I puffed out a deep breath before opening them again.

“Okay, I’ll be there soon,” I messaged him immediately, switched off my phone, and tiredly tossed it aside.

I feel so drained and exhausted, like I’ve been through the wringer this morning. Even with all the drinking I’ve done before, my body has never hit me like this.

Why do I have this nagging feeling that something is about to happen?

*** ***

I was seated in the hospital, waiting for the doctor. They’ve taken my blood sample and urine for tests. The driver brought me to the Albrecht’s family doctor. A few minutes have passed, yet I still feel weak, and my heart stings uncomfortably.

Mason had been blowing up my phone and calling me over five times, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. I don’t have the energy to chat right now, and honestly, I don’t want him to find out that I’m in the hospital.

Still lost in my thoughts, the door swung open, and in walked the doctor, with a file in her hand. She’s a young woman, probably in her early thirties, Miss Jessica.

“Hello, darling,” she greeted me with a calm smile, taking a seat in front of me. Sliding her chair closer, she adjusted her glasses.

“Is there an issue, doc?” I inquired, going straight to the point. I am definitely not here to exchange pleasantries, I instantly feel sudden fear inside me. The feeling from the morning still lingers around me.

Laughing, she waved it off, “It’s good news, sweetheart,”

Good news…… how?

My heart raced harder and faster as I watched her go over my chart again like she was double-checking the information.

“There were traces of HCG in your urine, sweetheart,”

Scratching my neck, I stared at her confusedly, “What does that mean?”

Brushing her hair strand behind her ear, she leaned back with her arms folded across her chest, looking at me with a warm smile. “You’re pregnant,”