CLARA’S POV Violent coughs tore through me, leaving me weaker with each passing second. I rolled onto my side, tears streaming down my face as sobs shook my body. I had screamed for hours, but the gag muffled every sound. Eventually, exhaustion took over. Now, all I could do was cry for myself, for my baby. I hadn’t eaten or had a sip of water in hours. My head swam, my throat raw and dry. I swallowed, but there was nothing left. The door creaked open. I lifted my head just enough to see him—wearing the same mask, the same smug smirk. Hatred twisted in my chest. “Oh, Clara,” he cooed, crouching beside me. He pushed my hair from my face with mock tenderness. “Is your baby okay? Can you feel it?” I couldn’t answer, not with the gag still in place. Realizing that, he leaned in and yanked it down. “Go on,” he murmured. “Let’s hear that sweet, sultry voice of yours.” “You’re a coward,” I rasped, my throat burning. My glare was sharp, even as my body trembled. “Why else wo
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