Chpater 2: Time of Death

Chpater 2: Time of Death

Her hands clenched into fists as tears slid down her cheeks. She had lost everything—but she wasn’t going down without a fight.

She stood frozen, her hand trembling as it rested over her stomach. The weight of the truth slowly sank in, her thoughts a whirlwind of disbelief. A child… Her child.

Her mind drifted back to that night—the warmth, the tenderness that Lowe had shown her, even if just for a fleeting moment. But it felt like a distant memory now, like something that belonged to another time, another life. Since then, she hadn't seen him. He must hate her now. The thought twisted in her gut. How could he not? To him, she was nothing more than the woman who had killed his mother, the woman who had betrayed him, who drugged him and climbed into his bed for her own selfish reasons. And now, standing on the brink of despair, sentenced to death for a crime she didn't commit, the child she carried felt like a cruel twist of fate.

But despite the bitterness that coursed through her veins, there was something else, something deeper. The life growing inside her sparked a glimmer of hope, a stubborn, unwavering belief that she couldn’t give up. Not now.

Mila grasped the doctor’s arm, her voice shaky with desperation. “Please... tell Lowe I need to see him,” she begged, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

The doctor hesitated, brow furrowing as she watched Mila with concern. “Mila, I don’t know…”

“I need him to know,” Mila continued, her voice barely above a whisper, her grip tightening as if she could will the doctor to understand her plea. “This child... it’s his. He has a right to know.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but her voice remained steady. “Please... I didn’t kill his mother. I didn’t do it. I need to clear my name. My child can't grow up with the world believing its mother is a murderer.”

The doctor sighed, her resolve softening under the weight of Mila's pleading. “I’ll deliver the message, but... I can’t promise he’ll come.”

Hope flickered in Mila’s eyes. “Thank you.”

---

Sterling Inc Headquarters: CEO’s Office

Lowe sat in the shadows of his office, the only light spilling in from the cityscape outside. His fingers traced the edge of a small red box on his desk, the diamond ring inside reflecting the cold light. It was a symbol of a past he wanted to erase, a reminder of a time when things had been different, before everything had fallen apart. His sharp profile, silhouetted in the dim light, was devoid of warmth.

Mark, his assistant, stood nervously before him. “Sir,” he said hesitantly, “there’s a message from the prison... Miss Mila wants to see you.”

Lowe’s hand stilled, his jaw tightening as his eyes narrowed. “Didn’t I tell you never to mention her name to me again?” he snapped, his voice icy and venomous.

Mark swallowed hard, lowering his head in apology. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

There was a pause before Mark cautiously added, “Should I book her down for later, though? Perhaps... perhaps it might be good to see her one last time—”

Lowe’s voice cut through the room like a sharp blade. “Don’t. The answer is no.” His anger burned with the force of a wildfire, palpable in the air.

“If you don’t have anything else of importance to say…”

Mark bowed low and retreated from the office, but not before he noticed the anguish lurking behind Lowe’s bitter words. He understood why the mere mention of Mila would elicit such venom from Lowe—the accident, the betrayal, the drugs, the lies... all of it had left a wound so deep that it could never heal.

When the door clicked shut, Lowe’s gaze fell once more on the ring. His mind flashed with memories of Mila—her delicate fingers, her bright smile, the way she had once held onto him like he was her everything. Now, all of that felt like a cruel manipulation.

With disgust, Lowe picked up the ring, threw it into the trash, and slammed the drawer shut. It was as if he could rid himself of her completely, as if throwing the ring away could erase every trace of her from his life.

---

The doctor returned to Mila with a grim expression, her lips pressing into a thin line. “He said no.”

The words struck Mila like a physical blow, her legs buckling as she stumbled back. Her vision blurred with tears as her voice cracked with heart-wrenching desperation. “Why won’t he believe me? I didn’t do it… I didn’t…”

Her grief consumed her as she collapsed to the floor, clutching her head in agony. But even as her world crumbled around her, she knew she couldn’t give up. Not now.

---

Ten Months Later

Her labour was here. Mila was rushed into the operating room, pain wracked her body as blood poured from her. Her breathing grew shallow, but she clung to consciousness with one desperate thought: her child.

“The baby’s deprived of oxygen,” the doctor warned. “It's chances of survival are slim.”

Through her agony, Mila grasped the doctor’s hand with what little strength she had left. Her tears mixed with the sweat on her pale face as she begged, “Please… save my baby. I’ll do anything. Just save my child.”

The doctor hesitated. It was hard to reconcile this desperate, broken woman with the image of a murderer painted by the media.

Suddenly, a rush of blood signaled the final stages of labor. The room erupted in urgency. “The placenta has detached!” shouted a nurse.

“Prepare for heavy bleeding!”

“The baby’s out! It’s twins—a boy and a girl!”

But joy was short-lived. The boy had been without oxygen too long and was unresponsive. Moments later, Mila’s heart stopped.

“Defibrillator, now!” a doctor barked.

Amidst the chaos, only the girl’s faint cries filled the room.The baby boy couldn't make it. 

And after several failed attempts to revive Mila, the doctor declared, “Time of death: 11:42 PM.”