"Stella York." Lucas Scott finally stepped forward, but instead of looking at the photo she was holding, he walked straight to her side and wrapped her in his arms.
He held her tightly, as if trying to meld her into his embrace.
His voice was hoarse, tinged with a touch of ruthlessness.
"I only need you, not necessarily a child."
"...What are you talking about?" Stella York's body stiffened, then attempted to push him away.
Lucas Scott held her tightly, and she couldn't push him away.
Stella York finally realized something was wrong with him, her facial expression turned pale.
"Did something happen? What did the doctor tell you? Lucas Scott, look at me, I'm fine, I'm doing well, our baby is doing well, look at it, it's healthy, the doctor said, as long as I can make it to seven months..."
"But you very possibly can't even make it past four months!" Lucas Scott interrupted her, his voice was hoarse as if it had been rubbed by rough stones.
