[Carmela's POV]
I woke up feeling drained. My head throbbed and every inch of my body ached.
"Madam, you are awake," my maid whispered with concern.
"Leave," I muttered coldly. When she hesitated, I snapped, "Leave, Bathma!" She fled the room in a flurry.
After half an hour of gathering my strength, I dressed in loose trousers, a white blouse, and sandals that made me stand a little taller. As I headed for the garage, the steward blocked my path.
"I'm sorry, madam. Directive from Mr. Banks—you're not allowed to use any of the cars."
I pressed my car keys into his palm. "Then keep them."
I walked out of the compound and hailed a taxi.
"Madam, are you okay?" the driver asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
"No," I whispered. "Can I sit here a little longer?" His hesitation was obvious, so I added, "I'll pay extra."
For an hour, I wept silently in the backseat.
At the hospital, the doctor's words pierced me like knives. "Your mother is dying slowly. We don't have the equipment to treat her. She must be transferred to Shire Hills Hospital."
Before I could respond, my younger brother, Alex, appeared. "Sister, you're here. Why haven't you been attending classes? Your lecturer called me. And I know what's happening with the Banks family."
"Who told you that?" I asked, panic surging. But before he could reply, nausea overcame me. I ran to the washroom and retched a milky substance into the sink.
My hands trembled on the cold porcelain. I didn't need anyone to tell me—I already knew. I was pregnant.
A storm of emotions crashed inside me: fear, bitterness, but also a spark of hope. One thing was certain—I would not abort this child.