Chapter 365 It's Not Blood. It's Your Child
"Hospital," Isabella gasped weakly, repeating the word over and over.
She ignored whoever was holding her up and whatever they were saying.
She grabbed Lynda's wrist, pleading, "Save my baby."
Lynda glanced at the growing pool of blood beneath Isabella, a triumphant smile flashing in her eyes.
Hearing Isabella's desperate pleas, Lynda felt even more satisfied.
She had waited far too long for this day!
"Ms Wallace, don't worry, I'll call Sebastian right away," Lynda said, her eyes glistening as she pretended to be concerned. "How could there be so much blood? Isabella, you have to hang in there."
"It's you." Isabella's eyelashes fluttered, tears clinging to their tips. She vaguely recognized the familiar face in front of her, and the more she looked, the more it matched Lynda's.
She weakly moved her lips. "Lynda, it's you. You did this."
Isabella's words were not a question; they were a definitive statement.
Isabella felt a coldness envelop her entire body. A chill spread from the ground, seeping into the gaps in her bones.
"Isabella," Lynda said, helping Isabella up, "what do you mean? I saved you. Just now, a car almost hit you from behind."
"It was terrifying. If I hadn't pushed you, you'd be dead by now. I'm not as bad as you think, Isabella. You misunderstood me. Stop talking, save your strength."
Lynda remembered that Isabella hated it when she affectionately called her "Isabella," so she kept saying it to try to provoke her.
Isabella clutched her stomach, hunched over, and pushed Lynda away.
But Lynda seemed to anticipate this, and she pushed Isabella's waist in response.
Isabella stumbled forward a few steps and fell to the ground again.
Isabella clearly felt Lynda pushing her.
Everything was Lynda's design.
"Isabella." Lynda squatted beside her again, "I really want to help you. Please don't hate me so much. Your health matters."
Isabella was infuriated. She knew she shouldn't let Lynda provoke her, but how could there be such a disgusting person in the world?
Help her? What nonsense!
Isabella knew Lynda the best. Lynda wished she were dead, so how could she save her?
Isabella glared at Lynda, "Fuck off!"
Her voice was hoarse, like an old, broken flute.
Lynda looked at Isabella lightly, staring straight at her, unable to hide the satisfaction in her heart, and smiled slightly.
She leaned close to Isabella's ear and said, "Alright, let's stop pretending. Do you feel it? Your baby is about to die."
"Right, you can't see it," Lynda continued, "the ground is full of blood, your blood. No, it's not blood. It's your baby."
Isabella trembled; Lynda was like a venomous snake, hissing in her ear.
She hated Lynda to the core.
In all her years, Lynda was the first person to trample on her bottom line and make her want to kill.
"You better make sure I don't survive!" This low roar exhausted Isabella's last bit of strength, and her breathing grew weaker.
The stabbing pain in her abdomen intensified, and Isabella finally couldn't bear the weight, her heavy eyelids struggling to stay open.
But Isabella didn't dare close her eyes; she was terrified Lynda would pull something else.
A sense of helplessness wrapped around Isabella's chest, squeezing her heart, making her whole body ache.
Isabella forced her eyes wide open, her eyeballs slightly protruding, bloodshot lines covering them.
As her eyes widened to a certain extent, Isabella's pupils lost focus. She stared blankly in one direction, unmoving for a long time.
Fainting without closing her eyes—how deep was this hatred?
Lynda admired Isabella's twisted expression, feeling elated.
"Isabella, why aren't you talking?" Lynda closed Isabella's eyes, hiding her glee. Then she looked up and urgently asked the onlookers, "Could anyone please call an ambulance? Please."
Lynda squeezed out a few tears, her face full of urgency and concern, genuinely sincere.
"Don't worry, miss, the ambulance is on its way. Just hold on a bit longer," a kind person responded.
"Thank you so much." After thanking them, Lynda took out her phone and called Sebastian.
As soon as he answered, she cried, "Sebastian, Isabella is in trouble. Go straight to the hospital. The ambulance is here, and we're heading there now."
Sebastian received the call on the top floor of the Lawrence Group just as he was leaving the conference room.
Before answering, he thought it was Lynda having a problem and never expected the call to be about Isabella.
His face darkened, showing a cold and severe expression as if a storm was about to break.
He gripped his phone tightly, his hand turning white, veins bulging on the back of his hand, and the muscles under his shirt taut and strained in the sunlight.
It was clear how tense Sebastian's mental state was.
"Mr. Lawrence, I just got word from Willowbrook Estate that Mrs. Lawrence will be here soon," Kaine reported.
Sebastian put away his phone, pushed Kaine aside, and strode out.
After a couple of steps, he broke into a run.
What happened to Isabella? Why was she in trouble?
He had just returned to Maple Valley, lay with her for a while, and hadn't had the chance to hold her properly or kiss her.
How did she end up in the hospital?
Isabella would be fine; she would be safe and sound.
Kaine stared blankly at Sebastian's back. What on earth had happened?
Sebastian reached the underground garage as quickly as possible.
Seconds later, a black car sped out of the garage.
The car moved at an incredible speed, running countless red lights like a lurking leopard, leaving only a blur as it passed.
At the hospital entrance, Sebastian stopped the car, the screeching brakes echoing in the air.
Just as he opened the door to get out, an ambulance stopped at the hospital entrance, blocking his view.
Then, Sebastian saw Isabella's familiar face on the stretcher.
This morning, Isabella's sleeping face had been so serene, but now she was pale and fragile, like a piece of fragile glass.
Her hair and clothes were messy, and her pants had large, hardened red-brown stains—it was blood.
A cold chill ran down Sebastian's spine, and intense fear gripped his heart.
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