Chapter 20 Pregnancy
Her heart jumped.
“What are you doing here?” she asked sharply.
‘I knew it was a bad idea giving him my address. Now he thinks he can just drop by whenever he wants?’ she thought, frustrated.
Without answering, Lorenzo grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside, slamming the door behind him.
He didn’t let go of her. He dragged her into the living room and didn’t let go, then pulled her hard, her body crashing against his chest. His hand shot out, gripping her face and lifting it up to meet his eyes.
His voice came low and thunderous. “We’re not even divorced, Krystal. And you’re pregnant? With someone else’s child?” His eyes burned into her. “What the hell do you take me for?”
Krystal stared at him, stunned. ‘How the hell did this Cactus find out already? It hasn’t even been an hour since my hospital visit.’
She yanked her face, trying to break free. Her heartbeat quickened. ‘I’m obviously not pregnant. But he actually believed it. Whatever. Why should I explain myself to him? Isn’t he obsessed with Esther anyway?’
She turned her sharp eyes on him, twisting her body to break free from his grip. But the damn man wouldn’t let go.
"It doesn’t matter to you!" she snapped
Lorenzo’s jaw flexed as finally released her and looked around the room. His gaze landed on a paper lying open on the table. He snatched it and unfolded it quickly.
Her name was right there—Krystal Vale—on the pregnancy report, and a date was already set for the abortion.
His entire body tensed. His jaw clenched. He was seething—raging. She had never seen him this angry.
“Who’s the father?” he asked through gritted teeth, barely able to contain himself.
Krystal’s voice was calm but low, her patience thinning. “I told you, it doesn’t matter to you. I’m not asking anyone to be responsible for the child.”
“Then I’ll take the goddamn responsibility!” he barked.
She let out a bitter laugh, eyes shimmering with emotion. “Again! How many more girls are you going to be responsible for, Mr. Moretti?” she cried out.
The house fell into a thick, suffocating silence.
Krystal drew in a deep, trembling breath and steadied herself before speaking again. “I’m not giving birth. And I’m not going to beg anyone to be a father to my child or a husband to me.”
She walked to the door, opening it wide.
“Leave. Now.”
Lorenzo’s jaw clenched tight. He took a step closer. "Krystal—"
“From the moment you filed for divorce,” she cut him off coldly, “there was nothing left between us. You should leave me alone now.”
Her voice was icy. Final.
“Leave,” she repeated.
Lorenzo’s burning eyes dropped to the paper in his hand. Then, without a word, he crushed the paper in his fist and hurled it to the floor with a sharp snap. The sound echoed like a slap in the silence, and without looking back, he stormed out of the house.
The next day, Lorenzo barreled through the pristine corridors of Bristen Hospital. Spotting Damion, he didn’t slow down. In the middle of the hallway, he grabbed him by the collar, shoving him backward until his back slammed into the wall—and landed a brutal punch straight to his jaw.
Damion barely stumbled before retaliating, slamming Lorenzo off and landing a solid hit across his face.
“Are you out of your damn mind?” Damion gritted, shoving him off with force.
Lorenzo, already bruised and bleeding, advanced again like a man possessed. “Since your parents clearly didn’t teach you how to be a man, I’ll teach you myself.”
***
“I heard they both got hurt pretty bad. There was blood—everywhere,” a nurse whispered behind her hand.
“It got messy,” another said, wide-eyed. “So much commotion. Who would even dare to hit Mr. Cage? He owns this place.”
Krystal froze mid-step just outside Bristen’s entrance, overhearing the conversation. She had come to tell Damion she was quitting. Her job was done—Esther was treated, and now that the truth was out, she had no reason to stay.
“That other guy—he’s a rich businessman too, right?” one nurse whispered, eyes wide with curiosity. “Maybe they’re friends and just got into a friendly fight.”
“Are you delusional, Julia?” the other hissed, shooting her a sharp look. “Two guys bleeding like that doesn’t exactly scream ‘friendly fight,’ does it?”
Krystal’s heart dropped. She ran inside, heels echoing off the floor as she sprinted toward Damion’s office.
When she turned the corner, her breath caught.
Lorenzo was mid-punch, his face bruised and bloodied, slamming his fist into Damion’s jaw again. The VVIP floor was quiet—only a few doctors were around, and the patient rooms were too far to notice the chaos.
Without thinking, she rushed forward and shoved Lorenzo hard, placing herself between the two men.
"Stop it!" she shouted, breathless. Her voice rang through the empty corridor. "What the hell are you doing?"
Lorenzo froze mid-punch, inches from her face, chest heaving. He growled, fists shaking at his sides.
"You’re protecting him?" he barked. "Even after how he treated you?"
"You were my husband for two years," she fired back, fury crackling in her voice. "How did you treat me? Who the hell are you to judge anyone?"
He jabbed a finger at her. "So this is it? This is how you get back at me? This guy? He’s the one you picked?" His voice thundered as he pointed at Damion. "This asshole who can’t even care for his own child?"
Damion stiffened. His brows furrowed as he looked at Krystal. “My child? What child? What the hell is he talking about?”
Lorenzo went silent. His expression turned from rage to disbelief. Then he slowly turned toward her, his rage flaring into betrayal.
"He doesn’t even know ?" His voice cracked. "You’re getting an abortion, and he doesn’t even fucking know about it?"
“Lorenzo, shut up!” she shouted, shoving him back.
But he advanced again, grabbing her shoulders roughly.
"You need to come back to your fucking senses, Krystal!" he roared. "Don’t ruin your life over me or any other goddamn man, for fuck’s sake!”
Then he let go, breathing hard, eyes wild—and stormed out of the hospital without another word.
***
The Blue Orchid Bar was buzzing with music and chatter as always, but inside VIP Room 50, silence drowned everything. The lights were dim, a single bottle of whiskey almost empty.
Lorenzo sat slouched on the leather couch, glass in hand, downing whiskey like water. His eyes were bloodshot, his knuckles and face bruised, his jaw clenched tight.
He downed another drink, his voice low and wrecked.
“I thought I could take care of her,” he muttered, voice low and defeated. “Krystal. I thought I could handle it all. Keep everything under control. But this… this thing,” he spat the words like poison, “This fucked-up mess—I don’t even know how to fix it anymore."
"It’s not your fault," Michael said quietly, placing a hand on Lorenzo’s shoulder. "You can only blame Krystal for sleeping with—"
Before he could finish, Lorenzo grabbed Michael by the collar and yanked him forward, his eyes sharp with warning.
Michael immediately raised both hands. “Alright, alright—I won’t say anything bad about her.”
Lorenzo slowly let go and dropped back into his seat. A heavy, shuddering sigh escaped his chest.
“If two years ago I hadn’t…” his voice cracked. “If I hadn’t slept with Esther, maybe… maybe I’d be a father by now. Krystal and I would’ve had our own family. A real one.”
Just then, Larry walked in, smiling, completely oblivious to the heavy mood hanging in the air.
"What’s with the long faces, lads?" he asked with a laugh, heading to the couch.
Lorenzo didn’t even look at him. He grabbed another glass, filled it with whiskey, downed it in one go, and dropped it back on the table with a loud thud.
Michael shot Larry a warning glance. “Don’t talk.”
“What ‘don’t talk’?” Larry mocked Michael as he dropped down on the couch opposite Lorenzo. He slapped a hand on Lorenzo’s shoulder and grinned. “Aren’t you going to reward me?”
Lorenzo’s bloodshot eyes shifted toward him. His jaw tensed as he growled, “If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’ll hit you.”
Larry jerked back immediately. “What the hell, man? I really do have something worth rewarding!” He fumbled with his phone, scrolling quickly. "Didn’t you want to know who the woman was—the one who slept with you that night at the hotel? I finally recovered the footage.”
Lorenzo’s drunken gaze flicked to Larry. He put his whiskey glass down slowly, eyes narrowing. “Show me.”
“Now that’s the attitude I like,” Larry grinned, smug as ever. “Just remember, this took serious effort.” He slid the phone across the table and pressed play on a video—the surveillance footage from the hotel that night, the night Lorenzo had been drugged.
Lorenzo’s eyes burned into the screen. It showed only the back of a woman. But something about her—the way she moved, the curve of her shoulders, the long hair, the dress—pulled at him. His jaw clenched as he leaned in closer.
“She looks... familiar,” he muttered, his voice low. His entire body tensed.
Then, “Krystal?” he whispered.
“What?” Larry and Michael stared at him in shock.
Flashbacks slammed into him, uninvited but unstoppable. That night. Her voice. Her scent. Her warmth. His hands clenched. “That’s Krystal,” he said again, louder this time, the certainty sharpening in his voice.
He hadn’t imagined it that night. He knew it was Krystal! He wouldn’t have made a mistake like that, not with her.
His chest rose and fell as he gripped the phone a little tighter, the truth finally sinking in.
"Seriously? Are you sure?" Michael asked, leaning forward.
"It does look like her," Larry admitted, squinting at the screen. "But only her back is showing. Are you sure it's her?"
Lorenzo’s voice dropped, intense. “If I slept with her that night at the hotel... then that child... it’s mine?” The words rushed out of him in a single breath, disbelief warring with something deeper—something raw.
In the next second, he was on his feet, storming out of the bar.
***