Chapter 35 Balthazar
Balthazar
Hours later, the doctor entered the waiting room, his face drawn and ashen.
My heart dropped.
“She didn’t make it,” he said quietly, his voice thick with regret.
I took a step back, my mind refusing to process his words. “She what?”
“She died, sir. Your wife…” He hesitated, as if hoping to soften the blow. “We don’t know what happened. She was stable—her vitals were strong, and color had returned to her face. The nurse and I stepped into the hallway to confer… and when we returned, she was gone.”
Something inside me snapped.
“What did you do to her?” I lunged, slamming him back against the wall, one hand clutching his coat.
“We tried to save her!” he cried, panicked. “She was going to make it, I swear!”
I ripped my hands from his chest and threw back my head in a scream so raw it seemed to shake the walls.
“Sir! Please—keep your voice down!”
The words meant nothing. I wasn’t listening.
My eyes locked on his name badge.
Frank Clark, MD.
“I want to see her, Frank,” I said, my voice hoarse, the baby whimpering softly in my arms.
“It’s Dr. Clark,” he corrected, almost by reflex.
“Fine, chum,” I spat. “Take me to my lover.”
He opened his mouth as if to protest again.
“Now.”
He flinched at my tone, then nodded and motioned for me to follow.
The hospital room was chaotic. Nurses were rushing to clean, their gloves stained red, and whispers were exchanged behind masked faces.
And in the center of it all… Scarlett.
Still. Pale. Eyes fixed on the ceiling like she was staring through the veil.
She didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
She was gone.
Holding my child, I stood in the doorway, horror and sorrow seeping from every pore. I wanted to move, to scream, to undo everything—but I was paralyzed in place by the sheer magnitude of loss.
Slowly, I stepped into the room, eyes locked on Scarlett’s still body. I placed the baby beside her, hoping—foolishly—that somehow she might awaken. But she didn’t stir.
She was so beautiful, even in death.
I reached for her hand, cold and limp in mine. The tears came without restraint, soaking my face and falling to the floor. She was gone. And nothing would ever fill that hollow space again.
Dr. Clark’s voice interrupted the moment.
“You shouldn’t have had a home birth,” he said, his tone clipped. “At the very least, you should’ve called a midwife.”
My head snapped toward him.
“It was our choice,” I growled. “Our decision.”
He didn’t flinch. “I’m sorry, but she had a chance. If you had brought her here sooner—if you hadn’t risked a home birth—she might still be alive.”
That was it.
I lunged at him, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him back. My fists trembled. My teeth clenched. Heat radiated off my skin as if my grief had turned to fire.
“You should’ve done more,” I spat, voice breaking. “You’re the doctor! You were supposed to save her!”
The words tore out of me, ragged and raw.
Beside me, the baby wailed, tiny limbs flailing as if mourning with me.
Dr. Clark’s voice thundered through the room. “Call security! I need help in here—now!”
The nurses bolted, nearly stumbling over one another as they fled, wide-eyed and pale.
I released him, and a haunting silence settled over the room.
Dr. Clark backed away, his face drained of color, his fear thick.
Something inside me had snapped. My grief had fractured the last piece of restraint I possessed. The rage… it wasn’t just human anymore.
A maggot wriggled from beneath my skin, dropping onto the floor with a wet plop.
Dr. Clark froze. His eyes locked on my face as more decay sloughed off my cheek. He staggered back, crossing himself with trembling fingers.
“Dear God,” he whispered. “What are you?”
I smiled.
And more of me crumbled.
“Your worst nightmare made real,” I said, voice low and venom-laced. “Now be a good little doctor and cancel your security—before I decide you’re next.”
He nodded frantically. “Of course. At once.”
“And while you’re at it,” I added, my grin widening as more maggots slithered free, “give me and my dead lover a moment of peace.”
With a strangled groan, Dr. Clark backed out and shut the door behind him.
Silence returned, heavy and absolute.
I turned to Scarlett.
The sight of her—so still, so pale—sent a chill through me that no darkness could warm. My monstrous form quivered. My rage gave way to something worse—sorrow.
I shifted back. My flesh knit together, the rot retreating beneath my skin as my breath came in ragged, uneven pulls.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
I gathered the baby into my arms. His cries were softer now, as if he sensed the moment’s sadness. I rocked him gently, my chest rising and falling with grief I could barely contain.
This wasn’t how it was meant to be.
I had failed her most unforgivably.
“There, there, little one. We’ll manage on our own,” I murmured, offering him my pinkie to suckle. “So… what do you think of the name Tristan? Do you like it?”
He latched on, eyes fixed on me, silently accepting his fate.
“I agree,” I said softly. “It will do. For now.”
I turned back to Scarlett.
My face hardened to stone. My breathing slowed, as I forced myself to face the truth.
Scarlett—mother of my child, the woman I held as she bled and fought to bring life into this world—was gone. Her body lay still, her skin cold, her eyes vacant.
Just hours ago, I had held her hand through the agony of birth. Now, I stood in a sterile hospital room, the most powerful being to walk the earth—a demon forged from darkness, capable of horrors beyond mortal comprehension—and I couldn’t save her.
A deafening roar pulsed through my ears, dragging me into a void I could not escape.
Memories flashed—Scarlett’s laughter, and how we met the first time. I saw the future we’d never have, the life she would never know.
And I saw the past—Zara, ripped from me. My daughters, lost in blood and betrayal.
It was too much.
Hot tears spilled down my cheeks, burning my skin as I crumbled to the floor. I sobbed uncontrollably, the pain in my chest so immense I could barely draw breath.
But amid the agony, something else stirred—something darker.
A simmering rage that twisted around my grief like thorns.
In that moment, I decided—dark, absolute, and merciless.
I would raise this child in my image. With my cunning. My wrath. My thirst for vengeance.
Together, we would conquer the world, bathe it in fear and chaos.
But I had no idea…how wrong I would be.