When Love Becomes a Cage (Melanie) novel Chapter 213

Leaving the Pattersons' place, I made a beeline for the hospital to find Warren.

I knew deep down that carrying this child was like harboring a ticking time bomb.

If I can barely stand up at a party without feeling like I'm gonna pass out, how on earth am I supposed to handle giving birth?

And if the baby was indeed born with abnormalities, the child would be doomed to a life of suffering. I couldn't bear the thought of my baby enduring endless pain.

Warren, examining my recent lab results, seemed torn.

"An abortion is inevitable, but your body is just too weak right now. Your health indicators are all over the place."

"We could operate, but recovery's going to be hell, especially since you've relapsed twice already."

His words echoed my fears, leaving me sighing in resignation, at a loss for words.

It seemed like terminating the pregnancy was the only viable option left.

Warren took off his glasses, looking visibly drained.

"Melanie, I'm giving you a week to get yourself together. Take a leave if you must."

"Eat well, drink plenty of fluids. Without your health, you've got nothing. Maybe light a candle for the little one later on."

His advice left me torn between tears and laughter.

"You're superstitious, aren't you?"

"I respect everyone's beliefs," he replied with a shrug, his expression turning serious as he gazed at me.

"If he knew how much you're struggling to save him, he'd forgive you."

He meant the tiny being growing inside me—a mere bundle of cells, yet already so profoundly connected to me.

I wasn't sure if Clyde, once awake, would remember any of this, but I knew it would break his heart.

Sniffling, I managed to say, "Alright, then. Schedule the surgery for next week."

Warren looked at me intently for a long moment before nodding.

"I'll be there to observe the surgery. I need to record the data."

Yet, considering Clyde's erratic behavior and his temper, I felt consulting a specialist was necessary.

"Can we get a consult with a leading expert, preferably from abroad?"

Warren winked at me, a sly smile curling his lips.

"Lucky you, my mentor, a renowned neuroscientist, is giving a lecture here tomorrow."

"I've already booked Clyde an appointment. A case like his doesn't come around often."

He slid a document across to me, "Clyde's experiencing mental confusion, and currently, you're his primary guardian."

"Just sign here. We need to document his condition for academic purposes, but rest assured, patient confidentiality is our top priority."

Handing me the pen, he looked almost fox-like in his cunning.

I found myself signing almost in a daze.

Warren's request was straightforward—Clyde's medical data would be openly used for educational and analytical purposes.