Love Beyond the Mask

Chatper 237

At the airport in the South, Ludwik stepped off the plane and immediately turned on his laptop, eager to

check the live feed from the sanatorium’s surveillance system.

But the connection was frustratingly spotty, the feed lagging in real–time.

His gaze was icy as worry creased his brow. Without a moment’s hesitation, he dialed the sanatorium.

The director picked up, his voice hesitant and filled with excuses about poor reception in the mountains

and ongoing repairs.

Meanwhile, Felix was rambling on about a litany of issues cropping up at the factory,

Yet, Ludwik, standing tall and imposing in the midst of the bustling airport, paid him no mind. A chill

surrounded him, his brow twitching with unease.

Suddenly, his phone pinged with a notification.

An unfamiliar number with an international prefix – probably spam?

It rang just once!

For reasons Ludwik could not fathom, he found it unsettling and impulsively tried to call back, but it

would not go through.

What the hell was going on?

Something felt very wrong tonight. His right eye twitched, a premonition of impending trouble.

“Mr. Lippert? Mr. Lippert?” Felix called out several times before getting his attention.

Ludwik slowly turned, noticing an inexplicable film of sweat on his palm. “I can’t connect to the

sanatorium’s feed. Damn it, what good are they if they can’t get this right? Forget the factory issues. I

need to go back.”

Taken aback by Mr. Lippert’s unusual demeanor and evident agitation – he had not rested at all on the

flight – Felix did not dare say more and immediately instructed the airport manager, “Prepare Mr.

Lippert’s private jet for a return flight.”

“Plot the shortest course. Get me there in two hours. And find out what’s going on at the sanatorium!”

Ludwik ordered, pinching the bridge of his nose as he strode back to the cabin.

“What did you say? Imbeciles! She was in labor, and you let her escape?!” Elaine could hardly believe

the call from her henchman.

Fuming with rage, she had left the scene to cover her tracks and was busy planting ‘evidence‘ to’turn

tonight’s events in her favor. She even planned to cast herself as the ‘victim‘ of a kidnapping by

Whitney and Tiana.

Once she confirmed that the child was killed during an emergency C–section and the B&B was

reduced to ashes, all the secrets would die with Whitney in the inferno.

“Exactly how did you let her get away? Where are the others?” Elaine snapped, her eyes flashing with

malice as she spun the car around and raced back.

Arriving back at the B&B, she was greeted by a scene of carnage, with several of her men severely

injured, some with bites or severed wrists. A violent shiver ran down her spine.

“Elaine, you weren’t here. That dying woman was terrifying. She fought us tooth and nail to protect her

child…” Only one henchman was left unscathed, wiping blood from his eyes as he pointed toward the

back road from the B&B. “She took a scalpel and car keys. She was badly hurt, and with her water

broken, she couldn’t have gotten far!”

Elaine slapped him across the face, seething with fury. “Don’t just stand there. Gather everyone and

find her! Kill her on sight, and make it quick!”

She glanced nervously around the room and commanded, “And burn this place to the ground.”

Elaine drove off, cursing the resilient woman who dared to fight back.

Whitney pushed the car to its limits, the world around her a blur. She could not recall how she managed

to escape from that room; all she knew was that as a mother, she had done everything to prevent that

blade from slicing open her belly, to prevent Elaine from killing her baby.

The pain was unbearable; her abdomen throbbed, and blood and amniotic fluid soaked the seat. She

could no longer feel her baby moving; if she did not act fast, it would suffocate inside her.

What to do? The road was pitch black, deserted.

Behind her, Elaine’s men, like relentless predators, were surely on her trail.

In desperation, she abandoned the car, sending it careening down a slope, and fled in the opposite

direction, vaulting over the highway barrier into the trees lining the slope. : From NôvelDrama.Org.

The moon cast a cold light, and the sharp, salty sea breeze cut through the air.

She was near the coast, still within the territory of the coastal sanatorium..

She intended to endure, to get farther away to safety for her and her baby, but a sudden gush of blood

signaled the onset of labor. She collapsed onto the rocks, her baby ready to be born prematurely.

She could feel the baby’s tiny, desperate head pressing down, fighting for life.

Whitney tore a piece of cloth and stuffed it in her mouth. In the bone–chilling wind, she lay back,

opened her legs, and began to push with all her might, with one hand holding the knife and the other

clenching onto a rock.

Her cries of agony pierced the night, unanswered as if swallowed by the vast sea below.

Once cherished by him, she never imagined that one day she would be giving birth alone in the

wilderness, secretly enduring all the pain and torment to save her child.

Once, she never thought she would be driven to such despair by a mistress.

What had led them to this moment?

“Ludwik, every ounce of pain reminds me to hate you. I hate you, Ludwik.”

As consciousness slipped away under the intense agony, Whitney, drenched in sweat, bit down on the

cloth, her mouth filling with blood. She had no strength left; she was gravely injured at the B&B and

was now on the verge of a difficult labour.

How could she deliver?

The pain was overwhelming, and she was nearly blacking out. The baby had grown so quickly like she

was carrying twins, but the doctor had said it was just excess amniotic fluid.

Was the baby in the wrong position?

Desperate, Whitney bit down hard, her oxygen–starved brain growing fuzzy, the world darkening as

she forced herself to stay awake.

The baby would suffocate otherwise.

Through the haze, something surged out with a rush of fluid.

Barely conscious, Whitney tried to reach for her child, but another surge of pain wracked her body.

She touched her still–swollen belly, despair engulfing her. Had she not yet given birth?

Pressing down on her abdomen, she pushed with all the pain of a knife carving bone, numbly assisting

her own labor.

Finally, a feeble cry sliced through the night, barely audible.

“My child… my precious…” Whitney wept with joy!

With her last bit of strength, she cut the umbilical cord.

As her pale, trembling hand reached for her baby, a blinding light suddenly flooded over her from

behind.

“There she is!” yelled one of the henchmen.

Whitney clutched her newborn to her chest with a desperate grip, as if her soul had left her body. She

tried to rise, but her strength failed her.

Four thugs closed in, the leader picking up a scalpel that had fallen to the ground, twirling it menacingly

in the dim light of a flashlight. The beam suddenly flooded over Whitney and her infant, and he called

out behind him, “This bitch has gone and had the kid! Get Elaine and Mr.

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Lippert on the line.”

Mr. Lippert? The name struck Whitney as if she had been rendered mute.

Her face was ashen, and she held her newborn with a madness only a mother could muster. The

agony of childbirth was nothing compared to the excruciating pain ripping through her

heart at this moment.

Did he know about the birth? The child was born, and yet he still did not want it? Was he still plotting

with Elaine to get rid of them both?

Why? Oh, why?

“Ludwik… I fought with everything I had to bring this child into the world,” she cried out. “I risked my life

to give you this baby, and you still cast us aside. Ludwik, you monster!”

She felt on the brink of insanity as if she could visibly see her heart tearing, piece by piece, while she

stumbled backward, trying to evade the thugs who were after her child, the ominous glint of the scalpel.