Chapter 779

Zoe Chamberlain huddled in the corner, her nails digging deep into her palms.

"It wasn't me! Stay back!"

Her screams were hysterical as the mangled figures of the couple flashed before her eyes. The husband's hollow sockets and the wife's bruised arms reached for her, inching closer.

"Give me back my daughter's life..."

The ghostly wails echoed in her ears.

Zoe flailed wildly, knocking over a glass on the coffee table. Shards scattered, cutting her ankles, but she didn't even notice.

"Ghosts! Help!"

Staggering backward, she toppled a floor lamp. In the flickering light, she saw a little girl standing in a pool of blood, stretching out a tiny hand toward her.

Zoe's eyes rolled back as she collapsed to the floor.

When Vivian Laurent pushed open the door, the metallic scent of blood hit her.

"She scared herself unconscious," Ethan Roscente muttered, kicking aside the broken glass.

A pale-faced neighbor peeked out. "That woman's lost it—screaming about seeing dead people..."

Vivian crouched down, pressing two fingers to Zoe's wrist.

"Psychological trauma," she said, slipping her phone away. The ICU surveillance footage still glowed on the screen.

Ethan hauled Zoe's limp body up with one arm. "Hospital?"

"Yeah."

The hospital hallway at 2 AM was eerily empty.

Zoe was wheeled into an observation room, the steady beep of the heart monitor filling the silence.

"Go get some sleep," Ethan said, draping his jacket over Vivian's shoulders. "I'll stay."

She shook her head, pointing to the lounge at the end of the hall. "There's a bed in there."

"Where do I sleep?" He arched a brow.

"Don’t you have a penthouse?"

Ethan shoved open the lounge door, eyeing the narrow single bed. "I'll take the floor."

Vivian ignored him, lying down without another word.

Ten minutes later, a muffled cough broke the silence.

"Ethan."

"Yeah?"

"Get up here."

The mattress dipped under his weight.

Vivian felt the heat of his chest against her back and immediately warned, "Hands."

His fingers froze mid-reach.

"One move and you're back on the floor."

Ethan obediently withdrew his arm—only to slip it around her waist once her breathing evened out.

Beneath his palm, a tiny flutter pulsed.

He held his breath, fingertips trembling.

Their child.

Moonlight filtered through the blinds, casting dappled shadows over their entwined silhouettes.