Walking Away While Pregnant: Dear Ex-Husband, I Don't Love You Anymore novel Chapter 198

Chapter 198: Chapter 198

"Elise!"

The storage room door was kicked open. When the scene inside came into view, Dylan’s breath froze.

Elise lay in a pool of blood, a blood-stained tactical knife still clutched tightly in her hand.

She was trembling uncontrollably, her face splattered with blood—the vivid red forming a stark, tragic contrast against her deathly pale skin.

The brown-eyed man was twitching on the floor as blood gushed out of his body like a fountain. Moments later, the spasms ceased entirely, and his breath vanished.

Elise’s tear-filled eyes were devoid of any light.

"My babies... save my babies..."

Dylan stumbled to her side, completely ignoring his own injuries, and scooped her blood-soaked body into his arms.

He was shaking too. "Elise, don’t be afraid. I’m taking you to the hospital right now. The babies will be fine, they’ll be fine..."

Elise’s eyelashes fluttered slightly. Hearing the words she longed for, her hand loosened its grip on the knife.

With a sharp clang, the blade struck the floor, splashing a few tiny droplets of blood.

Elise lost consciousness completely.

When she finally came to, Elise found herself in an intensive care unit.

The doctor told her that she had been in a coma for an entire week.

Her newborn twins had tragically passed away. A few days ago, her husband, Dylan, had taken them to be buried in the Bennett family cemetery.

Her children were gone.

And as their mother, she hadn’t even been able to see them one last time.

Dylan was nowhere to be found; Mrs. Lander was the only one at the hospital taking care of her.

Everyone grieved for her. During those days, Mrs. Lander spent almost every waking moment wiping away tears.

Old Mrs. Bennett visited as well. The old woman’s eyes were swollen and watery as she trembled, holding Elise’s ice-cold hands and urging her to take care of her health, reminding her that she was still young and could have children again in the future.

Elise frantically asked where Dylan was.

Yet no one could give her an answer.

It wasn’t until a week later that she finally saw him.

He looked terrible—his forehead was wrapped in bandages, bruises and cuts still marked his face, and he sat in a wheelchair, pushed into her room by Oliver.

The moment she saw him, everything that had happened in the warehouse flashed back into her mind.

Sobbing, Elise demanded, "Who were they?! What did they want to take from you?!"

Dylan gave no answer.

His silence was the final straw that broke her completely.

She could not accept the death of her twins. She could not accept that her two innocent, living children had been sacrificed in a kidnapping scheme whose true motive remained a complete mystery to her.

To not even know why her children had died—no mother on earth could endure such cruel, agonizing injustice.

She knew Dylan had tried his absolute best to protect them. But she needed a reason. She needed to know why she and her children had been forced to suffer through this nightmare!

Yet all Dylan gave her were three heavy, hollow words: "I am sorry."

Elise couldn’t accept it.

She grew to resent his silence and secrecy, unleashing hysterical questions and accusations at him time and time again.

"Dylan, I just want an answer! I just want to know why my babies died! You put a tracking device on my phone—you knew about those people all along, didn’t you?!"

Dylan merely kept his head bowed, uttering not a single word.

From that day on, Dylan’s silence turned into the coldest, sharpest blade, slowly slicing away at Elise’s heart—a heart that, having lost her children, could no longer beat with life.

She couldn’t understand why.

She was only begging for the truth. Why was that so hard?

After countless demands met only with silence, her resentment toward Dylan reached its absolute peak.

"Dylan, all of this happened because of you! It was you—you killed my children! I will never forgive you, NEVER!"

Her violent emotional collapse triggered severe postpartum hemorrhage, and she was rushed back into emergency resuscitation.

Having dragged herself back from the brink of death once more, Elise was left completely emaciated, a hollow shell of her former self.

On the day she was discharged, ignoring the desperate pleas of Mrs. Lander and Old Mrs. Bennett, she insisted on going to the cemetery to see her children.

Engraved on the tombstone were the words: Son and Daughter of Elise and Dylan.

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