Chapter 6 Chapter 6. If I Die, Will You Be Sad?

Zephyr’s voice turned icy: “Kieran once owed me his life. Zoria, I have conceded as much as I could for you. You’d better behave, or with just a flick of my finger, your father might cease to exist.”

Zephyr’s words were both a warning and a reminder to Zoria.

Juliette sobbed until she choked. She went mad, rushing toward Zephyr, only to be shoved to the ground by him.

Juliette pointed at Zephyr, cursing him, calling him a bastard, a traitor. Zoria wanted to step forward to lift her, but Zephyr gripped her tightly. He wrapped his arm around Zoria’s waist, looking down at Juliette lying on the ground, a mocking smile curling his lips.

"To be honest, I should thank Zoria, because it was thanks to her that Kieran ended up like this." After saying that, Zephyr held Zoria firmly and left the courthouse.

Behind them, Juliette’s shouting and cursing tightened around Zoria’s heart like a rope. She raised her hand to her chest, trembling from the pain.

When they stepped outside, reporters had already surrounded them. Seeing Zephyr and Zoria appear, they immediately pressed close, raising microphones and bombarding them with all kinds of sly questions.

Zoria’s small and fragile body was trapped in the crowd, continuously shoved, jostled, and dragged. Her mind spun. Facing the sharp gazes and relentless questions, she felt as if she were being devoured alive.

Suddenly, a microphone struck Zoria’s forehead with force, causing it to bleed. The bandage quickly soaked through. She cried out, feeling a sharp pain, and a red blur appeared before her eyes, making her vision hazy.

But no one seemed to notice her condition. The crowd acted as if her injury did not exist. A female reporter even spoke up, questioning, "Ms. Everhart, it is said that you once used your position as the mayor’s daughter to force Mr. Hawthorne into a mate bond with you. Is that true?"

Zoria stood awkwardly in the middle of the crowd, her face gaunt, now only the size of a palm. Then, suddenly, she smiled at the camera. Her smile shone brightly, the corners of her mouth curling, yet her eyes remained cold; everyone only saw the ferocity of her smile and failed to notice the deep sorrow hidden within her gaze.

Zoria did not understand why, at this moment, she was still thinking about the vow she had made on the day she completed the mate ritual with Zephyr, standing before the statue of the Moon Goddess.

For this lifetime, through fortune or misfortune, wealth or poverty, sickness or health, they would hold each other’s hands forever, never letting go.

Zoria covered her tearful eyes, letting her tears soak into her palms. So it turned out that her "never letting go" came at the cost of Everhart’s destruction.

Zephyr stood to one side, his bodyguards flanking him in a state of constant vigilance. His Alpha aura was so overwhelmingly oppressive that no one dared to approach him. But Zoria's side was completely different. She was weak and the central figure in the embezzlement scandal, so all the reporters pointed their cameras at her; even the crowd swarmed around her.

The reporters hurled vicious, pointed questions, demanding that Zoria answer them. Zephyr watched Zoria standing awkwardly amidst the crowd, her face deathly pale, and the corner of his mouth curled into a mocking smile.

Suddenly, a green can flew out from the crowd. Before Zoria could even react, it struck her head. The atmosphere froze for a few seconds, then a male's voice rang out from the throng, "She's the daughter of a corrupt criminal! How disgusting!"

In an instant, the surrounding crowd erupted in fury, hurling all sorts of things at Zoria. The reporters standing nearby also stepped back to avoid being hit by stray objects.

At that moment, Zoria was like a rat running across the street, chased and beaten by everyone. She hunched over, clutching her stomach, her body covered in filth. Blood trickled down her forehead, her hair was soaked from thrown drinks; blood and dirty water mingled together.

Trash covered Zoria's body, chaos reigned around her. Her small, frail frame staggered and was helplessly pressed against a wall, forced to listen to a torrent of vulgar insults. Her vision grew blurry and helpless.

Zephyr frowned, his thin lips pressing together slightly. A bodyguard standing beside him cautiously inquired, "Mr. Hawthorne, does she require assistance?"

Zephyr looked coldly toward Zoria. He could sense Zoria was crying. He had always been indifferent to her tears, but last night, hearing her sob inexplicably made him feel irritated.

Just then, his phone rang—a call from the villa. Zephyr answered. The maid's voice came through urgently, "Mr. Hawthorne, it's bad! Ms. Faye has fainted, and her nose is still bleeding."

A flash of urgency crossed Zephyr's eyes, his face darkening. "Take her to the hospital. Prepare the surgical team. I'll be right there!"

"Get her into the car," Zephyr said, his gaze dark and inscrutable as he looked at Zoria.

The bodyguard acknowledged the order and helped a dazed Zoria into the car. Her body was still filthy and gave off an unpleasant smell from the trash thrown at her. She sat listlessly, curled up on the seat near the car window. Zephyr sat in the passenger seat, glanced at her through the rearview mirror, and then threw her a pack of tissues.

"Clean yourself up. We are going straight to the hospital."

Zoria looked at the pack of tissues in her hand, her eyelashes trembling, her heart aching.

Could Zephyr really not wait one more day to perform the bone marrow transplant? Faye truly was the female he loved with his whole life. If she had known earlier that Zephyr loved someone else so deeply, why would she have wasted all those years trying, without success, to make him love her?

"Zephyr, if I die on the operating table today, will you feel any heartache?"

Zephyr said nothing. Zoria sighed, stroked her own stomach, and let out a miserable laugh.

Baby, why did you have to be reborn as my child?