“Ernest…” Elissa’s strength had nearly abandoned her, her voice barely a whisper, but her gaze burned with unwavering determination.

She reached up with trembling fingers, grasping Ernest’s collar with desperate intensity, her hatred pouring forth in every word. “Listen to me carefully. You shattered your promise and handed what belonged to me to someone else. So I don’t want it anymore! I won’t take it back… never again!”

Her body finally surrendered, her breathing ragged and uneven, her vision blurring at the edges.

“Elissa!” Both Ernest and Hadley lunged forward to support her as she collapsed. Elissa melted into Hadley’s embrace, deliberately turning her face away from Ernest, showing him nothing but the back of her head.

“Ernest,” Hadley called out sharply, observing how violently Elissa shook in her arms. She frowned deeply and shook her head at him with clear disapproval. “You need to leave. Elissa is far too agitated right now.”

This level of distress could endanger both her and the baby she carried.

“Alright.” Ernest had no alternative but to comply. He cast one last worried glance at Elissa before pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll call someone to clean up this mess and have the kitchen prepare another bowl.” With those words, he turned on his heel and left the room.

“Hadley!” Elissa clutched desperately at her, tears streaming down her face without restraint. “He wants to drag me to the Flynn Mansion… How dare he even suggest such a thing?”

She shook her head violently, her sobs intensifying. “I won’t go. I refuse to let him have his way!”

Elissa’s condition remained fragile, so Hadley kept her visit brief.

After Hadley’s departure, the servants efficiently cleaned up the shattered remnants, and Ernest returned carrying a fresh bowl of soup from the kitchen. By then, Elissa had retreated to her bed, her emotions somewhat more settled than before.

Ernest set the soup carefully on the bedside table, lifted the lid, and scooped up a spoonful, blowing on it with gentle persistence. “Please try.”

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Elissa kept her gaze fixed downward, refusing to acknowledge his presence. When the spoon touched her lips, she parted them mechanically, swallowing with deliberate slowness.

For the baby’s sake, she could not allow herself to refuse nourishment completely.

“How does it taste?” Ernest inquired, his voice carrying a note of hopeful uncertainty.

At first, Elissa simply frowned—an expression that had become her constant companion in recent days.

“Is it acceptable?” Ernest ventured hopefully.

Without warning, Elissa suddenly pressed her hand against her mouth, launching herself from the bed and racing toward the bathroom.

“Elissa!” Ernest scrambled after her in obvious panic.

Inside the bathroom, Elissa bent over the toilet, her body convulsing with violent waves of nausea.

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