The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 475

—With a mother this beautiful, your little one is going to be gorgeous.

—Look at the 3D ultrasound. See how he's pouting? Isn't he adorable? He definitely has your features.

—You're almost at full term. You must be so excited to meet your baby.

Petty gradually went still. Silent tears streamed down her face as she stared at the video, her trembling hand lifting to brush against the glass of the screen. The onesie the baby was wearing... Her fingertips twitched as a violent jolt shot through her chest. That little bear pattern. She was the one who bought that outfit.

The hazy memories of those dark months suddenly crashed back into her consciousness. She had obsessively bought baby clothes before her due date, and even after the induced labor, she had kept buying them as a way to escape reality. Newborn sizes all the way up to toddler clothes. Outfits for spring, summer, fall, and winter. She had bought enough to fill several trunks, enough to last until he was three years old. Franco had packed them away. She remembered it now. Those trunks were stored in the attic of Misty Vale's main house. There were so many nights she had sat up there, endlessly organizing and folding those tiny clothes while waiting for him to come home.

"You're lying, aren't you? Franco, tell me you're lying..." Her trembling fingers traced the tiny face on the screen. Her chest ached with a paralyzing numbness, making it impossible to breathe. The baby was smiling. His eyes crinkled in a way that looked exactly like her own childhood photos. It really was her Abacus.

She broke down into uncontrollable sobs, clutching the phone. Franco's eyes were rimmed with red. He pulled her flush against him, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I would never lie to you about our son," he murmured huskily. "It's him. It's our Abacus."

"Please, just promise you won't hurt yourself, and I'll take you to see him right now."

Caught between devastating grief and soaring hope, Petty let out a tearful, breathless laugh. She looked at Franco, then over at Hans, entirely overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the moment. She opened her mouth to speak, but it took a fresh wave of tears before she could force out a single, fragile word: "Okay."

The elevator rode up to the top-floor intensive care unit. Franco held Petty's hand, guiding her through the rigorous sterilization protocols. He personally helped her scrub in and dress in the sterile protective gown, and for once, she followed his lead without an ounce of resistance.

Because the isolation ward had strict limits on visitors, Hans stayed behind in the waiting area. During the elevator ride, Franco had explained that Abacus was severely immunocompromised and urgently needed a bone marrow transplant. Miraculously, Harris had been a perfect match.

It dawned on Hans that Franco must have secretly run their blood samples during a routine physical without telling anyone. In that moment, everything clicked. Hans finally understood why Franco had shed tears that day he shot Laura, and he realized exactly what Laura's twisted role in all of this had been. The pieces fell into place. Everything Franco had done—every brutal, desperate choice—had been for Abacus.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify