Chapter 91 The Voice

Noah Noah's mind had become a twisted labyrinth, a maelstrom of obsession and delusion. The light in the cellar flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls, illuminating Almara's pained expression. He hated seeing her like this. Perhaps he should have just ordered the C-section. Noah had lost track of time, consumed by his manic pursuit of claiming the love of his life. His once well-kempt appearance had given way to wild, unkempt hair and sunken, bloodshot eyes. He had barely eaten or slept, sustained only by the fire of his obsession.