Chapter 89: Chapter 89 She Carries The Kings Heir
Against his better judgment, Timothy headed toward the dungeon. He needed to question Phoebe privately about what really went down.
Something felt off. Too many pieces didn’t fit, and he doubted Phoebe actually wanted Perry dead.
If she’d truly wanted him gone, she would’ve finished the job. She’d had plenty of opportunities.
Yet Phoebe had confessed to slipping Perry that slow-acting poison. Timothy burned with curiosity about the real story, hoping he could get her to talk.
But when he reached the dungeon, Cameron’s panicked voice hit him first—calling Phoebe’s name again and again.
"What’s happening?" Timothy rushed to the cell, watching Cameron desperately try to bend the iron bars.
"Check on her! Something’s seriously wrong!" Cameron jabbed his finger toward Phoebe’s motionless form.
Alarm shot through Timothy. He bolted outside, grabbed a warrior to unlock the cell, and the moment it swung open, he was at Phoebe’s side.
"Phoebe, hey." He shook her gently. Her skin felt ice-cold under his touch.
She was out cold, sweat beading across her forehead.
His first thought was to check for injuries, but no blood scent reached him. As far as he remembered, Perry hadn’t touched her. No wounds marked her body either.
The only blood smell came from Mason’s blood that had splattered on her when Perry killed the omega. Nothing else.
But Phoebe looked ghost-pale. Her lips had turned blue.
"Get a healer down here!" Timothy barked at one of the warriors.
"Move her somewhere safe! Get her the help she needs!" Cameron yelled from his cell. He strained to see his daughter better, but Timothy’s body blocked his view. "What happened to her?! Get her out!"
Timothy wanted to, but he couldn’t act without Perry’s word. The king had personally ordered Phoebe locked up.
Just checking on her was pushing it. Moving her would cost him his head.
Especially with Perry’s current mood.
The king had lost all reason, hell-bent on destroying everything in his path. Nothing else mattered to him anymore.
In Perry’s mind, Phoebe had cut him deep.
He’d trusted her, tried opening up, attempted to change for her—only to get stabbed in the back.
Her confession about the poison had shattered something inside the king. Timothy wasn’t sure they could piece him back together.
"What are you waiting for?! Move her! Get her out of here!" Cameron shouted.
"Shut up!" Timothy roared. Cameron wasn’t helping, and he hated taking orders from anyone but the king. "Shut the hell up, or I’ll have them gag you!"
Cameron cursed under his breath but stopped giving orders, especially when the healer arrived and immediately began examining Phoebe.
"What’s wrong with her?" Timothy asked. The healer was taking forever to make a diagnosis.
The new healer was Marcela—young, maybe twenty-five. She wasn’t as skilled as Helen had been, since Helen was a veteran, but Marcela was the best replacement they could find for the palace healer position after Helen’s unexpected death.
"She’s..." Marcela hesitated. "She’s pregnant."
Timothy’s eyes went wide. He hadn’t seen this coming. Sure, he’d wondered why Phoebe hadn’t gotten pregnant yet, knowing the two of them had been active, but for her to be pregnant now...
The timing couldn’t be worse.
"We need to move her somewhere warm. Her body’s extremely weak—she’ll lose the baby if we leave her like this."
Timothy’s head spun. He couldn’t make this call alone.
"What are you waiting for?! Move her!" Cameron was stunned by the pregnancy news, but shock quickly turned to frantic pleading for Timothy to get Phoebe out.
It hit him then—his daughter was pregnant, and the baby carried his bloodline. His flesh and blood. She was his daughter, after all. Phoebe had been right. No matter how much he’d wanted Reginald to be his son, it would never happen—he felt no real connection with the boy. Their bond was weak.
His bond with Phoebe wasn’t much stronger, but at least they’d once had something when it was just the two of them.
"Timothy!" Cameron raged as the royal gamma sat there, seemingly doing nothing.
Suddenly, Timothy stood up.
"Stay here and watch her." He turned to the warrior. "Get her whatever she needs—blankets, makeshift bed, everything."
He wouldn’t take Phoebe out without Perry’s permission, but he could make her situation more bearable.
After giving his orders, Timothy rushed from the cell. He had to tell Perry what happened.
Phoebe was pregnant with his firstborn—the future heir. Perry couldn’t abandon her to suffer in the dungeon.
"What’s going on?" Flynn asked when he spotted the look on Timothy’s face as he returned.
