Chapter 3

"Doctor, how is she really doing?"

Helen's voice drifted in from outside. There was an urgency in her tone that I had never heard before. But she wasn't anxious for me—she was anxious about the baby.

The doctor, a middle-aged man, spoke in a calm, measured voice.

"The patient suffered a placental abruption, which caused severe hemorrhaging. We had to perform an emergency C-section. We couldn't save the baby."

The hallway fell dead silent for two seconds.

Then, Helen’s voice spiked.

"How is that possible? He was eight months old! How could you not save him?"

"The blood loss was too severe. By the time she was brought in, we had already missed the critical window. How did she get injured?"

"She tripped. She fell at home."

Helen answered without a second of hesitation.

"I see... Just make sure she gets plenty of rest. Her emotional state will be very fragile over the next few days. Try not to trigger her."

"Of course, of course. Thank you, Doctor."

Their footsteps faded away.

I stared at a water stain on the ceiling. It looked like a curled-up shrimp.

Gone.

The little life that had been kicking inside me for five months was just... gone.

During my ultrasound last month, the technician had pointed at the screen and smiled. "Look, he's sucking his thumb."

I had seen it.

A tiny, blurry hand curled right next to his face.

Ethan had been standing right next to me, recording it on his phone and smiling like an idiot.

Helen pushed the door open and walked in.

She paused at the entrance, her eyes scanning my face before dropping to my flat stomach.

Her expression was complex.

It looked less like grief and more like she was calculating a financial loss.

She walked over, pulled up a chair, and sat down. Her fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the bed.

"You're awake?"

"Yeah."

She looked at me, her lips twitching as if she were rehearsing her speech.

Then she spoke.

"Look what you’ve done. You lost my grandson."

"Eight months. He was only six weeks away. Why did you have to throw a tantrum and cause all this drama?"

My lips were dry and cracked. I licked them, tasting the metallic tang of dried blood.

"You made me kneel..."

"What did you say?"

She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a harsh whisper.

"What did you say? Who made you kneel? You tripped because you weren't looking where you were going. Didn't we already agree on that?"

There wasn't a shred of guilt in her eyes. She genuinely believed her own lie.

Or rather, she had successfully rewritten reality in her mind until she believed it.

"If you feel wronged, think about what you did," she said, straightening up and returning to her normal volume. "Who was the one who brought that home-wrecking tramp into our house? Whatever mistake Richard made, the root of the problem lies with you. And now that the baby is gone, how am I supposed to explain this to Ethan?"

"Tell him the truth," I said, staring at her. "Tell Ethan what actually happened."

Her face froze.

"What do you want me to tell him? About his father? About you kneeling?"

"The truth."

"The truth?" She stood up abruptly, the chair legs screeching against the floor.

"If the truth gets out, what happens to Richard’s reputation? What happens to this family? If Ethan finds out his own father did this, do you think he can handle it?"

She bent down, her face inches from mine.

"What good does it do you to tear this family apart? You’ll end up with nothing. A childless wife with no family background to back you up—how do you expect to compete with me?"

There was a light knock on the door.

Jessica peeked her head in.

"Helen, the herbal broth is warm. Let’s get Chloe to drink some."

Helen stepped back, her angry expression instantly vanishing like a flipped page.

"Oh, thank goodness. Look how thoughtful this girl is. Come in, Jessica."

Jessica walked in holding a white porcelain bowl.

The warm broth had a few goji berries floating on top. She brought the bowl to my lips, holding the bottom with one hand and supporting the rim with the other.

"Chloe, have some. It’s freshly brewed with herbal supplements."

I didn't move.

"Chloe?"

"Jessica, about that bag of clothes you brought."

"Huh?" She blinked.

"How did you know my father-in-law's exact sizes?"

The bowl froze in mid-air.

Jessica’s smile remained, but the corners of her mouth stiffened.

Helen cleared her throat loudly from the side.

"She was just helping. I called her and told her to grab those clothes from our house. I told her the sizes. Now, stop overthinking and drink your broth."

Jessica’s smile recovered, and she nudged the bowl closer to me.

"Chloe, Helen told me to get them. You’re just exhausted and overthinking."

I looked at the broth.

A thin layer of oil glistened on the surface.

"And how did you get into the house? Whose keys did you use?"

Jessica’s fingers tightened around the bowl.

Helen’s voice turned incredibly sharp. "Chloe! This girl ran all over town to help you, and you’re interrogating her? Are you going to drink this or not? If not, I'm taking it away."

Jessica placed the bowl on the nightstand.

She stepped back, lowering her head as she wiped her hands with a tissue.

When she looked up, her eyes were red.

"Chloe, I know you’re hurting right now... Nobody wanted this to happen to the baby. If my presence is upsetting you, I’ll just leave."

Her voice carried a perfect, delicate sob.

Helen sighed and wrapped an arm around Jessica’s shoulders.

"Look at you, Jessica, don't say that. You've been running around helping us for hours. Look at everything on the nightstand—you brought all of it. And here she is, taking out her bitterness on you."

"It’s fine, Helen. Chloe is in pain and emotionally unstable. I understand."

Jessica wiped her eyes and offered me a tearful smile.

"Chloe, get some rest. I’ll reheat the broth for you later."

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