Chapter 5

Cecilia's POV

The private dining room was lively, filled entirely with Tristan Shaw and Vivian Burke's high school classmates.

Many of them had seen me at Tristan Shaw's wedding, and their eyes now held a touch of subtle pity.

After a few rounds of drinks, the atmosphere grew lively.

A slightly tipsy male classmate stood up, holding a glass of wine.

“Listen up, everyone! Our Mr. Shaw and Vivian were the school's golden couple back then. Who didn't know them? After all these years, they've finally reunited. Tonight, they must drink a cross-cupped wine toast to reminisce about their youth!”

The entire table erupted into teasing and cheering.

Tristan Shaw held his glass without moving, instinctively casting a glance at me.

I was looking down, scrolling through my phone, not even lifting my eyelids.

He felt a tight sensation in his chest.

A female classmate noticed Tristan Shaw's gaze and smiled as she turned to me.

“Ms. Vance wouldn't mind, would she?” I looked up, offering a generous smile.

“Of course not. It's completely normal for classmates to reminisce about their youth.” The cheering grew even louder.

Tristan Shaw and Vivian Burke raised their glasses, linking their arms together.

They were so close they could feel each other's breath.

Vivian Burke's cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining as she looked up at Tristan Shaw, filled with shyness and anticipation.

Tristan Shaw's expression was complex. Holding his glass, he couldn't help but glance at me again.

I was holding up my phone, recording them, and even laughing as I chatted with the person next to me.

Tristan Shaw's face darkened.

He withdrew his gaze, held Vivian Burke's arm, and drained his glass in one gulp.

Setting his glass down, his eyes immediately searched for me again.

I was sharing the video I had just taken with the person sitting next to me, the two of us laughing over the screen.

Tristan Shaw remained silent, his face grim, filled with an indescribable irritation.

As the gathering dispersed, Vivian Burke was drunk and incoherent, unable to even stand steadily.

Tristan Shaw supported her, then turned to say to me:

“She's drunk, so I'm going to take her to a hotel. The driver will be here to pick you up shortly.”

Having said that, he gently helped Vivian Burke toward the exit. I followed them out of the clubhouse.

It had started raining outside at some point. The night wind rushed over us, carrying a bitter chill, and the temperature plummeted.

Shivering from the cold, Vivian Burke wrapped her arms around herself, muttering that it was freezing.

Tristan Shaw glanced at the coat I was wearing.

“Cecilia, lend her your coat. Vivian has a weak constitution and can't handle the cold wind.”

His tone was resolute and matter-of-fact, leaving absolutely no room for refusal.

Tristan Shaw left with Vivian Burke.

Clad in only a thin dress, I stood at the entrance of the clubhouse waiting for the car. It took a full half-hour before the driver finally arrived.

Upon returning home, I began to sneeze, and by midnight, I was running a high fever.

Since pregnant women can't take medication lightly, I could only tough it out.

In my feverish daze, I could vaguely see a figure bustling beside my bed.

Wringing out a towel, checking my forehead temperature, and tucking in the sheets.

I struggled to open my eyes. It was Tristan Shaw.

Guilt was written all over his face. Seeing that I was awake, he immediately leaned closer.

“I didn't think things through. I thought you had a strong constitution and wouldn't mind the cold. I didn't expect it to make you this sick.” I didn't have the energy to respond.

It wasn't that he hadn't thought about it; he simply didn't want Vivian Burke to catch even the slightest chill.

As for whether I, a pregnant woman, could withstand it, it hadn't even crossed his mind at the time.

Tristan Shaw turned around and went to the kitchen, returning with a bowl of hot soup.

“I made some soup for you. Have some; running a fever on an empty stomach will only make it worse.”

Just as he was about to hand it to me, his phone rang.

Tristan Shaw glanced at the caller ID, and his face instantly changed.

“What? A stomachache? I'll be right over!” He hung up the phone and pulled the bowl back.

“Vivian's old stomach issue is flaring up; she gets a stomachache whenever her stomach is empty. I'll take this soup to her first, and then I'll brew another bowl for you. Just wait an hour.”

With that, he hurriedly left with the bowl of soup.

Burning with fever, exhausted and weary, I lacked the energy to think about anything else.

I had no desire to wait for that bowl of soup that was destined never to arrive.

Closing my eyes, I quickly drifted into a deep sleep.

In the middle of the night, I was roughly shaken awake.

A pungent odor filled my nostrils. My head felt like it was splitting open, my chest was tight, and waves of nausea washed over me.

It was Martha, the maid, shaking me.

“Ma'am! Get up quickly! Someone forgot to turn off the kitchen stove, the pot has burned dry, and there's a natural gas leak. We need to get out first!”

My head was groggy, my legs felt like jelly, and I couldn't stand up at all.

Martha supported me, dragging and carrying me as we ran out of the room.

The moment we burst into the courtyard, my vision went black, and I collapsed.

When I woke up, I was in the hospital. Seeing me awaken, the doctor looked incredibly solemn.

“You're pregnant, running a fever, and you inhaled a massive amount of natural gas. Your heart rate was highly unstable when you were brought in. One step further, and you would have lost the baby!”

My hand instinctively went to protect my belly.

“Your pregnancy is currently very unstable. You must be on strict bed rest.

"If this happens again, I can't guarantee you'll be able to keep the baby."

The doctor was still going over the precautionary measures.

I listened quietly, my face devoid of emotion.

In my mind, images of Tristan Shaw flashed repeatedly—calm, composed, standing at the lecture podium when we first met.

The image that had once captivated me at first sight, binding my heart to him for what felt like ten thousand years, completely collapsed at this moment. It shattered into dust, leaving absolutely nothing behind.

I didn't listen to the doctor's advice to remain hospitalized.

I had Martha handle the discharge paperwork for me. The very first thing I did upon returning home was take a photo of the signed divorce agreement and send it to my lawyer.

"Use special channels to expedite the divorce proceedings. The faster, the better."

Next, I dialed Julian Vance's number.

"Julian, when are you coming to pick me up?"

There was a brief silence on the other end, followed by Julian's instant flare of protective anger. "

Did that bastard Tristan bully you again? Tell me, and I'll skin him alive!"

He paused, softening his tone.

"I'm returning to the country right now. I'll definitely be in Los Angeles next week to pick you up!"

After hanging up, I gently caressed my belly and whispered softly,

"It's okay."

"We don't need a father. I will raise you well all by myself."