A familiar sharp pain twisted in my stomach.
I unlocked my phone. On Angelo’s social feed, there were photos of Kimberly keeping vigil day and night by the incubator. Her face was pale, and haggard—an anxious expression I had never seen on her before.
Letting out a sigh, I asked my lawyer to draft the divorce agreement and went to the office to resign.
The HR manager looked at me in shock. “Mr. Vasquez, does President White know you’re resigning?”
“She doesn’t have time for this now,” I answered with a faint smile.
A flicker of pity gleamed in her eyes. I smiled wryly. I knew what she was thinking.
I returned to the West Hill villa. We had only stayed here a few times after getting married.
While packing, I found an old, yellowing slip of paper.
[Gavin, I don’t know when you’ll see this. Maybe by then we’ll already have a few kids. I love you so much. No matter what happens, promise me you’ll never leave me.]
A tear splashed onto the note. Suddenly, a violent pain seized my stomach. My vision went black, and I collapsed to the floor.
When I regained consciousness, my phone was ringing shrilly.
“Gavin Vasquez! What the hell do you want?!”
Kimberly’s voice roared through the speaker. She almost never used my full name like that.
“Angelo has been nothing but careful! I’ve told you over and over—he won’t affect your place in my life! Why did you send those vicious messages? Why would you curse my child?!”
I gave a bitter smile.
She didn’t even ask if it was really me. She just declared me guilty.
“Are you done?” I asked calmly.
She paused for a few seconds before continuing, “The baby’s full-month celebration is next Sunday. You have to be there. Stop acting like a child, okay?”
“...Okay.” I hung up the phone and stared out into the night.
—
On the day of the banquet, I wore a plain, subdued outfit and quietly arrived at the venue.
All eyes turned to me with pity. Meanwhile, at the center of the hall, Angelo stood tall in a sharp suit, looking every bit the man of the house.
Aunt Diana nudged me. “Go on, hold the baby.”
Kimberly passed one of the twins to me, whispering, “Gavin, I’m letting the text messages go. After today, I’ll send Angelo abroad. Both children will be registered under our names. Since we can’t have children, isn’t this the best solution?”
Her voice trembled with sincerity. My chest ached.
Back then, during the avalanche, I’d been crushed trying to save her—leaving me unable to have children. She had defied her parents for me, vowing never to have kids in this life.
But everything had changed now.
Suddenly, the baby in my arms started coughing violently, frothing at the mouth.
“What’s wrong with the baby?!” someone screamed.
Angelo rushed over, his voice shrill and panicked. “Mr. Vasquez! If you want to kill someone, kill me! Don’t hurt the child!”
Smack!
Uncle Lennon slapped me hard across the face. My vision blurred as I hit the ground. My cheek burned, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
Kimberly instinctively reached out to help me.
Then the baby let out a gut-wrenching cry—and vomited a mouthful of blood.
The room erupted into chaos.
“President White!” Angelo cried as he forced his way between us, frantic.
“The baby is not breathing! Please—help our child!”
Kimberly’s hand trembled violently.
I watched as the tenderness in her eyes faded, replaced by something cold and distant.
And then, without a word, she let go of me and turned to scoop the blood-streaked child into her arms.
...
The hospital hallway was icy cold.
I stood there like a ghost, the divorce papers I had prepared slipping from my pocket and fluttering to the floor.
Aunt Diana, sharp-eyed and harsh, bent down, picked them up, and threw them back at me with a sneer.
Her well-maintained face twisted with disgust. “Tell me, how has the White family ever treated you badly, huh? Kimberly went against us for you! We endured it all! And now you try to harm her child?”
“If you’re so eager to get divorced, then do it! Just don’t drag this out. Don’t cling to what is over.”
