"This... this isn't real. I even bought our daughter a teddy bear—look how cute it is. She's going to love it."
Colin stared at Iris, his eyes fixed on her.
"Our daughter is still... she's still here, right? You were lying just now, weren't you, Iris..."
"Enough!"
Iris closed her eyes. A single tear slid slowly from the corner of her eye, but her voice was cold as frost. "It's true. Our daughter is gone. I'm sorry, Colin..."
"Ah..."
Colin collapsed to the floor. His eyes burned red, his body shaking, convulsing like a man caught in a seizure.
His fingernails dug deep into his palms, blood welling up between his fingers.
His poor daughter had never even entered this world before leaving it.
And watching Colin writhe in agony, Maxwell, Kate, and Gerard wore nothing but cold smirks. Not a shred of sympathy—only undisguised contempt.
"Why?" Colin's voice tore from his throat like a wounded animal.
"Let me tell you why."
Kate walked over and stood above him, looking down.
"Iris is at the peak of her career right now. If she'd stayed pregnant, everything she's built would've been ruined."
"So the child had to go. We couldn't let it become a stumbling block—like you."
"Oh, and just so you know?" Kate's smile twisted into something demonic. "I'm the one who took her to get it done."
Minutes passed. Slowly, Colin rose to his feet. The trembling had stopped. His face was calm now.
But his eyes had turned to ice.
He walked forward and signed the divorce papers without hesitation.
His handwriting was beautiful—almost mocking the ugliness of what it represented.
Then he picked up the teddy bear from the floor and cradled it against his chest, as if it were everything he had left.
Seeing how lost he looked, something flickered in Iris's expression. "Colin, I can compensate you. Anything in this house—take whatever you want. And money..."
She pulled out a checkbook. "Write down any amount."
Kate's face soured immediately. "Iris, what are you saying? Everything in this house is valuable! We worked hard for all of it—this worthless man doesn't get to take a single thing!"
"He's been freeloading off us for three years. We've done more than enough. He doesn't get a cent!"
"Mom, don't talk like that. Colin—"
Iris frowned.
"I don't want anything," Colin said quietly. "Not money, not possessions. Just the clothes in that closet."
He walked toward the bedroom. The closet was stuffed with tiny, beautiful outfits—every single one sewn by his own hands, stitch by stitch, for his daughter.
He gathered them all, wrapped them in a bedsheet, stuffed the teddy bear inside, and slung the bundle over his back.
"That jade pendant is mine. Give it back."
Colin's gaze fell on the Serpent-Ember Jade hanging around Iris's neck.
Without a word, she unclasped it and handed it over.
Colin pulled out a document—the contract with Longtide Group. "Today is our wedding anniversary. I had a gift for you. But it doesn't matter anymore."
He dropped the contract on the floor and walked toward the door, hollow-eyed.
"Hey Mom," Gerard snickered, "doesn't his pathetic back look just like a stray dog?"
"Now that you mention it..." Kate's laughter was vicious. "It really does."
But at the doorway, Colin suddenly turned. His gaze swept across each member of the Fox family, one by one.
Finally, it settled on Iris.
"Remember this," he said, each word deliberate. "You will regret this."
"I, Colin Cox, will get justice for my daughter."
The ice in his eyes, the weight of his presence—Iris felt an involuntary shiver run through her.
"Ha! This little bastard thinks we'll regret it?" Kate howled with laughter. "I'm too busy celebrating to regret anything!"
Gerard picked up the papers from the floor. "A contract with Longtide Group?"
Longtide Group?
Both Iris and Henry's expressions shifted.
Longtide Group was one of Southland's top conglomerates, with massive ongoing projects in Seacliff—investments totaling tens of billions.
Every company in Seacliff was fighting tooth and nail to partner with them.
And securing a connection to Longtide was precisely why Iris had wanted this divorce.
"It's fake."
Henry, the wealthy young heir, barely glanced at it before scoffing. "Iris, your useless husband had quite the imagination—forging contracts now?"
Iris's brow furrowed. This was the gift Colin had prepared?
A fake contract to impress her?
She'd felt a twinge of guilt about forcing the divorce. Now it seemed she'd made the right call.
"Iris, now that you're single, things will be much easier." Henry adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, every inch the privileged heir. "I'll pull some strings and get you into the Southland Council."
The Southland Council!
Kate and Maxwell's eyes lit up.
The Southland Council was an exclusive private organization, chaired by none other than the famous Marjorie Floyd herself.
Longtide Group belonged to the Floyd family, and their billion-dollar Seacliff projects were all under Marjorie's direct oversight.
Every member of the Council was either filthy rich or extremely powerful. Membership was a status symbol.
The catch? Only single women could join—which was exactly why Iris had divorced Colin.
"Mr. Harrington, you're too kind," Maxwell gushed, his wife nodding eagerly beside him. "With your connections as heir to the Harrington Group, Iris's career is sure to soar."
"Seriously," Gerard chimed in, "you're ten thousand times better than that loser Colin. If my sister had married you from the start, she'd be the richest woman in Seacliff by now."
"You flatter me."
Henry's words were modest, but his expression said otherwise. His gaze drifted to a piece of calligraphy hanging in the corner of the living room, and he walked over.
"Beautiful work," he murmured.
"What does it even say? 'Spring pool,' something something?" Gerard squinted. "Looks pretentious. Throw it out—it's bad luck."
"It says Spring Pool's Gentle Charm."
Henry's eyes grew brighter the longer he looked. The brushwork was exquisite.
Then he noticed the signature. His face changed. "This is... this is a piece by Master Solitude!"
"Master who?" Maxwell asked.
"Master Solitude is a reclusive calligraphy grandmaster living right here in Seacliff..."
Seeing their blank faces, Henry cut to the point: "His work sells for a hundred thousand dollars per character."
"What?!"
Kate's jaw dropped.
Maxwell, mid-sip of his tea, froze.
Even Iris looked stunned. "Henry, you can't be serious."
"I'm completely serious. My father is vice-chairman of the Seacliff Calligraphy Association, and I'm a member myself. Master Solitude's work goes for a hundred thousand a character—when you can even find it. Just last week, some tycoon from Capital City paid two million for an authentic piece. Two characters. That's a million per character."
Henry took a deep breath, visibly shaken. "How does your family have an original Master Solitude?"
A long silence followed.
Finally, Iris spoke, her voice distant and dazed.
"Colin... Colin wrote it."
