"And you owe our daughter just as much."
"Since the day she was born, you never once cared about her. Not when she was sick. Not when she cried."
"But that bastard child of yours? Him you dote on."
Thomas said nothing.
I scoffed and turned to look at the two children.
My daughter was gaunt and sallow, her tiny brow furrowed even in sleep.
The other child was plump and rosy, visibly healthier in every way.
The bitterness spilled out before I could stop it.
"You really do play the devoted husband for Tracey and her son."
"Too bad a mistress will always be a mistress, and a bastard will always be a bastard."
That hit a nerve.
"Do you have to be so vile? What do you mean, bastard?"
"If you'd been able to conceive, do you think I would've gone to her for a child?"
My eyes went wide.
"What are you saying..."
He lifted his head and stared straight into my eyes.
"I'm telling you, Douglas is not a bastard, and he will never be called illegitimate."
"What can a girl accomplish? The Gilbert family name, the legacy, the empire — all of it needs a son."
The room fell silent. I stared at him, unable to process what I'd just heard.
He frowned, impatient.
"If Douglas hadn't gotten sick, if the bone marrow match hadn't led back to her, do you think you would've ever found out?"
"Just think of it as your daughter doing a good deed. Building up karma. Once she's discharged, we go back to normal. We move on."
The sheer absurdity of it pulled a cold laugh from my throat.
My daughter had been kidnapped at her own first birthday party and drained of her bone marrow. I'd tracked down the culprit, only to discover it was her own father.
Thomas Gilbert didn't give a damn whether his daughter lived or died, yet somehow I was the one being unreasonable.
I made a phone call. My assistant arrived within minutes, people in tow.
Thomas's bodyguards moved to block them. I shut that down myself.
My lawyer handed me the custody relinquishment agreement. I took it and threw it at Thomas.
"If this hospital won't treat her, I'll find one that will."
"Since you can't stand the sight of your own daughter, you can have exactly what you want."
"Sign it."
Thomas stared at the document, stunned for half a second, then erupted.
"What the hell are you doing? Who gave you permission to draw this up?"
"I'm telling you, there's no way I'm signing—"
I raised a hand and cut him off before he could finish.
"When I was eight months pregnant and agreed to remarry you, you promised you'd be good to me and our daughter."
"That was the last time I ever believed you."
"Three days. Whether you sign or not, I'm taking my daughter."
I turned and walked away, ignoring his frantic shouting behind me.
Once I was past the hospital doors, I stopped, leaned close to my assistant's ear.
"Get Lily's surgical reports. I'm not swallowing this. I'm going to make him pay."
My daughter's condition was serious.
Her already frail body had been drained of bone marrow. She needed rest and careful treatment more than ever.
I stayed at the hospital for days. Not a word from Thomas.
He didn't visit her once.
My assistant told me why: Tracey's brat had fallen ill again, and Thomas was at his bedside around the clock.
It wasn't until Lily's condition finally stabilized that I went to collect the agreement in person.
I went straight to that hospital room myself.
But the moment my fingers touched the door handle, I heard voices inside.
"Mr. Gilbert, your wife has been at the hospital with your daughter for days."
"Her assistant asked that you please sign the agreement as soon as possible."
Thomas's voice was flat, dripping with contempt.
"She's a Gilbert by blood. Why would I hand her over?"
"This whole mess is Vivienne's fault to begin with. Let her stew a few more days, and she'll come crawling back to apologize."
His assistant hesitated, then ventured carefully.
"And if... your wife pushes for divorce again?"
Thomas let out a derisive laugh, voice brimming with certainty.
"Even if she tries, she can't leave me. She can't leave the Gilbert family."
"Forget how much she loves me. Even if we divorced, who'd want her? Damaged goods dragging a kid around."
"Besides, with Douglas's condition... we might still need Lily."
The sound of my daughter's name knocked the air from my lungs. My hand clenched around the door handle.
Another voice rose from inside, syrupy and soft. Tracey.
"Thomas, I still... want to give Douglas a real place in the family."
