Serena’s POV
That night, dragging my frail body still weak from surgery, I made my way to the ICU.
Ethan had yet to wake up. His tiny frame was covered in tubes, his pale face ghostly white beneath the oxygen mask.
I sat beside her bed, gently holding her small hand. My tears fell, one after another, onto the back of it.
“Baby… please… wake up…” I muttered desperately.
“Mommy will never let anyone hurt you again…” I promised.
I didn’t close my eyes for a single moment that night.
The next afternoon, Clarissa arrived in a black dress, holding a bouquet of lilies. She stood at the ICU door, her face plastered with a false, sweet smile.
“Serena, I’m here to apologize to Ethan,” he began.
I shot to my feet and glared at her. “Get out!”
When it came to Clarissa, I felt both hatred and fear. I was terrified he would lose control again and hurt my son once more.
Clarissa put on an innocent, confused look. “Serena, I really know I was wrong. That day, I lost control… I was scared too… I didn’t mean it. Please, let me in, just for a moment. I just want to say one thing to her. Just one.”
My whole body trembled with rage. I stepped protectively in front of my son’s bed, my voice almost a roar.
“I said get out! What right do you have to apologize? Ethan almost died, and you think one ‘I didn’t mean it’ can make up for that?!”
Adrian appeared then, standing in the doorway with a frown.
“Serena, Clarissa truly regrets it. She cried the whole way here, bought her favorite flowers, and insisted on apologizing in person. You can’t just shut her out like this…”
A coldness spread through me.
“Adrian, have you forgotten? Ethan is allergic to lilies! This woman’s bringing them here now—what else could he mean but to try to kill my son again?”
Adrian fell silent.
Clarissa, however, took a few delicate steps toward me, her eyes glistening as if she were holding back tears.
“I only bought the flowers I like… I didn’t think about it. Serena, I truly meant no harm. Please… forgive me, alright?”
She reached out to take my hand.
Instinctively, I stepped back, shaking her off.
Her foot slipped. She fell to the floor, her skirt pooling around her as a wounded expression crossed her face.
“Serena!” Adrian’s brows knit tightly. He hurried to help her up. “You’re being too impulsive! Clarissa came here to apologize—why would you hurt her?”
“She’s already humbling herself. Are you really this heartless?” he yelled in disappointment.
I gave a short, cold laugh. “He humbles himself, and that means I have to forgive him? Adrian, my son is lying here, kept alive by machines, and you think I’m the one being heartless?!”
Clarissa wept pitifully, clutching Adrian’s sleeve.
“Adrian, it’s all my fault… I was just too scared. I didn’t mean to hurt her, I only—”
“Only pressed a five-year-old child’s head underwater?” I cut her off, my voice sharp as a blade. “Clarissa, do you have any idea that’s attempted murder?”
Her grip on Adrian’s sleeve tightened. Her expression flickered.
“Serena,” Adrian’s voice dropped into a stern tone, “enough. Clarissa has already suffered enough. She’s been having nightmares lately. Isn’t that punishment enough?”
My throat constricted. I opened my mouth to speak. But then I caught the sudden twist of Clarissa’s expression.
In a flash, he stood, his gaze darting across the room—then locking onto my son’s oxygen tube.
“She’s just a kid! I’ve apologized—what more do you want?!” Clarissa shrieked.
“Murder, huh? Serena, do you just want me to beg you? Dream on!” she shouted. “You wretched woman!”
The next second, he lunged toward my son, his hand reaching for the oxygen tube.
I sprang forward, shoving her away with all my strength. “No!” I screamed.
The tube was half-yanked from its place. Right then, the nurse rushed in as I shielded my child with my body.
Clarissa thrashed wildly, shouting, “She’s just dead weight! I’ve never wanted to see her! Why can’t you forgive me? You’ve turned my brother against me!”
Her hand came up to strike me. I blocked it, but then her foot shot out, slamming into my belly.
The force knocked me backward. I crashed into the monitor.
Pain ripped through my lower abdomen, and I felt the sudden, terrifying rush of warm blood.
I looked down. A scarlet stain spread across my gown.
“Doctor! Nurse! Hurry! She’s pregnant!”
I heard the nurse’s shout and saw Adrian’s face drain of color.
I clutched my belly, the world spinning violently around me.
When I woke up again, a nurse stood at my side.
“Your son’s condition has stabilized,” she said softly. “But… your baby… I’m sorry.”
I laughed then until tears streamed down my face.
A month ago, it was because of this child that I softened and returned to Adrian.
I had planned to wait until the baby was three months along before telling my husband—and to demand that Clarissa be sent abroad.
After the car accident, the baby was unharmed. I thought he was lucky.
But now, one child lay in a coma, and the other… was gone—both because of those Whitmore siblings!
I lay back on the bed, closing my eyes.
At that point, no more tears would fall.
