A message popped up on Kennedy's phone.
Marianne glanced at it and caught a glimpse of his reply: [Oh, she loves it! Suzie, you did a great job picking that gift!]
She couldn't help but notice how this usually cold and distant man now had a phone full of cute cat emojis.
With a blank expression on her face, she shut the phone and tossed the gift box aside. No yelling, no crying—just a suffocating silence.
For once, Kennedy was caught off guard. Something about Marianne seemed… different.
"Now that I gave you the gift, I should get back—Suzie needs me. She can't handle things on her own."
He said it like he was testing her, waiting for a reaction.
But Marianne's voice came out calm. "Kennedy, let's break up."
Her expression was unreadable. Her words sounded like she'd practiced them a hundred times.
Kennedy blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm serious," Marriane replied. "Let's end this, Kennedy."
Her eyes, usually soft and timid, now gleamed with an unfamiliar resolve.
"You're breaking up with me because I stayed with Suzie when she wasn't feeling well? Is that it?" His face turned red as he grabbed her wrist tightly. "Don't forget—without me, how will you even survive? I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Don't bring it up again."
She didn't understand. 'Isn't this what he wanted? Shouldn't he be relieved I'm the one walking away?'
Before she could say anything, Kennedy's phone buzzed again. This time, a series of texts lit up the screen.
[Uncle Ken, you don't need to come take care of me. I'll be fine.]
[By the way, how do I turn off the gas stove? Uncle Ken, the house smells weird…]
The text made his face pale. Letting go of Marianne's wrist, he grabbed his keys and bolted for the door.
The sudden movement knocked Marianne off balance, and she stumbled, her hand brushing against the gift box she'd prepared. The lid fell open, revealing a tiny pink bunny-themed baby outfit.
Kennedy paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder. "What's that?"
A flicker of panic crossed Marianne's face, but she quickly smirked and said sarcastically, "What else? A bunny costume. Why don't you let your darling Suzie wait, and we can have some fun instead?"
Kennedy scowled. "Suzie might be in danger, and this is what you're thinking about? Marianne, do you even have a heart?"
With that, he slammed the door behind him. The loud bang made Marianne's stomach churn.
"Yeah, I guess I don't have a heart anymore," she muttered to herself. "It's been broken beyond repair long ago."
Slowly, she stood up, gathered the baby clothes, and called an orphanage to come pick up a donation.
If Kennedy had stopped—just for a second—he would've seen what those clothes meant. But he couldn't even spare her a moment.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed. A message from Dr. Obrien.
[Marianne, based on your health, it's best to schedule the procedure around the 50th day of your pregnancy.]
Marianne still had to wait 20 more days. That thought made her restless.
Her plan had been simple: break up, get the procedure, and leave Kennedy's place.
But now she had to hide her pregnancy, find work quickly, and build up enough money to escape the Brydens for good.
At the same time, the doctor was texting Kennedy.
[Kennedy, I've been stalling as much as I can. Do something before it's too late. Take care of Marianne and fix this.]
Confused, Kennedy frowned at the message. 'Stalling for what?' he wondered.
But he was so busy that he could only glance at the text and turn his phone off.
He was on set, helping Suzanne prepare for her audition.
Out of respect for the famous actor, the director had agreed to let the young girl play a small supporting role.
"Uncle Ken," she whispered. "I'm so nervous my stomach's acting up. Did you bring the meds?"
Kennedy froze. The painkillers—he'd left them with Marianne the night before.
For a brief moment, her face flashed in his mind, and he felt something heavy settle in his chest.
