When Valentina finally opened her eyes, she found herself in a stark hospital room.
The doctor’s expression was heavy with regret. “Ma’am… you haven’t eaten in days. Your body couldn’t sustain the pregnancy. The baby… is gone. I’m truly sorry.”
Instinctively, she pressed her hand to her lower belly. The life that had just begun, now vanished.
Silent tears traced down her cheeks. Perhaps the child had sensed the storm between its parents… and chose to leave this world early.
“Ma’am, your body needs time to recover. Where is your husband? He should be here, taking care of you.”
Valentina steadied herself, her voice steady. “I don’t have a husband.” Then she added, “Doctor, what’s the minimum stay you recommend?”
She wanted to vanish from here as soon as possible.
“Three days,” he said.
Valentina nodded. Three days—just enough for Rafael to come for her. That would be enough.
As they spoke, the ward door swung open. Desmond stormed in, visibly winded from rushing over.
“Why are you here?”
The driver beside him opened his mouth to explain, but Valentina spoke first. “I hadn’t eaten in days. My body gave out… I collapsed.”
Selene’s mocking tone followed like a dagger. “Avy… it’s not like you grew up pampered. How did you end up so fragile?”
Desmond’s gaze softened, though his usual fury lingered beneath the surface. He looked at Valentina, pale and weakened.
“When did you get so stubborn? Admitting a mistake wouldn’t have killed you.
“And if you were unwell, why didn’t you call me?” There was a thread of blame in his voice.
Valentina only stared quietly, her heart wrapped in icy mockery.
Call him?
These past days, he had been wrapped around Selene. He had refused to let her eat, all to “teach her a lesson.” Calling him would have meant humiliation. There was no point.
Since she was leaving soon anyway, she offered a casual excuse.
“You were busy. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
For reasons she didn’t bother to acknowledge, Desmond felt a twinge of guilt at her words.
Perhaps realizing he had gone too far, he began visiting the hospital each day.
The morning of her discharge, Valentina spent her time texting Rafael.
Desmond noticed, frowning. She wasn’t the type to be glued to her phone—but lately, it hadn’t left her hand.
“Avy, who are you messaging?”
He reached for the phone, but she jerked it away. “Do you really need to read a lady’s private conversations?”
His hand retreated. “Enough with the phone. We’re leaving soon.”
“Mm,” she replied, expression unreadable.
For the past few days, he had treated her with gentleness—but Valentina knew it wasn’t love. It was guilt.
Once home, Desmond left after dropping her off. Valentina moved into the study, opened the safe, and placed the hospital’s miscarriage report inside.
She retrieved her notebook and wrote one final entry:
[100th disappointment: My baby is gone.]
She closed it. A divorce agreement. A resignation letter. A miscarriage report. One hundred sorrowful memories.
That was her wedding anniversary gift to Don Desmond Hackett.
After organizing everything, she packed her suitcase, left the villa keys on the dining table, and wiped her fingerprint from the smart lock.
Every trace of her existence within the Hackett estate—erased completely.
