Drops of blood slid down my palm and splattered onto the pristine white carpet, blooming like crimson plum blossoms—beautiful and brutal.
That's when Serena came back.
She saw the blood on my hand and froze for a second before rushing forward to grab my wrist.
"What's wrong with you? Have you lost your mind again?"
She pulled out the first-aid kit, ready to bandage my hand. Her brow furrowed, and for a moment, there was something almost like genuine concern in her expression.
My whole body trembled. I wanted to scream. I wanted to demand answers. I wanted to lunge at her and tear her apart.
But I had no strength left.
"Just go," I said. "Go be with Nathaniel."
"I don't need you here."
Her phone rang. Nathaniel, no doubt, playing the victim again.
Without a moment's hesitation, Serena answered and hurried out the door.
I called Mason and told him to bring the car around.
"Take me to the estate."
Time to collect what was mine.
When I appeared at the gates of the Wiley estate with the child in my arms, the entire family erupted.
Grandparents on both sides. Uncles. Aunts. Everyone swarmed around us.
"Oh, my precious great-grandson!"
Grandmother carefully lifted the boy from my arms, her face splitting into the widest smile I'd seen in years.
"This child is... from when you two went abroad? That year you stayed overseas?"
Grandfather was so overcome that his hands shook. He looked at me with eyes brimming with pride and approval.
"You had a baby behind our backs! And kept him hidden for three whole years!"
I explained that the child had been sickly, requiring treatment abroad. We'd kept it quiet until he was healthy enough to bring home.
No one questioned the story.
No one knew that my heart had already died—back in that cold, sterile hospital room, alongside the child who never drew breath.
Grandfather glanced at the empty doorway, confused. "Where's Serena?"
"Busy, I suppose." I kept my voice light, indifferent. "Haven't seen much of her lately."
The rewards the elders heaped upon me were staggering.
Grandmother brought out her most treasured possessions—the jade signet ring she'd kept locked away for decades, antique calligraphy scrolls, paintings worth small fortunes. One piece after another, each priceless.
Grandfather transferred five percent of Wiley Group's shares directly into my name, making me the youngest member of the board overnight.
I smiled and accepted everything.
All of it was mine by right.
Paid for with my child's life.
No one knew that in the deepest corner of my walk-in closet, I had carved out a small, hidden space.
There were no expensive watches there. No designer suits.
Just a tiny memorial tablet, carved from red sandalwood.
No name was inscribed on it.
Before the tablet sat a wooden rattle drum I'd bought with my own hands—a gift I would never get to give. Beside it lay a few pitifully small baby clothes.
Every night, when the house fell silent, I would lock myself inside that closet.
I would hold that small wooden tablet and run my fingers over it, again and again.
Baby, Daddy's here.
Baby, Grandma and Grandpa bought so many toys today. If you were here, you'd have them too.
Baby, do you blame Daddy? Daddy was useless. Daddy couldn't protect—
I never cried aloud. I just let the tears fall in silence, soaking into the wood I clutched against my chest.
There was a hole where my heart used to be. A wound that would never heal. Cold wind howled through it endlessly, and the pain made it impossible to breathe.
That was my secret. Mine, and my lost child's.
Serena came back to the estate too, but she didn't dare come near me.
In front of the entire family, Grandfather pointed his cane at her and berated her publicly. Her husband and child had come home, and she couldn't even bother to show her face.
She was ordered to kneel in the family shrine for the entire night.
She probably couldn't understand it—how the Otis Wiley who once loved her desperately, who let her wrap him around her finger, had suddenly become this.
