Sebastian frowned. "Didn't we agree not to talk business at home?"
He was just about to read the document closely when a phone call cut him off.
Even though he hung up quickly, I had already seen the caller ID—Sabrina.
He set the papers aside, grabbed the containers of porridge, and headed for the door.
I tugged on the hem of his shirt. "You haven't signed the documents."
I had never spoken to him so firmly before. My sudden insistence annoyed him, and guilt flickered briefly across his expression. With a click of his tongue, he flipped straight to the last page, scrawled his signature, and tossed the papers into my arms.
"Such a hassle. There—you happy? If you have any small business deals, just use my seal directly. Anything under a million is yours to play with."
Before I could respond, his phone rang again. He grabbed the porridge and rushed out, answering the call as he walked.
I looked at the messy dining table—everything half-eaten, half-packed—and let out a bitter laugh.
If he cared about me even a little, he would have noticed that the document he just signed was a divorce agreement.
But he didn't notice anything.
He didn't even hesitate to take Sabrina's call while I was standing right there—afraid she might wait for even a second.
I boiled myself a bowl of noodles. The rising steam blurred my vision.
After eating, I mailed the divorce agreement to my lawyer. Then I called the assistant my father arranged for me.
"A week from now," I reminded her softly, "my father said he would sign the fragrance-ceremony collaboration with the Mitchell family, right?"
"Yes, Miss Young."
"Tell my father the collaboration with Sebastian is canceled. But the ceremony will continue—only the partner will be announced live, by me."
The assistant hesitated, but soon replied, "Understood."
"Also... book me an abortion surgery."
There was a pause. But she didn't question me.
I placed a trembling hand on my lower abdomen—where a tiny life had just been lost.
My sister and I grew up depending on each other. We always dreamed of having a child, a family of our own.
I knew that after terminating this pregnancy, with my damaged health, I might never conceive again.
But I didn't regret it.
I would have a family now—my father, my mother. I didn't need to cling to Sebastian anymore. And I didn't want to bring a child into the world carrying his face.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door to my deceased son's room.
I wanted to tidy up his things.
But the moment I saw his little clothes, I collapsed to my knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
When I became pregnant with Jacob, I thought I finally saw hope. I had fulfilled my sister's last wish. I believed I had gained my husband's love.
Maybe, after that, I could finally become myself, not just "my sister's shadow."
But perhaps it was heaven punishing me.
Our first child—my sweet Jacob—was diagnosed with aplastic anemia.
The doctors said his only hope was a bone marrow transplant.
I waited for five long years.
For five years, I begged every hospital, donated every cent I could, praying that somewhere—anywhere—there was a matching donor.
Then one day, the hospital finally called. They had found a match.
Overwhelmed with gratitude, I knelt to thank the donor's family and repeatedly confirmed with the hospital that everything would proceed smoothly.
But in the end... my son died on the operating table.
Sebastian told me the bone marrow donation paperwork had issues. The hospital didn't have time to verify it, so the marrow was allocated to someone else.
That delay... cost my child his life.
I believed him.
I blamed myself endlessly for not double-checking everything. I lived in guilt and grief for years.
I thought it was fate. A cruel coincidence. That perhaps Jacob and I simply didn't have enough time together.
But the truth... The truth was a serrated blade, ripping me apart.
This morning, when I discovered I was pregnant again, I was ecstatic.
After confirming the baby was healthy, I rushed to the company parking lot, wanting to surprise him.
But when I opened his car door, the first thing I saw was a half-opened box of condoms tossed on the passenger-side floor mat.
My hands went numb. My mind blanked.
And then I heard laughter.
At the parking lot entrance, I watched helplessly as Sebastian wrapped one arm around Sabrina's waist, the other hand cradling the back of her head, kissing her deeply.
She giggled breathlessly. "Seb... someone might see..."
He chuckled. "So what? We haven't done it in so long. Don't you miss me? By the way, how's Jacob's bone marrow settling in your body?"
The world spun violently around me.
Not only was he cheating...
But his words—Jacob's bone marrow... in her body?
What did he mean?
Sabrina smiled coquettishly. "Perfectly fused. I heard you even gave the doctor two million to keep quiet. You're so generous."
He stroked her hair, his voice gentle. "It's nothing. A sickly child from a woman I don't love will never be as important as you."
My heart clenched so hard I couldn't breathe.
So the one bone marrow match that could have saved Jacob had been stolen by him. And he gave it to her!
Sabrina asked sweetly, "If she gets pregnant again, would it affect our baby's status?"
He sneered, "No. I already made arrangements. The vitamins and supplements she takes—I replaced them. She can't get pregnant."
She pouted. "Poor her... If she learns the truth, wouldn't she want to die?"
"How could she?" Sebastian laughed coldly. "She's an orphan. No one would marry her except me. She should be grateful I give her a roof over her head. Why would she still dream of having a child to tie me down?"
My right hand trembled violently—a side effect of the countless hormone injections I had endured. I remembered all the bitter pills I swallowed, all the mornings I forced myself to smile in the mirror, all the needles I stabbed into my own skin trying to conceive.
I blamed myself. I doubted my own body. Never once did I imagine he was the one sabotaging me.
He never intended for me to bear his child.
Outside the car window, the two of them pressed against his luxury Maybach, tangled together. The sound of their gasps, the rustle of clothes, the slap of skin against the car—It all blurred into the most sickening nightmare of my life.
