“Ryan, is *this* what you have for me?”
Holding up her phone, she let the ultrasound image glow on the screen. Ryan clearly hadn’t expected Ruth to flaunt it in Lucy’s face. His face fell, a portrait of pure awkwardness.
“Lucy, calm down. Don’t touch her.”
“We… we drank too much that night. It was an accident.” He sighed helplessly as Lucy’s face paled further. “I told her to get rid of it, but she absolutely refused.”
“Losing our baby… it pains me, too. But look at it this way—when this child is born, you’ll be its mother.”
“What’s more, my family desperately needs an heir. Lucy, please… be gracious. Do this for me, all right?”
“Ryan, our child is *dead*. She was so small… only seven months.”
“How dare you—”
Tears blurred her vision. The air inside the car grew thick and stifling, the rest of her words choking in her throat, too vile to speak.
“The baby’s buried. What’s the point of dwelling on it now?” Ryan’s voice sharpened with impatience. “Are you going to mourn for the rest of your life?”
Listening to him, Lucy’s heart felt like a candle guttering out on its last inch of wick—the flame dying slowly, steadily.
He was right. What *was* the point?
The car soon pulled into the estate. They entered the house one after the other, each weighed down by private thoughts.
Ryan noticed Ruth’s absence immediately. Strange.
Since Lucy became pregnant, they had slept separately.
She walked to her own bedroom and opened the door—only to find Ruth inside, mopping the floor.
The girl looked like she’d been at it for hours. Sweat beaded her forehead; her face was flushed.
Seeing Lucy, she quickly put on a fawning expression, her voice meek. “Madam, I’ve finished cleaning your room.”
The sight pierced Ryan’s heart. He pushed past Lucy and pulled Ruth into his arms.
“I told you not to do heavy work while pregnant! Why won’t you listen?”
“Lucy, what is the meaning of this?”
Lucy shook her head frantically. “I never asked her to… I’ve barely even seen her!”
Ruth swayed weakly against him. “Ryan, don’t ask… I’m fine…”
“Silly girl, you’re carrying a child. Tell me who bullied you. I’ll make it right.”
She didn’t speak, only buried her face in his chest and wept—the very picture of pitiful vulnerability.
“Lucy, didn’t I tell you not to bully her?!” he roared, anger blazing. “She’s pregnant too. How can you be so cruel?”
Lucy had no defense. Even through her disappointment, the unfairness brought fresh tears. “What are you saying? You don’t believe me?”
“Ruth is pregnant. Why would she lie about something like this?”
Then, lowering his voice, he spoke softly to the girl in his arms. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. What do you want?”
“Sister Lucy has… a protection charm. It’s very pretty. I’d like one for our baby, too…”
“Lucy, consider it an apology. Go and get that charm for her. Personally.”
Lucy stood rooted to the spot, Ryan’s voice seeming to come from somewhere far away.
Seeing her immobile, his face darkened. “If you don’t apologize, I’ll blacklist Amy from every opportunity in this industry.”
Remembering her sister’s smile, Lucy finally relented.
“I’ll go.”
She hadn’t missed the triumphant glint in Ruth’s eyes. She was just… tired.
Two thousand steps, each one climbed in the driving rain, pouring salt on the wound of her already difficult recovery.
She finally obtained the so-called protection charm. Soaked to the bone, she presented it to Ruth herself. The girl glanced at it and tossed it aside. “Ryan, that thing looks dirty. I don’t want it anymore.”
The last thing Lucy heard before darkness swallowed her was Ryan’s voice:
“Then don’t have it. As long as you stop crying, sweetheart.”
