Faye's smug expression twisted in irritation, but she quickly recovered, her lips curling into a chilling smile. Her gaze dropped to my stomach, dark and venomous.
"You still don’t know, do you?" she whispered, her voice sickly sweet. "My brother wants to use your umbilical cord blood to save me. I told him it was the only way."
I stiffened.
Faye tilted her head, eyes gleaming with cruelty. "But here’s the fun part… I don’t have a heart disease at all." She let out a soft laugh, each word laced with malice. "I just didn’t want you to have an easy life. So just sit back and watch as your child is taken from you and used for me."
My heart clenched with dread. A chill ran down my spine.
Before I could react, she did something unthinkable.
With one swift motion, Faye raised the heavy trophy—and stabbed herself in the chest.
Blood splattered. Warm droplets hit my face.
I froze.
Tristan had just driven out of the garage. He slammed the brakes, his face turning pale as he leaped out of the car.
"Faye!" His voice cracked with panic as he rushed to her side, cradling her blood-soaked body.
With trembling hands, Faye grabbed his sleeve, her eyes filled with unshed tears. Her voice was weak, fragile—like she was barely holding on.
"Brother… don’t blame Sister-in-law…" she gasped, each breath labored. "She just… couldn’t stand me winning the award… She acted on impulse… Don’t be mad at her…" Her lips quivered as she clutched her chest. "Brother… my heart… it hurts so much… Am I… going to die?"
Her performance was flawless.
The blood pooling beneath her looked terrifying, but I knew the truth—her wound was shallow. It wasn’t fatal. But Tristan didn’t see that.
His gaze snapped to me, burning with fury.
"Eliza, what did Faye ever do to deserve this?" His voice was ice, his body trembling with rage. "If anything happens to her, I will never forgive you."
I opened my mouth to explain, but he wasn’t listening. He scooped Faye into his arms and rushed her into the car, leaving me standing there in the cold.
Moments later, his men arrived. They seized me roughly, dragging me toward another car. I struggled, screamed, but it was useless. I was taken to the hospital against my will.
The moment Tristan saw me again, his hands clamped down on my shoulders. His eyes were bloodshot, his face twisted with grief and anger.
"Faye’s heart disease relapsed," he growled. "She needs umbilical cord blood immediately."
My breath caught.
Tristan’s grip tightened. "Since you hurt her, you’ll use yours to save her. That’s only fair."
He shoved me toward the doctor. I fought, twisting in his grasp, my voice shaking with desperation.
"She’s lying!" I cried. "She admitted it to me herself! She doesn’t have a heart disease! She planned all of this—don’t believe her!"
But he only looked at me with deep disappointment, as if I had done something unforgivable.
"Eliza," he said, his tone soft but firm, "when you do something wrong, you make amends. Isn’t that a simple truth?"
I shook my head violently. "Tristan, listen to me—"
He cut me off with a sigh, his expression weary.
"Faye isn’t a fool. She wouldn’t use her body just to deceive me." He cupped my face, wiping away my tears with his thumb, his touch unnervingly gentle. "Be good, Eliza. Listen to me."
Then came the words that shattered me completely.
"If you don’t have this child, then you don’t have it. We’re still young—we can always have another one. No matter what, I will only love you in this life."
A sob clawed its way up my throat. I begged him—pleaded for him to believe me—but he wasn’t listening. With a single wave of his hand, the doctor’s assistants dragged me away.
The cold metal of the hospital bed pressed against my back as I was forcibly strapped down.
"Don’t use anesthesia," Tristan ordered. "Perform the cesarean directly."
Terror gripped me.
I screamed. I thrashed. But I was powerless against them.
I felt everything.
The moment the scalpel sliced into my flesh, a white-hot pain ripped through me. Agony blurred my vision, but the true torment came when I saw them pull my baby from my body.
Too small. Too fragile. Too silent.
My child had no chance of survival.
A wretched cry tore from my lips as I reached out for him, but my arms were too weak. I could only watch, helpless, as his tiny body grew cold in the doctor’s hands.
The pain in my body was nothing compared to the pain in my heart.
Tristan didn’t stay.
The moment they retrieved the umbilical cord blood, he left—rushing to Faye’s side without a second glance at me.
The only ones who remained were the doctors, stitching up my broken body.
As soon as the wound was sutured, I forced myself out of bed, biting back the pain that burned through me. With trembling hands, I left the divorce papers on the table—cold, final, and utterly irreversible. Then, cradling my lifeless child in my arms, I walked away without looking back.
At the airport, I erased every trace of the Sinclair Family from my life. One by one, I deleted and blocked their contact information. Then, in one swift motion, I yanked out my phone card and tossed it into the trash, severing the last thread that tied me to them.
Tristan, in this lifetime, you will never find me again.
Meanwhile, in the hospital ward, Tristan was still by Faye’s side, fussing over her every need. Yet, a sudden, sharp ache clenched his heart. A strange emptiness settled deep within him, a gnawing void that left him restless.
For a fleeting moment, Eliza’s face flashed in his mind. He couldn’t understand why, but an unbearable sense of loss crept over him. And for the first time, he felt as though something—someone—had slipped away forever.
Tristan suddenly realized that he hadn’t visited Eliza since the operation. A faint unease crept into his heart—how was she doing now? Had she eaten? Was she in pain?
Lost in thought, he barely noticed when Faye called out weakly, her voice tinged with feigned concern.
"Brother, what are you thinking about? Are you worried about sister-in-law?" She forced a smile. "A C-section isn’t that painful. I even sent her a message just now—she said she’s already up and moving around. Maybe even jumping."
Faye was a doctor. Tristan trusted her words without question. The weight on his chest lifted, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
Eliza must be fine. She was strong. Once he settled Faye, he would go back to her. After all, she had suffered too much for him.
Just then, his assistant burst into the room, breathless and pale, gripping a document in his hands.
"Mr. Sinclair, bad news!" he panted, his voice laced with urgency. "Madam is missing—she left this for you."
