I didn’t know what Samantha had said on the phone, but the next second, Randall’s expression changed.
“You’re at the hospital? What’s wrong? Where do you feel uncomfortable?”
He only had time to say one hurried sentence to me. “Tara, calm down. I’ll go check on Samantha and come right back.”
Then he turned and left.
He didn’t see the hand I was clutching with gauze—already soaked through with blood from rushing back and forth.
He didn’t ask if it hurt.
In his eyes, my injury and my brother’s life meant nothing compared to a single sentence from Samantha: “I don’t feel well.”
But I clearly remembered how things used to be. Back then, if I so much as nicked the skin beside my nail while cooking, he would notice immediately, panic setting in, his eyes turning red with worry.
How did it ever become like this?
When did the lie really begin—seven years ago, or after Randall moved back to his parents’ home?
‘Randall. Why won’t you agree to break up?!’
Those questions crushed over and over in my mind.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make sense of it.
Just then, my phone rang. It was a call from the obstetrics and gynecology department, reminding me to pick up my follow-up test results.
In that instant, my head buzzed.
My memory snapped uncontrollably back to the fifteenth time our marriage registration had failed.
That time, I had been knocked to the ground by a dog that suddenly went berserk on my way home. Blood everywhere. The child I had just conceived was gone before I even knew I was pregnant.
I slowly placed my hand over my lower abdomen.
A chill seeped into my limbs like poison.
And yet, I still couldn’t help thinking, ‘Maybe that time really had been an accident.’
No matter how cold-blooded someone was, they wouldn’t lay a hand on their own child… right?
But when I reached the obstetrics department, I saw Randall and Samantha walking out side by side.
They didn’t notice me at all.
“Randall, I’m already pregnant with your baby,” Samantha said softly, her voice tinged with grievance. “But I can only stay with you like this—without a name or a status.”
Randall lowered his voice as he comforted her. “There’s no choice, Samantha. Our relationship can’t see the light of day.”
“Back then, my dad and your mom were foster siblings who loved each other. With that kind of history, we can never go public.”
Samantha pouted, refusing to let him hold her.
Randall just smiled. He lowered his head and kissed the top of her hair, his tone gentle—and cruel.
“It’s fine. Even if I can’t marry you, so what?”
“My child will only ever be born by you.”
“As for Tara’s, didn’t I already arrange for a rabid dog to take care of it? And I won’t let her get pregnant again in the future.”
Samantha asked coquettishly, “What if she gets pregnant again by accident?”
Randall’s answer stabbed straight into my heart like a knife.
“She won’t.”
“I’ve been adding contraceptives to the vitamins she takes every day. The dosage is high.”
“She can’t get pregnant.”
“After she marries me, she’ll look like the glamorous wife of Atty. Hendershot to the outside world. But only we’ll know the truth—my lover is you, and my only heir will be your child.”
A piercing wave of tinnitus crashed over me. My legs gave out, and I slid to the floor.
And suddenly, I understood why he had refused to break up with me earlier.
At this moment, there was no room left for self-deception.
That child’s death had never been an accident. It wasn’t fate’s cruel joke.
It was a result that had been precisely calculated long in advance.
Done by Randall himself.
He hadn’t just plotted my life and manipulated my choices. Without my knowledge, he had slowly destroyed my body, piece by piece.
He had even used medication to cut off my ability to become a mother—turning me into someone who posed no “future risk” to him at all.
As that realization spread through my mind, I could barely breathe.
It felt like something heavy was crushing my chest. Seven years of memories surged forward all at once. Every detail I had once believed was tenderness and care now revealed its sharp, hidden edge.
Whether he had ever truly loved me no longer mattered.
All I knew was that the harm he had done to me was real.
I trembled with hatred, retching uncontrollably.
If I had a knife in my hand at that moment, I would have stabbed him without hesitation.
Just as my emotions were about to shatter what little reason I had left, a pair of polished leather shoes stopped in front of me.
A shadow fell, blocking the harsh corridor lights.
“Ms. Barnhart, we finally found you.”
The man’s voice was steady and restrained, carrying a presence that was impossible to ignore.
“I’m the lawyer who will be representing you in your upcoming case.”
He reached out and helped me up from the floor, his movements polite yet firm, then placed a business card in my hand.
I didn’t need to look down to recognize who he was.
Erwin Millstein.
Randall’s former classmate—and one of the peers he had feared most over the years. A rising star at a world-renowned law firm, famous for his calm precision, sharp tactics, and utter lack of mercy.
There was a professional smile on his face, but his eyes were deep and nearly cold, as if he had long grown accustomed to staring directly at the ugliest sides of human nature.
At that moment, I felt an unexpected sense of relief.
Like someone drowning, finally grabbing onto a piece of driftwood that wouldn’t break.
Almost instinctively, I clenched the sleeve of his suit, my fingers turning white with force. My voice was low, nearly a plea.
“Attorney… help me. I want Randall’s life completely ruined.”
If before, all I wanted was justice, then now, my resolve was clear and chillingly calm.
I didn’t want compensation.
I wanted payback. Blood for blood.
Erwin looked down at me, his gaze lingering on my face for a brief moment. Then he raised his hand and gently wiped the tears from the corner of my eye with his thumb.
“No one who stands in a courtroom is truly clean,” he said quietly. “Including Randall.”
“The outcome you want,” he continued, “I can guarantee it.”
I stared at him, my voice hoarse. “There are six days left. Is that enough time?”
Erwin smiled faintly. The smile never reached his eyes, but it carried an almost ruthless confidence.
“More than enough.”
“Perfect timing, actually. A week from now is Randall’s televised interview.”
“Let him fall off the cliff at the very peak of his glory. Doesn’t that sound fun?”
