I opened my eyes again in a VIP hospital room. The doctor told me the impact had caused a miscarriage; the baby couldn't be saved. I was stunned for a few seconds before realizing I'd been pregnant without my knowledge.
The room door was open and I could hear the nurses talking in the hallway.
"Miss Brown is so lucky, but she was too shocked; Mr. Beckham stayed with her all night."
"But Mrs. Beckham suffered a fracture and miscarriage and Mr. Beckham didn't even come to see her. It's true, old flames can never compare to new ones."
"Who says otherwise? But I heard that someone who gossiped at the banquet and deliberately asked sarcastic questions, had her family's company suddenly investigated this morning; bankruptcy is imminent."
"And the two workers responsible for repairing the hotel chandeliers were taken away last night. It's said… Mr. Beckham personally intervened."
"Well, it seems Mrs. Beckham isn't entirely without a place in Mr. Beckham's heart."
I listened with my eyes closed, but my heart was ice-cold. Griffin did all this, not for me at all. It was simply because someone had dared to harm his wife on his territory, damaging the Beckham Family's reputation. If he truly cared, I wouldn't be sitting here listening to this gossip alone.
For the next three days, I stayed in the hospital. The news and social media, however, were abuzz. Griffin spent lavishly to comfort the frightened Quincy.
He held a solo exhibition for her at the city's art museum, even though Quincy's works seemed laughably naive to me, Suzy Flynn, a former art academy prodigy. He bought a set of jade jewelry, once in the collection of European royalty, at a high price at an auction, named it "Quincy," and presented it to her in an ostentatious display.
Just because Quincy casually mentioned liking Venice, he chartered a private jet, planning to take her there for a relaxing vacation.
I calmly scrolled past these notifications. I suddenly remembered that when we first got married, I had cautiously mentioned wanting to see the Northern Lights in Norway. Griffin was working on documents at the time and didn't even look up, "What's so interesting about that harsh, cold place? The company's busy; don't make any trouble."
After that, I never mentioned it again.
That afternoon, I called a nurse, dragged my still-recovering body, completed the administration alone and left the hospital.
Back in that cold villa, I entered the password and the lock beeped with an error message. I tried again; still wrong. The password had been changed.
I rang the doorbell and a few seconds later the door opened, but it wasn't a maid; it was Quincy. She was wearing soft loungewear, her long hair loosely tied up, like the lady of the house.
Seeing me return, she showed just the right amount of surprise, then smiled gently, "You back? Come in quickly, Griffin is helping me pick out a dress."
My gaze passed over her and landed on Griffin sitting on the sofa in the living room, holding a wedding dress catalog.
"Why did you change the password?" I asked coldly.
Quincy blinked, her voice soft, "Well, I've been a light sleeper lately and I'm always worried about safety. Griffin said to change the password to my birthday, so I feel more at ease. Suzy, you don't mind, do you?"
Griffin then looked up at the door, his brow furrowing slightly, "Why were you discharged from the hospital?"
Looking at his expression and reaction, I suddenly felt that even questioning him was superfluous. I couldn't stay a second longer and turned to leave.
"Where are you going?" Griffin's voice came from behind me.
I didn't turn around. "Griffin," my voice was soft, yet each word was clear, "Three days."
"What three days?"
"Three days from now is your birthday."
It would also the day I leave. I didn't finish the sentence. I turned and glanced at him, my eyes calm and unwavering, as if looking at a stranger.
"That day, I will give you a gift you will never forget."
