"Miss Bennett!"
Just as I was about to leave, a doctor called out to me.
I remembered him—half a month ago, Ethan Walker had been feeling unwell, and I’d dragged him in for a full physical. This was the very doctor who handled his checkup.
Ethan had been so wrapped up in Isabella Reed lately, I was sure he’d already forgotten about it.
"Mr. Walker’s test results are all in—everything is normal. But you mentioned he’d had a liver transplant, so we paid extra attention to that. Based on our examination, he’s never had any liver surgery at all…"
The world tilted beneath me.
The rest of the doctor’s words blurred into nothing.
I headed to confront Ethan, but when I reached Isabella’s hospital room, the truth came at me from behind the door.
"Ethan, Claire seems really upset. What if she decides to divorce you?"
"Don’t worry, she won’t."
"Claire Bennett might not have many other strengths, but she’s more obedient than a dog—never questions a word I say. She still believes I donated my liver to her. As long as I act a little pitiful, she’ll soften immediately."
"You’re the smart one—coming up with the idea to swap out the real donor forms for fake ones, making her think you were her savior so she’d devote herself to you for years."
"She’s the Bennett family’s heiress. Keep a tight grip on her, and we’ll never have to worry about resources for the rest of our lives."
So that was it.
Outside the door, my tears fell freely.
I’d been wrong.
So, so wrong.
Ethan Walker had never donated part of his liver to me.
I had approached him out of gratitude, chasing him with unwavering devotion, clearing every obstacle from his path.
But from the very beginning, it had all been a lie—a carefully planned scheme.
He had used me as nothing more than a vessel for him and his lover’s child.
Like a leech, once he latched on, he wouldn’t stop until he had drained me dry.
No. I would not let him succeed.
I wandered for a long time before finally calling my family back in New York.
"Dad, I accept your request. I’ll come back to take over the company."
"Also… I want to terminate the pregnancy. Please arrange it for me."
Since I had decided to divorce, there could be no half measures.
My father moved quickly, sending the Bennett Group’s chief legal advisor to Seattle to assist me. Robert Collins, who usually handled only corporate cases, took to the divorce proceedings with equal skill.
With his help, it took me only a week to wrap everything up.
Ethan never once came home during that time.
When it was done, I boarded a flight to New York.
The moment I landed, I went straight to the hospital.
At six months, I couldn’t have a simple abortion—it had to be an induction, a procedure that would take a heavy toll on my body.
My parents didn’t ask a single question. They simply held me and said in a choked voice, "Sweetheart, you must have suffered more than we can imagine. Sleep now—when you wake, everything will be better."
A parent’s embrace is always the warmest harbor.
My nose stung, and I nodded hard.
As the anesthesia spread through me, my consciousness began to fade.
—
Meanwhile, a few days later, Martha Walker returned home, carrying an armful of expensive “pregnancy tonics” she had bought from her so-called master.
But when she reached the door, she couldn’t get in—the code kept showing as incorrect.
Ethan, who hadn’t been home in days, got her call and rushed back with Isabella in tow.
Still, the door wouldn’t open.
He tried calling me several times, but I didn’t answer.
"That damn Claire Bennett is up to something," Martha muttered, kicking the door in frustration.
Suddenly, the door swung open from the inside.
