###Chapter 2
Every time before I miscarried, Renaldo would bring me a bowl of brown "pregnancy-stabilizing medicine," personally feeding it to me with eyes full of pity.
"Be good, drink it, so the baby can grow properly."
I always obediently drank it all and smiled at him.
Those medicines were not for preventing miscarriage at all.
I stumbled out of the club and took a taxi back to collect my mother's belongings.
Pushing open the door, I saw a pile of baby toys neatly folded on the bed, along with a half-finished, pale yellow sweater.
My mother was preparing a gift for her grandson, whom she had never met, until her death.
That afternoon, she held my hand, her eyes shining with anticipation, "This time, my precious grandson will definitely be born healthy. Then I'll quit dancing, retire and become his nanny."
She handed me a bank card, "The Robbins Family is wealthy, but Renaldo works hard to support them. This is my life savings; give it to him for help, but don’t let him know."
Such a good mother, killed two days later by the driver Renaldo hired.
He even amputated her legs and gave them to someone else, lying to me that her legs were mangled beyond recognition.
I drifted off to sleep on my mother's bed and when I woke up at dawn, I clutched the unfinished sweater, tears streaming down my face.
"Mom... I'll make them pay for this in blood."
"Pay for what?" Renaldo's voice suddenly rang out from behind me.
He strode in and pulled me into his arms. "I've already dealt with the driver who caused the accident. Deana, you're pregnant; you can not be so agitated, it'll hurt your health."
This embrace, which I once cherished so dearly, now reeked of a nauseating perfume. I used all my strength to barely manage to pull myself out of his arms.
"Honey, I'm so tired... I want to be alone for a while."
He looked at me silently for a moment, his gaze falling on my swollen eyes, then turned and gestured towards the door.
A maid came in carrying a bowl.
The moment I saw that brownish hue, I involuntarily shrank back.
Renaldo's arms wrapped around my waist like iron hoops, immobilizing me.
He ignored the fear spreading in my eyes, his voice cruelly calm, "Deana, drink your medicine to prevent miscarriage, then get some sleep."
"I won't drink it." I heard my voice tremble. "Please... Renaldo!"
The doctor warned me that another miscarriage might mean I could never get pregnant again. He knew better than anyone how much I longed to be a mother.
But he simply held the rim of the bowl to my lips, "Drink it, be good."
Fear overwhelmed me and I screamed like a dying beast, "Renaldo, are you going to kill my child again?!"
He paused almost imperceptibly for a moment.
But the next second, with a single glance from Renaldo, two servants forced me down onto the bed.
He gripped my chin, prying open my tightly clenched teeth.
"Don’t be afraid," his breath brushed against my ear, his words icy and chilling, "No matter what happens, I will take care of you for the rest of my life."
The bitter liquid was forced down my throat.
The girl who had been completely devoted to him since she was fifteen was finally, in this moment, strangled to death by his own hands.
I vomited up the medicine and with my last breath screamed, "No, I will definitely leave you!"
His hand, which was wiping the medicine stains from the corner of my lips, suddenly froze.
He looked at me with a complicated expression, as if he wanted to say something. Just then, his phone rang.
On the other end came Edwina's tearful cry, "Renaldo, my leg hurts so much, is something wrong? I'm so scared."
He glanced at the phone, then looked up at me and finally just tucked the blanket around me.
"There's an emergency at the company, I have to go. You get some rest."
I closed my eyes tightly and turned my back to him.
His footsteps faded away without hesitation.
I did not know how much time passed, but a sudden, excruciating pain, like my internal organs were being torn apart, surged from deep within my lower abdomen, more intense than ever before.
Before my consciousness was swallowed by darkness, I instinctively dialed his number.
"Renaldo... my stomach hurts so much... please... come back..."
His answer was so resolute, "The company is too busy, I can not leave. Have the driver take you to the hospital."
Before I completely lost consciousness, a woman's short, soft moans on the other end of the phone were muffled by a hand.
