My phone vibrated. It was a message from Joel Lowell.
A series of voice messages. When I played them, I heard his voice, choked with tears.
"Sienna, where on earth did you go? I was so worried about you."
"I was wrong yesterday. I shouldn't have taken that tone with you. But that decoration was my favorite, how could you just smash it like that?"
"Those words were just part of a game, why don't you believe me? Does our relationship of so many years mean less than a joke?"
'How ridiculous.'
He didn't even think the problem was with him and Ivy Seymour. Instead, he blamed me for not believing him.
I replied without expression, "Joel Lowell, do you really not know what our problem is? Stop playing dumb, it's pathetic."
The message had barely sent when Joel Lowell's call came in.
"Sienna, don't say that. I really know I was wrong."
On the other end of the line, his voice was laced with an urgent, tearful tone, sounding incredibly wronged.
"Please don't be angry, okay?"
Just then, a very faint gasp came from the other end of the line.
My hand holding the phone froze. I asked subconsciously, "What's going on over there?"
"N-nothing." His voice was a little unsteady.
Before he could finish, an irrepressible, soft moan came through the phone.
My mind exploded.
'I could practically picture the scene.'
He was on the phone apologizing to me, yet he was fooling around with another woman.
My knuckles turned white.
'The image in my mind made me sick.'
"Is Ivy Seymour with you?" I asked calmly.
He clearly panicked on the other end. Then, Ivy Seymour's flippant voice piped up:
"Ms. Sterling, don't get the wrong idea. I'm just here working out with Joel."
She continued shamelessly, "After all, you're so busy with work and never have time for him. As his bro, I've got to help him relax, right?"
Suddenly, there was a sharp CRASH, like a glass shattering on the floor.
It was followed by Ivy Seymour's low exclamation, feigning annoyance, "Hey! Be gentle…"
From the other end of the line came Ivy Seymour's smug little laugh.
"Sienna, the trainer's here! I… I have to go, I'll talk to you later!"
Joel Lowell said, flustered and panicked.
The call was hastily disconnected.
Listening to the dial tone, I felt my heart turn to ash for the first time.
I sat stunned on the bed as tears finally started to fall.
I don't know how much time passed before Wen's call came. Her tone was serious.
"Sienna Sterling, I have the results. You'd better prepare yourself."
My heart sank. My fingers, gripping the phone, turned white from the pressure.
"Three years ago, Ivy Seymour did have an abortion at a private hospital in Paris. On the surgical form, the name signed for the emergency contact was Joel Lowell."
"I also found that the day before the surgery, you transferred $8,000 to Joel Lowell's bank card. The note was… 'Family emergency.'"
My vision swam, and a ringing filled my ears.
'I remembered.'
That day, Joel Lowell had called me, crying, saying his mother had a sudden heart attack and urgently needed money for surgery.
I had been frantic, borrowing money from everyone I could, and sent it to him immediately.
So, the so-called "family emergency" was to pay for the abortion of his and Ivy Seymour's child.
And I was the generous benefactor who footed the bill.
Wen's voice continued, "I also found some other things. I've compiled them into a file and sent it to your email."
"Sienna Sterling… are you okay?"
I took a deep breath, forcing down the metallic, sweet taste in my throat.
"I'm fine. Wen, thanks."
After hanging up, I opened my email with trembling hands.
Photo after photo, each one slicing my heart to ribbons.
Them, kissing in front of the Louvre. Them, embracing on the banks of the Seine. Them, laughing sweetly in the lavender fields of Provence.
In one photo, Joel Lowell was hugging Ivy Seymour from behind, their hands overlapping on her lower abdomen. The caption read:
"In memory of our lost angel. Next time, Mommy and Daddy will protect you."
The post date was exactly three days after her abortion.
And on that day, I was at a work dinner, drinking until my stomach bled, all so I could afford to buy him a set of art supplies he'd been wanting for ages.
How laughable!
I fought back the urge to smash my computer and instead zipped and encrypted all the evidence.
