Chapter 2

The first person to arrive at the crash scene was Ian, who was off duty that day. I lay there motionless, gasping for air as I reached out to him.

"Save our baby, Ian, please," I begged.

I could feel the life slipping away from my stomach, and it cried out desperately for help.

Ian didn't even glance at me. He ran straight to Imogen and pulled her into his arms.

I saw it clearly. Imogen had known the car was coming. She had dodged quickly, which was why she only had a few scrapes.

But Ian acted like the world had ended. His eyes were red as he comforted her, telling her the pain would go away soon.

I tried to crawl over to them, but I had no strength left. I could only call out weakly, "Ian..."

I thought even the cruelest animal wouldn't hurt its own young. He wouldn't leave me here.

But to my shock, Ian just glanced at me with obvious disdain.

He said, "It's just a little bleeding. You'll be fine.

"Imogen is afraid of pain. I'll come back for you later."

I kept waiting until the sun finally set and my whole body went cold. I was so numb that I couldn't even cry anymore.

That last shred of hope finally faded. Ian never came. He never even called an ambulance. A passerby found me and took me to the hospital, and my baby was gone.

Tears fell silently onto the blanket. I had pulled the covers over my head and was crying my heart out when Ian walked in, supporting a limping Imogen.

Ian's expression was still filled with revulsion, but Imogen grabbed my hand at once and pleaded with me desperately.

She said, "Esme, I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to hurt you. I had no idea the car was coming.

"I know I was wrong, but I never wanted to kill anyone. Ian knows. I wouldn't even hurt an ant."

In the light from the lamp, I saw her delicate, innocent-looking face. It was nothing like the face she had worn the day before.

From the moment of the crash until now, Ian had stayed by her side, taking such good care of her that her cheeks were full and rosy.

But at that same time, my baby had turned to blood, gone without a sound.

"Get out. I don't want to see you," I snapped.

I threw my pillow at her. She let out a startled gasp but bit down hard on her lip, putting on a look like she'd take whatever punishment I wanted to give her.

Ian couldn't take it anymore. He helped Imogen up and threw the pillow right back at me.

"Have you had enough? Imogen's already apologized so thoughtfully. What more do you want from her? There's a limit to everything, Esme. Don't go overboard," Ian snapped.

Looking at his eyes blazing with anger, I almost laughed.

Ian probably didn't even know, right up until that moment, that I'd had a miscarriage.

In his eyes, I had just had a little bleeding, a minor injury.

"Ian, I'm disgusted that I ever loved someone like you." I stared straight into his eyes as I spoke.

Ian's gaze darkened, and then he let out a low, bitter laugh.

"Esme, this little game of playing hard to get is so pathetic. A vicious woman like you isn't even fit to hold a candle to Imogen. I'm really curious how you'll clean up your mess," he said.

With that, they walked out of the ward. I pulled out my phone and scrolled aimlessly until I found my aunt Camille Craig's number. I dialed.

"Camille, I'll go abroad," I said.

"I won't be coming back," I added.

Camille was the only family I had left in this world, so when she heard the news, she was thrilled.

She said, "Esme, I told you this a long time ago. Our own happiness matters more than any marriage. Welcome to the company.

"Get your paperwork done as soon as you can. See you in a week."

A year earlier, Camille had started her own company overseas, and it had been incredibly successful.

She had invited me to join her multiple times, but I had turned her down every time, using my marriage as an excuse.

But now, my heart had turned cold. It was time to choose a different path.

Two days later, I was discharged from the hospital. Ian never showed up, but my phone was blowing up with location updates from him, all thanks to Imogen.

She sent photos every single day without fail.

Imogen texted: [I went to the amusement park with Ian today. He said he wants to make up for everything I missed, and now he's treating me like his own kid.

[Ian's so sweet to me. He even let me stay in the guest room at your place.

[Wow, Esme, I'm so jealous of you. Ian can even cook, and it tastes amazing.]

I hadn't looked at the messages in days. When I opened them now, my eyes locked onto the bedroom Imogen was lying in.

That was the nursery I had prepared for my baby. Everything in there was something I had picked out myself and put together piece by piece.

Now Ian had moved the woman who killed my baby into that room.

It felt like my heart, already dead, was shattered beyond repair all over again. The pain hit me so hard that I nearly lost my balance.

Gemma hugged me tight, heartbroken, ready to storm over and tear them apart.

"This is just cruel. That was his kid, too," Gemma snapped.

"No, he wasn't," I replied.

I refused to acknowledge Ian as the father, my gaze empty and bleak.

The second he left me to die in that crash, he had lost any right to be my baby's father.

Gemma fell silent and walked me home. Even though I kept telling her I was fine, she was scared I'd get hurt and insisted on coming with me.

At least Ian had enough decency not to show his face. When I got home, the place was empty, but the faint scent hanging in the air told me someone had been here not long ago.

I fell asleep for a full day, and when I woke up, Ian was staring at me angrily.

"I texted you all day. Did you not see them? Esme, you've been throwing this tantrum long enough," he snapped.

For the first time, I didn't feel sad looking at that face that only ever knew how to blame me. I lifted my phone.

My inbox was overflowing with messages from Ian.

He had asked me what kinds of snacks girls liked, and when I didn't reply for hours, he had told me to make some and that he'd come pick them up that afternoon.