Chapter 4

These past few days, the dragging pain in my lower abdomen had become more frequent.

I'd spent four hours making chicken soup, packing it in a thermos, planning to take it to the hospital to eat after my checkup.

But at the intersection, on impulse, I had the driver change course to Dominic's studio.

The receptionist saw it was me and respectfully let me through.

I carried the thermos and walked to his private consultation room.

The door wasn't fully closed, leaving a small gap.

Vivian's soft voice drifted out: "Dominic, you spent fifty million to buy back the Blackwell…