Chapter 2

The next morning, I went straight to a private clinic and terminated the pregnancy without hesitation.

After the anesthesia wore off, I lay in the hospital bed and stared out the window at the bright sunshine.

I didn't feel any soul-crushing grief. All I felt was a lightness I had never known before.

I opened my tablet and calmly reviewed the financial statements from an investment bank.

Everything was going according to plan. Several of Charles' key properties had already been quietly mortgaged.

The door to my room slammed open with a bang.

Charles stormed in, radiating cold fury. His gaze landed on the surgical report displayed beside the bed, and his eyes went bloodshot with rage.

Charles snarled, "You actually got rid of it? That was our child!"

I didn't even look up. My fingers swiped across the tablet as I finished replying to an email.

I said flatly, "I told you, your genes aren't worth passing on. I didn't want it."

Charles looked like he'd punched a wall of cotton. That utter helplessness drove him over the edge.

He lunged forward, ripped the tablet out of my hands, and smashed it on the floor.

Charles snarled, "Evelyn, are you doing this because of those three rules? This whole hard-to-get act is disgusting."

I stared at the cracked screen and felt a pang of regret for the brand-new device, but I kept my voice flat.

I said, "Mr. Kingston, if you're just here to throw a tantrum, the psych ward is down the hall to the left."

Charles locked his eyes on mine, searching for any trace of the devotion and desperation he used to find there.

There was nothing.

He clenched his jaw and let out a cold laugh.

Charles said, "Fine. If you want to be heartless, then I'm done going easy on you.

"Grace's anemia flared up again. The doctor says she needs a blood transfusion.

"Since you're already in the hospital, go donate 400 milliliters for her. Consider it your way of paying back what you owe the Kingston family."

If this had been before, hearing the man I loved demand my blood for another woman would have shattered me.

But now, I just thought he was pathetic.

I reached over and pressed the call button on the side of my bed.

I replied without hesitation, "Send a nurse to take me for the blood draw."

Charles froze for a moment. He hadn't expected me to give in so easily, and he watched me with suspicion in his eyes.

A few minutes later, I was sitting in the blood draw room.

Grace lay in the VIP suite next door, clinging to Charles' hand with a weak, trembling grip.

Grace whispered, "Charles, don't blame Evelyn. If she doesn't want to do it, I'd rather die than force her."

She played the fragile victim perfectly, and Charles looked at her with nothing but heartbreak in his eyes.

I just smiled coldly to myself. When the nurse turned away, I swapped the blood bag with one I'd prepared in advance, a pouch of concentrated animal plasma.

I'd paid a fortune to get it through the black market. It passed basic tests as human blood, but it would give the recipient a nasty rash for days.

After the draw, I walked back toward the ward.

I ran into Lucas in the hallway.

He had a limited-edition handmade bracelet hanging around his neck, something Grace had made for him herself.

But the blessed rosary beads I'd brought back for him after walking on my knees through three churches to have it consecrated was lying on the floor at his feet like a piece of trash, and he'd been kicking it around.

Lucas glared at me, his eyes full of hostility and entitlement. "Who wants your stupid necklace? The bracelet Grace gave me is a million times better than anything from you!"

He was only five, but Grace had already turned him into a little monster with no sense of boundaries.

A memory flashed through my mind of him curled up in my arms, crying for me when he had a fever.

But that last shred of motherly love vanished the second he kicked my rosary beads across the floor.

I walked over and stopped in front of the shattered beads.

Lucas lifted his chin, his face full of defiance. "What are you looking at? Only a fake like you would treat that piece of junk like it's something special!"

I let out a quiet laugh. I did not break down, and I did not feel any dramatic surge of grief.

I lifted my foot and ground it into the shattered rosary beads right in front of him, crushing them into the floor.

"You're right," I said. "Total junk."

Lucas froze.

He had expected me to burst into tears, pick up the pieces, and throw myself at him with some tearful apology about what a terrible mother I'd been.

But my calm indifference threw him off. Something close to panic flickered across his face.

"You broke it!" he shrieked, puffing himself up to hide the tremor in his voice. "I'm telling Dad!"

I didn't even look at him. "Go ahead. And while you're at it, tell him to stop sending this garbage my way. It's an eyesore."

I walked past him and stepped into the elevator.

If Lucas was so desperate to play the devoted son for Grace, then fine. I'd let him.

When Charles finally went bankrupt, I hoped Grace would still have enough pocket change to buy Lucas those limited-edition bracelets he loved so much.