Chapter 1

Laura sat on the bed, resting her hands on her flat abdomen. The doctor told her that the "fertility supplements" she'd been taking in the past three months were actually destroying the environment that her baby needed for survival.

"Let's get a divorce," she said and pushed the divorce papers toward Trevor.

Paula, Trevor's mother, slammed the table and yelled, "No! Trevor married you just to have children!"

Laura smiled. She pointed to the starry sky outside the window and said, "I used to imagine how bright the stars were, but now I finally understand that I'm the true light within myself."

As she boarded the international flight with her suitcase in hand, a message from Trevor popped up: [Come back if you're done with your little drama.]

*****

The acrid smell of antiseptic burned Laura's nose. Though she was in a coma, she could hear the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

She tried to raise her hand to touch her aching belly, but even her fingers were trembling uncontrollably. Five hours ago, when she had tumbled down the stairs, her hands protecting her belly could still clearly feel the movements of her three-month-old baby.

"Mr. James, after this miscarriage, Mrs. James's endometrium is now as thin as paper," said the doctor who flipped through the medical records. He paused at the phrase "recurrent miscarriage", tapped on the paper with his pen, and added, "The experimental ovulation drugs you requested clearly list ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome as a side effect. In severe cases—"

"You mean she can never have babies again?" asked Trevor. His emotionless voice sent a violent shudder through Laura's body.

She recognized her husband's voice, but now it held no trace of concern. "The bone marrow matching experiment for Ms. Ivanova's son can't be delayed. Last year's embryo wasn't active enough. This time, we must ensure success," he said.

The doctor adjusted his glasses as the rustling of the medical records in his hand filled the room. He said, "But this is Mrs. James's third miscarriage—"

"So what?" Trevor's leather shoes clacked against the floor, each strike hammering Laura's eardrums.

She peeked through her lashes at Trevor, who stood up straight in front of her bed, gripping the corner of her medical records firmly. "Zora's son can't wait. Since Laura married me, she must fulfill her duty," he said coldly.

There was a sudden beep.

Trevor's phone buzzed, shattering the tense silence.

Trevor pulled out his phone. The blue glow of the screen made his jawline look even more angular. He glanced down at Laura as he spoke. "Is it done? Make sure there are no loose ends. The remaining payment will be wired to your account tomorrow."

Laura dug her nails deep into her palm.

Three years ago, when she "accidentally" fell down the stairs, Trevor was abroad on business. Two years ago, when she "slipped" while carrying soup, he claimed to be in an emergency meeting. But today, when she fell for the third time, she saw it clearly. The hand that pushed her down the stairs was wearing a cuff with the James Group's logo embroidered on it.

"Bring the medicine." Trevor's icy voice interrupted her trembling.

The doctor took out a silver medicine box from his briefcase, his fingers trembling slightly as he handed it over. "One tablet a day with warm water. It would be best if Mrs. James remained unaware of the ingredients," he warned.

"Got it," Trevor replied as he stuffed the box into his suit's inner pocket. As he turned, his sleeve brushed against the back of Laura's hand.

She flinched instinctively, only to hear Trevor adopt a gentle tone and say, "Laura, are you awake?"

Laura slowly opened her eyes and saw Trevor leaning over her. His fingertips caressed her temple, and the concern in his eyes was so perfectly performed.

She felt like crying as she recalled how, just last night, Trevor held her hands and whispered, "Once the baby is born, we'll go on a vacation at the seaside." Only now did she realize that he'd been eyeing the embryo in her womb all along, like eyeing a herb that was about to mature.

Trevor tucked the blanket around her. His fingers gently brushed away her tears. In a soft voice, he said, "The doctor said you're just exhausted. Once you get better, we can have another baby."

"Okay." Laura forced a smile. The tang of blood flooded her mouth.

She stared at Trevor's bulging inner suit pocket and thought about the doctor's warning about "ovarian hyperstimulation." She might suffer from abdominal dropsy and chest pain, and her body might swell up. But to Trevor, all of this was just the "necessary cost" to ensure embryo viability.

The beeping of the heart monitor suddenly accelerated. Trevor frowned, stood up, and pressed the bedside call button. "Nurse, come check on Laura. Her heart rate's too high," he said.

Laura stared at him as he turned, pinching her own palm hard.

She thought of the unsigned immigration forms still sitting in her drawer. Just yesterday, her friend Sherry had mentioned finding her an apartment with a garden in Wrafeld.

Looking back, the signs should have been clear: the way Trevor was conveniently away each of the three times she miscarried, how his mother Paula only ever asked when she'd try again, and how new treatment plans for Orion, Zora's son, always surfaced right when she became pregnant.

"Mrs. James?" the nurse called softly as she wheeled in the medication cart, finding Laura staring at the swaying leaves outside the window.

Trevor was already gone. On the nightstand, there was a glass of warm water with a white pill floating on the surface, exactly the same as those in the silver box the doctor had given him.

She stared at the glass of water, feeling bitter.

Three years ago, after her first miscarriage, she cried and pleaded, "Can we stop having babies?" Trevor held her and shed tears.

Two years ago, after the second miscarriage, his eyes were red as he said, "Sorry, I didn't take good care of you."

But now she finally knew that all those tears were just a catalyst, pushing her to try again and again.

"Mrs. James, would you like some water?" the nurse asked. As she reached for the glass, Laura suddenly seized her wrist.

The nurse was startled by her icy hand, and then she noticed Laura staring at the pill at the bottom of the glass. Laura's voice was weak. "Could you empty the glass for me? I don't want to drink it anymore."

The nurse hesitated, casting a furtive glance toward the hallway before finally pouring out the water.