Chapter 2

After leaving the hospital bathroom, the taste of blood still lingered in my throat from throwing up.

At three in the afternoon, I pushed open the door to Andrew Gr's private lounge.

Andrew was sitting behind a large coffee table.

He raised his hand and pressed a remote control.

The screen behind him slid open to both sides.

He slid a stack of documents across the table to me.

They were Sterling Holdings' confidential medical records.

The black-and-white print was scattered across the table, making my eyes ache.

"Take a look at the special pregnancy tonic your husband had made for you," Andrew said, his voice icy. "Emily, are you still dreaming?"

The projection screen behind him suddenly lit up.

It showed a close-up of the drug analysis report.

Next to the complicated chemical formulas, the conclusion was marked in bright red.

It was a supercharged organ stimulant.

It wasn't meant to protect the baby. It was meant to force the baby to mature prematurely.

He was using my flesh and blood to cultivate organs for Sophie's transplant.

I stared at those red words.

A chill crept up my spine.

I shot to my feet.

I swept my arm across the table.

The analysis report and data files went flying, scattered everywhere.

Andrew watched me quietly.

He bent down and picked up the key report. "I thought you'd have figured him out by now, after all these years in the Sterling family.

"Even after being used, you don't have the slightest clue. How ridiculous is that?"

His eyes were full of disappointment.

I slumped back onto the sofa.

I felt the chill creeping into my hands and feet.

My eyes burned, and tears dropped onto the back of my hand.

The man I thought I could rely on had only ever treated me as an incubator.

A bone-deep loneliness crashed over me, drowning me in an instant.

I bit down hard on my lower lip.

My mind kept replaying last night: him sitting at the edge of the bed, holding that bowl of medicine, pretending to care as he coaxed me to drink it.

His broad palm gently rubbed my back.

He said it was all for the baby and me.

My hands were shaking as I fumbled for my phone in my bag.

I dialed Richard's number.

It rang for ages before he finally picked up.

"What is it now? His impatient tone came through the receiver. He didn't bother to give me a perfunctory answer.

I gripped my phone so hard that my knuckles turned pale.

I wiped the tears from my face.

"Richard, when are you coming home today?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"I've got a few projects at the office to deal with. I'm busy with things for our future," Richard said. "Stay put and take care of the baby. Don't let your mind wander," he ordered.

He hung up.

I slowly lowered my phone.

Cold sweat drenched my back, but I was painfully awake to the truth.

I looked up, my gaze sweeping past the chaos scattered across the floor.

Then, I looked Andrew straight in the eye. "Let me see Sophie's compatibility results."

I took the donor match report from Andrew.

It was a perfect HLA match.

This wasn't destiny.

Richard had singled me out from everyone, the ideal donor.

I was nothing more than his meticulously groomed pawn.

"Emily, don't go back there," Andrew said.

I didn't answer. I folded up that damning report and shoved it deep into my bag.

"Some debts can only be settled by going back," I said.

I pushed the door open and stepped outside. A light rain was falling.

The chill seeped straight into my bones.

When I got back to the Sterling villa, a pair of eye-catching red high heels was lying in the entryway.

They were Sophie's.

She was lounging on the living room sofa in a silk robe, looking completely at ease.

She was holding a pink surgery appointment slip.

"Emily, you're back?" She shot me a look, her smile practically oozing superiority.

She stood up slowly, planted herself at the bottom of the stairs, and waved the slip right in my face. "Richard already booked the surgery for me. It's set for the third of next month."

I locked my eyes on the date printed on the slip.

The third of next month was right when I'd hit five months pregnant.

That so-called pregnancy liquid was to get me in prime shape for her transplant.

"Surgery?" I forced down the bloody taste burning in my chest, my gaze icy. "What kind of illness makes you go to such lengths?"

"Obviously, it's the surgery that'll finally let me ditch this useless shell," Sophie said.

Sophie leaned in close, her crimson-tipped fingers deliberately brushing across my belly. "You'd better eat well and keep that baby healthy. Because, honestly, my life depends on you."

She laughed, humming a little tune as she waltzed off, full of herself, like she was the real lady of the house.

I stood frozen, my fingernails digging deep into my palms, pain biting through my skin.

I slipped off my shoes and walked barefoot across the thick carpet, every step silent and heavy.

I moved up the side stairs to the second floor, hollow and numb, like a wandering spirit.

Richard's study door was left slightly ajar.

I held my breath, pressing myself against the cold wall of the hallway. "Mr. Sterling, Ms. White's vital signs are dropping. We can't wait any longer."

It was John Smith's voice.

The so-called "benefactor" who always fussed over me, reminding me to take my medicine like he actually cared.

"How's Emily doing right now?" John Smith asked, his voice steady as he addressed Richard.

Richard's voice was calm and collected, like he was in total control of the situation.

"The catalyst has pushed her organs to their absolute peak. But because of this overdevelopment, the baby is draining her strength," John continued.

He paused, his tone growing colder. "If we don't end the pregnancy soon, her body will go into serious metabolic chaos. If her organs get damaged, they won't be any good for the surgery."

I pressed my hand hard over my mouth, fighting to keep the sobs from spilling out.

Tears sprang from my eyes in an instant, streaming down my face.

He was weighing my physical condition.

He didn't care if I lived or died.

He only cared if my kidneys and liver could be harvested, still in perfect shape, and transplanted into the woman he actually loved.

"Then do it," Richard said.

Richard didn't pause for a moment. "Is the plan for the 'accidental' miscarriage ready?

"It's ready. I'll schedule her prenatal checkup at the branch hospital next Wednesday. There are plenty of blind spots in the cameras. A little trip on the stairs..."

"Don't overdo it. It was enough..."

Richard cut him off, his voice icy. "I want the baby gone, but the mother alive. The surgery needs to go smoothly. She's still useful for her blood, so make sure she survives. I still need her."

I leaned against the wall, the suffocation pressing in from all sides.

Last night, this man had his hand on my belly, telling me he'd already chosen a name for our baby.

He said, "Emily, we're going to have a daughter who looks like you."

But he'd personally set the date for our baby's death.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to swallow the blood flooding my mouth.

Richard wanted a flawless accident?

Then I would give him a nightmare he would never escape in this lifetime.

I stumbled back into the shadowy hallway, barely able to breathe.

My fingers, pressed against my bag, found the sharp edge of the report.

From the study, I heard the faint scrape of a drawer opening, then Richard's chilling ultimatum. "Set it up. Get rid of the baby now."