Chapter 1 · She Got Pregnant, I Filed

I was at the hos#pital with my mom when I ran into my husband, Edward Stone, in the obstetrics department.

He talked closely with a woman and kissed her cheek, like a married couple.

The woman had a baby bump, at least seven months along.

I rushed over and grabbed Edward's wrist, my voice shaking. "What is this? Why are you here with her for a prenatal checkup?"

He brushed my hand off with icy indifference. "What is this?"

He pulled a smile, his tone chillingly calm. "When I told you to get rid of that baby, it wasn't because I didn't want a child.

"I simply didn't want one with you."

*****

"Ms. Knight, you need to rest more," the nurse said.

Her gentle, professional voice snapped me out of my foggy confusion.

I blinked up at the hospital ceiling, those bland off-white tiles making my head spin.

A strange blend of disinfectant and a faint floral scent lingered in the air around me.

"What happened to me?" I asked.

I propped myself up on my arm to sit up, a dull ache pulsing at the back of my head.

The nurse handed me a glass of water. "You passed out from low blood sugar and exhaustion while waiting in line at the registration desk.

"We ran some basic tests. Your blood pressure is low. I suggest you get a full blood test to rule out anemia."

I nodded, took the glass, and let the water slide down my throat. It eased the weakness that felt like it was leaking from my bones.

I glanced at the clock on the wall: 2:45 PM.

It had been more than five hours since I'd driven my mom, Margaret, from the suburbs into the city this morning.

Her migraines were nothing new, but lately they'd been coming more often, sometimes even causing her vision to blur.

I insisted on bringing her to a specialist hospital in Mocheston for a full checkup, which meant canceling an important curatorial meeting at the gallery.

The whole morning was a whirlwind: making appointments, waiting in line to pay, and waiting with her during the MRI scan.

I'd been pulling all-nighters to finish the exhibition catalog. Then today, I ran myself ragged all over the hospital. By the time I got to the payment window, my body gave out and I collapsed.

"Where's my mom?" I asked.

"She's in the waiting area. Your daughter is with her, such a well‑behaved little girl.

"Your husband called earlier. He said he'll come pick you up this afternoon," the nurse said with a smile.

Edward? Something inside me shifted a little.

I didn't know when it happened, but that easy, wordless closeness between Edward and me was gone.

He went on business trips very often, came home later and later, and always kept his phone face-down on the table.

Last week, while he was in the shower, I happened to glance at his phone on the nightstand and saw a message pop up from someone labeled as "D.": [Miss you. Can you come over tonight?]

I didn't click on it or say anything.

I told myself it was probably a work message from a female client.

Edward and I trusted each other. I didn't want to break that trust over something that might be nothing.

Just then, a tiny figure rushed in from the doorway, like a little ball of golden fluff. "Mommy!"

It was my daughter, Lila Stone. She was six and a half, with gorgeous golden-brown curls and eyes as blue as the sea.

She looked up at me, her cheeks rosy and her little face full of worry. "Mommy, are you sick? Grandma Margaret said you fell."

"I'm fine, sweetheart, merely a bit tired." I ruffled her soft hair, and that uneasy feeling in my chest eased a little. "Where's Grandma Margaret?"

"She's resting. The nurse said she needs to sit for a while." Lila leaned over the bedside and gently tapped the back of my hand with her tiny finger. "Mommy, I'm hungry."

I checked the time: it was lunchtime.

I pushed myself up. The dizziness was gone, though I still felt a little weak.

I pulled out my wallet from my bag. "Let's go get you a sandwich."

*****

There was a café in the main hospital building, a short walk through the glass corridor connecting the outpatient and inpatient wings.

It was lunchtime, and the hallway was packed with people.

There were elderly folks in wheelchairs, young doctors rushing by with stacks of medical records, and young parents pushing strollers.

My eyes wandered through the crowd, searching for the café.

Then my gaze landed on a corner on the south side of the atrium garden.

In the garden's seating area, a few cast-iron benches were tucked away behind tall potted plants.

On one of those benches sat a figure I knew all too well: Edward.

Chapter 1

I was at the hos#pital with my mom when I ran into my husband, Edward Stone, in the obstetrics department.

He talked closely with a woman and kissed her cheek, like a married couple.

The woman had a baby bump, at least seven months along.

I rushed over and grabbed Edward's wrist, my voice shaking. "What is this? Why are you here with her for a prenatal checkup?"

He brushed my hand off with icy indifference. "What is this?"

He pulled a smile, his tone chillingly calm. "When I told you to get rid of that baby, it wasn't because I didn't want a child.

"I simply didn't want one with you."

*****

"Ms. Knight, you need to rest more," the nurse said.

Her gentle, professional voice snapped me out of my foggy confusion.

I blinked up at the hospital ceiling, those bland off-white tiles making my head spin.

A strange blend of disinfectant and a faint floral scent lingered in the air around me.

"What happened to me?" I asked.

I propped myself up on my arm to sit up, a dull ache pulsing at the back of my head.

The nurse handed me a glass of water. "You passed out from low blood sugar and exhaustion while waiting in line at the registration desk.

"We ran some basic tests. Your blood pressure is low. I suggest you get a full blood test to rule out anemia."

I nodded, took the glass, and let the water slide down my throat. It eased the weakness that felt like it was leaking from my bones.

I glanced at the clock on the wall: 2:45 PM.

It had been more than five hours since I'd driven my mom, Margaret, from the suburbs into the city this morning.

Her migraines were nothing new, but lately they'd been coming more often, sometimes even causing her vision to blur.

I insisted on bringing her to a specialist hospital in Mocheston for a full checkup, which meant canceling an important curatorial meeting at the gallery.

The whole morning was a whirlwind: making appointments, waiting in line to pay, and waiting with her during the MRI scan.

I'd been pulling all-nighters to finish the exhibition catalog. Then today, I ran myself ragged all over the hospital. By the time I got to the payment window, my body gave out and I collapsed.

"Where's my mom?" I asked.

"She's in the waiting area. Your daughter is with her, such a well‑behaved little girl.

"Your husband called earlier. He said he'll come pick you up this afternoon," the nurse said with a smile.

Edward? Something inside me shifted a little.

I didn't know when it happened, but that easy, wordless closeness between Edward and me was gone.

He went on business trips very often, came home later and later, and always kept his phone face-down on the table.

Last week, while he was in the shower, I happened to glance at his phone on the nightstand and saw a message pop up from someone labeled as "D.": [Miss you. Can you come over tonight?]

I didn't click on it or say anything.

I told myself it was probably a work message from a female client.

Edward and I trusted each other. I didn't want to break that trust over something that might be nothing.

Just then, a tiny figure rushed in from the doorway, like a little ball of golden fluff. "Mommy!"

It was my daughter, Lila Stone. She was six and a half, with gorgeous golden-brown curls and eyes as blue as the sea.

She looked up at me, her cheeks rosy and her little face full of worry. "Mommy, are you sick? Grandma Margaret said you fell."

"I'm fine, sweetheart, merely a bit tired." I ruffled her soft hair, and that uneasy feeling in my chest eased a little. "Where's Grandma Margaret?"

"She's resting. The nurse said she needs to sit for a while." Lila leaned over the bedside and gently tapped the back of my hand with her tiny finger. "Mommy, I'm hungry."

I checked the time: it was lunchtime.

I pushed myself up. The dizziness was gone, though I still felt a little weak.

I pulled out my wallet from my bag. "Let's go get you a sandwich."

*****

There was a café in the main hospital building, a short walk through the glass corridor connecting the outpatient and inpatient wings.

It was lunchtime, and the hallway was packed with people.

There were elderly folks in wheelchairs, young doctors rushing by with stacks of medical records, and young parents pushing strollers.

My eyes wandered through the crowd, searching for the café.

Then my gaze landed on a corner on the south side of the atrium garden.

In the garden's seating area, a few cast-iron benches were tucked away behind tall potted plants.

On one of those benches sat a figure I knew all too well: Edward.