Chapter 1 · The 100Th Heartbreak

The day I got my pregnancy test results, Edward Lane handed me a surgical consent form.

"Claire, sign it." His voice was as calm as if he were discussing the weather. "Vivian's health is fragile. The doctor says seeing this child would affect her recovery."

He leaned close, whispering tenderly like the old days when he used to whisper sweet nothings.

He said, "You know we'll have more children. Once Vivian gets better, you can have as many as you want. I'll give you anything.

"This is the last time, I promise."

I clutched that flimsy piece of paper, my fingertips ice-cold.

In the past five years, I had aborted three of his children, twice with chemical medication, once surgically. Every time, it was for his first love, Vivian's "emotional stability."

Every time, he promised it was the last.

Every time, I believed him.

*****

He had no idea that what was linked to me wasn't a Fertility System.

It was a Heartbreak Value System.

Every time I lost hope because of him, the progress bar climbed by 1 percent. When it finally reached one hundred percent, I'd be able to sever all feelings for him and start over.

Whenever my womb was hurt, the System would repair it, but the agony would be etched into my soul a hundredfold. That was the System's punishment and its warning to me.

The progress bar was stuck at 99 percent.

This surgery consent form in front of me was the hundredth time.

Sign it, and I'd finally be free.

"Edward," I looked up, my voice rough and dry. "This once, can you..."

Edward's gentle smile disappeared, replaced by that familiar impatience in his eyes. "Claire, be good."

He crouched down, grabbed my hand, and shoved the pen between my fingers. "Vivian had another nightmare last night. The doctor says her trauma keeps haunting her.

"You know, she tried to kill herself when I picked you over her, and she's still suffering the consequences.

"She broke down when she saw your pregnancy report. Claire, you've always been the one who understands me."

I stared into Edward's eyes, the same eyes I once loved so much. At that moment, all that stared back at me was my own wretchedness.

"What if I told you," I said quietly, "that this surgery might mean I'll never be able to have kids again?"

Edward paused, and then he chuckled, almost dismissively, and reached over to mess up my hair. "No way. You always bounced back before, didn't you? You're strong, and the doctors said you would recover fast.

"Don't be ridiculous. Sign it."

He paused, then added, "About the nursing home on the west side of town, your mom's care bill for next month still isn't paid, right? Sign the form, and I'll make sure it's handled immediately."

It felt like an ice pick went straight through my heart, leaving nothing but numbness.

Here it came again.

He always knew where to hit me, right where it hurt the most.

I lowered my eyes to the words: [Voluntary Termination of Pregnancy], and I couldn't help but feel how bitterly ironic it was.

Five years ago, Edward proposed to me and said, "Claire, I'll spend my whole life protecting you and our family."

And at that moment, he was trading my mother's peace in her old age to make me kill our baby with my own hands.

"Okay," I said. My voice sounded empty.

I took the pen and signed my name, Claire Sutton, stroke by stroke.

As the final stroke landed, the progress bar floating in the air, visible only to me, gave a tiny twitch.

Still, it stayed frozen at 99 percent.

I was stunned. Why wasn't the meter at 100 yet?

"Good girl," Edward said, pleased as he put the consent form away. He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "The surgery's scheduled for tomorrow morning.

"Get some rest tonight. I told the maid to make you something to help you recover."

He got up and started to walk away.

"Edward Lane," I called out, stopping him.

He turned back, his brows furrowing, clearly annoyed that I'd suddenly addressed him so formally.

"If one day," I said slowly, "I mean, if I really could never have children again, would you regret it?"

He paused for a moment, then gave a short laugh. "Stop talking nonsense. Get some rest. I'll come check on you later."

The door closed softly behind him.

I leaned back against the headboard, eyes fixed on the number hanging in the air before me, my heart pounding in my chest.

This was the 99th time.

There were three abortions, seven times I caught him being intimate with Vivian Lynn, eleven forgotten birthdays, twenty-three broken promises, fifteen times he threatened my family, and nineteen times he humiliated me in public for Vivian...

Every heartbreak was recorded.

Why wasn't it enough?

The System's cold, robotic voice rang in my head: "Heartbreak assessment requires reaching the 'total despair' threshold. The host's subconscious still holds 0.01 percent hope. Criteria not met."

I couldn't help but let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh.

Turned out that the last 0.01 percent of hope was buried so deep inside me, and I never even noticed it.

It was so deep that I managed to fool even myself.

Chapter 1

The day I got my pregnancy test results, Edward Lane handed me a surgical consent form.

"Claire, sign it." His voice was as calm as if he were discussing the weather. "Vivian's health is fragile. The doctor says seeing this child would affect her recovery."

He leaned close, whispering tenderly like the old days when he used to whisper sweet nothings.

He said, "You know we'll have more children. Once Vivian gets better, you can have as many as you want. I'll give you anything.

"This is the last time, I promise."

I clutched that flimsy piece of paper, my fingertips ice-cold.

In the past five years, I had aborted three of his children, twice with chemical medication, once surgically. Every time, it was for his first love, Vivian's "emotional stability."

Every time, he promised it was the last.

Every time, I believed him.

*****

He had no idea that what was linked to me wasn't a Fertility System.

It was a Heartbreak Value System.

Every time I lost hope because of him, the progress bar climbed by 1 percent. When it finally reached one hundred percent, I'd be able to sever all feelings for him and start over.

Whenever my womb was hurt, the System would repair it, but the agony would be etched into my soul a hundredfold. That was the System's punishment and its warning to me.

The progress bar was stuck at 99 percent.

This surgery consent form in front of me was the hundredth time.

Sign it, and I'd finally be free.

"Edward," I looked up, my voice rough and dry. "This once, can you..."

Edward's gentle smile disappeared, replaced by that familiar impatience in his eyes. "Claire, be good."

He crouched down, grabbed my hand, and shoved the pen between my fingers. "Vivian had another nightmare last night. The doctor says her trauma keeps haunting her.

"You know, she tried to kill herself when I picked you over her, and she's still suffering the consequences.

"She broke down when she saw your pregnancy report. Claire, you've always been the one who understands me."

I stared into Edward's eyes, the same eyes I once loved so much. At that moment, all that stared back at me was my own wretchedness.

"What if I told you," I said quietly, "that this surgery might mean I'll never be able to have kids again?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Sign it."

He paused, then added, "About the nursing home on the west side of town, your mom's care bill for next month still isn't paid, right? Sign the form, and I'll make sure it's handled immediately."

It felt like an ice pick went straight through my heart, leaving nothing but numbness.

Here it came again.

He always knew where to hit me, right where it hurt the most.

I lowered my eyes to the words: [Voluntary Termination of Pregnancy], and I couldn't help but feel how bitterly ironic it was.

Five years ago, Edward proposed to me and said, "Claire, I'll spend my whole life protecting you and our family."

And at that moment, he was trading my mother's peace in her old age to make me kill our baby with my own hands.

"Okay," I said. My voice sounded empty.

I took the pen and signed my name, Claire Sutton, stroke by stroke.

As the final stroke landed, the progress bar floating in the air, visible only to me, gave a tiny twitch.

Still, it stayed frozen at 99 percent.

I was stunned. Why wasn't the meter at 100 yet?

"Good girl," Edward said, pleased as he put the consent form away. He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "The surgery's scheduled for tomorrow morning.

"Get some rest tonight. I told the maid to make you something to help you recover."

He got up and started to walk away.

"Edward Lane," I called out, stopping him.

He turned back, his brows furrowing, clearly annoyed that I'd suddenly addressed him so formally.

"If one day," I said slowly, "I mean, if I really could never have children again, would you regret it?"

He paused for a moment, then gave a short laugh. "Stop talking nonsense. Get some rest. I'll come check on you later."

The door closed softly behind him.

I leaned back against the headboard, eyes fixed on the number hanging in the air before me, my heart pounding in my chest.

This was the 99th time.

Every heartbreak was recorded.

Why wasn't it enough?

The System's cold, robotic voice rang in my head: "Heartbreak assessment requires reaching the 'total despair' threshold. The host's subconscious still holds 0.01 percent hope. Criteria not met."

I couldn't help but let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh.

Turned out that the last 0.01 percent of hope was buried so deep inside me, and I never even noticed it.

It was so deep that I managed to fool even myself.