Chapter 4
Secretly recorded videos, blurry snapshots, and all kinds of sensational leaks and gossip poured onto the internet like a tidal wave, blowing last night's humiliation up into an internet-wide frenzy.
Vivian scrolled down and finally found a message from Sebastian.
There was only one.
[You need to give Sylvia an explanation for what happened last night.]
Vivian stared at Sebastian's words for ten whole seconds, then gave a quiet laugh.
But as she kept laughing, her eyes slowly grew red.
She dropped her phone onto the bed, lay back, and closed her eyes. Her tears slipped quietly from the corners of her eyes, soaking into her hair.
She had considered the possibility that Sebastian might misunderstand her.
But she never imagined that after losing both herself and the child, the first thing he'd say would be to tell her to explain herself to another woman.
How unbelievable! Sarcasm dripped from her mind.
This divorce was absolutely deserved.
Sebastian Shaw didn't learn that Vivian was hospitalized until the afternoon of the next day.
He had just walked out of the corporate boardroom when his secretary, Darren, handed him his phone, his face pale and tense.
"Mr. Shaw, Mrs. Shaw had a miscarriage," Darren said quietly.
The air seemed to be sucked out of the room.
Sebastian froze, and when he looked up, his eyes were so cold they sent chills down your spine.
"What did you say?" he asked.
Darren handed him a tablet showing the hospital's leaked emergency records. Everything was laid out—time, name, department, diagnosis.
"Severe bleeding from a threatened miscarriage, ending in a complete loss."
Sebastian stared at those lines, his knuckles tightening until they turned bone white.
"Why didn't anyone tell me last night?" Sebastian's voice was icy.
Darren swallowed, his voice strained. "Mrs. Shaw called you three times last night, and then Dr. Mulgan tried to reach you, too, but…your phone was with Ms. Raby. She said it was just some spam calls and declined them for you."
The silence in the office was suffocating.
After a moment, Sebastian asked in a cold voice, "Where is she now?"
"She's already been discharged from the hospital and has returned to Maple Bridge Villa," Darren replied.
Maple Bridge Villa was the home they once shared as newlyweds.
For the past three years, Vivian had been the only one holding onto it, waiting there all alone.
Sebastian didn't say another word. He snatched up his car keys and stormed out.
He drove like a man possessed, but Vivian's figure at the auction last night kept flashing through his mind, replaying over and over.
She'd said, "All I could do was pray, one last time, that the baby inside me would be safe."
That wasn't a threat.
Her face was ghostly pale, but her eyes shone with a frightening clarity. That calm—almost desperate—was something no one could ever pretend.
But last night, Sebastian just couldn't bring himself to trust her.
Because it was Vivian, after all.
The same woman who'd married him three years ago, when he was at rock bottom—bringing all the Hurst family's debts and schemes right to his doorstep.
The woman he'd always seen as tainted, never once believing she was innocent.
The car screeched to a stop outside Maple Bridge Villa, tires shrieking against the pavement.
Sebastian shoved the door open and instantly caught sight of the papers lying out across the living room.
They were divorce papers.
At the very top, Vivian's signature was already signed.
Her handwriting was clean and delicate, just like her.
Sebastian stood there, his eyes dark and heavy. He lingered for a long moment before finally opening the papers.
She didn't want a single thing.
No house, no car, no jewelry, no shares—not even the real estate he'd transferred to her after their wedding. She gave up everything. All she asked for were two things.
First, the divorce had to be settled within three days.
Second, the Shaw family was not allowed to meddle anymore with the request to reopen Zane's case.
Zane was her father.
He was also the man who was officially blamed as the engineer in charge of the hotel fire three years ago.
Sebastian stared at those two conditions, his expression turning icier with every word.
She didn't want money, fame, or any kind of compensation. The only thing she asked for was to have her father's case overturned.
Even at a time like this, she still had the nerve to bargain with him.
Light footsteps sounded from upstairs.
Sebastian looked up.
Vivian stood by the railing on the second floor, wearing an oversized white knit sweater. Her face was pale, and she was so thin her chin was almost pointed.
In her arms was a cardboard box stuffed with random old things.
When she saw him, she looked utterly unfazed, as if nothing could touch her.
"You're back," Vivian said.
It was like she was just saying hi to a stranger, someone she barely recognized.
Sebastian tried to keep his cool, but his voice was icy. "Why didn't you tell me about the baby?"
Vivian cradled the cardboard box in her arms and slowly descended the stairs.
"I did tell you," she said. "Three calls last night, and I even told you directly at the scene. But you were too busy with your important affairs to answer, Mr. Shaw."
Her words were gentle, but each one stung like a needle, sharp and cold.
Sebastian felt a pang in his chest. His eyes lingered on her abdomen, and his voice unconsciously lowered.
"... How's your health?" he asked.
Vivian managed a small smile.
"Won't die," she said.
Her words made Sebastian's brows furrow suddenly, a sharp tension flashing across his face.
He hated seeing her like this.
No tears, no drama, no arguments, like every bit of warmth had drained away, leaving her nothing but a hollow shell.