Chapter 4
"Mr. Booker, our baby's healthy—I'm over the moon."
His voice stayed even, revealing nothing, but the subtle lift of his eyebrows gave away his good spirits.
"Yeah, you're doing a great job looking after him."
They were chatting away about the baby, totally unaware that I'd come to a halt right in front of them.
The moment Willian saw me, he let go of Deanna's hand like it burned him and put some distance between them.
After a tense, silent beat, I spoke up first.
"Small world. Anyway, carry on—I'll get going."
He snatched at my arm in a flurry, not willing to release me.
"Stella, wait, let me explain."
I gently shook him off, calm as could be, without a trace of rage.
"I'm not mad. This baby's your responsibility—I get it."
Deanna's eyes sparkled at that.
"Ms. Buckley, does this mean you're fine with keeping the child?"
After our last confrontation, I had no desire to keep up any pretense of friendliness.
"Ms. Tanner, the baby's arriving any day—what good would my disapproval do now?"
She panicked, her voice wavering on the edge of sobs.
"I... I didn't have a choice."
Excuses like that meant nothing at this point.
I spun around and made my way back to the doctor's office, leaving Willian behind.
Just like that, the choice had been taken out of my hands.
On the day Deanna went into labor, Willian was called away at 4 a.m.
As he headed out, he leaned close to my ear and whispered, "Stella, once this baby's born, can we just go back to how things were?"
He knew I was awake.
He also knew this strange new child had come between us, changing everything.
I kept my eyes shut tight, giving him no answer.
But right as he reached the door, I suddenly called after him.
Stubbornly, I asked, "Willian, if it came down to me or this child—who would you pick?"
Seeing the stunned, torn look on his face, I shook my head and told him to go.
As I settled back into bed, he said softly, "Wait for me. I'll sort everything out when I get back."
But I didn't need him sorting anything—I'd take care of it myself.
Once he was gone, I set the divorce papers and a USB drive on the nightstand.
Without a single goodbye, I left the home I'd once cherished above all else.
With two days before my flight, I headed back to my hometown.
I hadn't set foot there since marrying Willian.
The old shabby house had been built up into a two-story home, gleaming standout among the rest.
Someone with keen eyes caught sight of me and yelled, pointing.
"Hey, the Buckley family's daughter—the one who married into the good life—is back!"
Within a minute, a crowd had gathered around me.
My parents came out of the house, but their smiles froze when they noticed my empty hands.
They welcomed me in with fake cheer, and the moment the door clicked shut, Mom pinched my waist hard.
"You little ingrate—showing up empty-handed? We raised you for nothing."
"I'm getting divorced. Willian won't be sending you money anymore."
The whole family looked like the sky had fallen, their faces turning sour.
There you had it—these leeching parents and siblings, who pretty much sold me off—that was my so-called family.
When they learned I'd walked away with nothing, not a penny, they kicked me out without a second thought.
Standing outside the locked gate, I felt no sorrow at all.
With relatives like these, I actually owed Willian some gratitude—he'd shielded me from their mess.
He'd given me five years of real stability.
But now that we were over, I didn't want them disrupting his fresh start.
With that headache dealt with, I got on the plane without looking back.
I left behind the city I'd lived in for years, completely on my own.
Deanna gave birth to an eight-pound baby boy, giving Willian the son he'd always wanted.
Meanwhile, there I was on the plane, sinking deep into my memories.
Reflecting on those early days when Willian and I first got together.
That year, my family called to say Grandpa was sick and needed meds.
They claimed they were broke—if I didn't wire the cash, they wouldn't bother treating him.
I sent them every last cent I'd scraped together, not even keeping enough for a single decent meal.
For the entire month until payday, I lived off nothing but instant noodles.
Eventually, Willian caught wind of it.
As someone born with a silver spoon, he'd never experienced a single day of scraping by.
His eyes brimmed with tears as he asked in a hoarse voice.
"Why didn't you tell me?"