Chapter 3
At that moment, the door swung open.
Jenny entered, carrying an insulated food jar. Seeing the tension between us, her smile froze for an instant before she regained her composure.
"Alexander, I brought you some homemade soup. Eleanor mentioned you were here, so I made a point of bringing it," Jenny said softly.
I tried to wrench my wrist free. In the struggle, my arm collided with Jenny's.
She cried out as the insulated jar flew from her grasp, sending scalding soup cascading down her front.
Alexander shoved me aside and pulled Jenny into his arms.
I staggered backward, colliding with the doorframe. A sharp pain shot through my lower back.
Then a heavy, dragging pain bloomed deep in my abdomen.
The color drained from my face, and my hand flew to my abdomen.
Alexander's eyes dropped to my hand pressed against my abdomen, his expression unreadable.
Jenny's eyes scanned him anxiously.
"Alexander, are you all right?" Jenny asked, her voice laced with concern.
Alexander didn't respond to her. His gaze remained fixed on me, unwavering.
The door flew open again, and Eleanor barged in. She charged toward me, a finger pointed accusingly.
"You wretch! Are you trying to kill him? If anything happens to Alexander, you'll pay for it," Eleanor shouted.
The pain stole my voice. Cold sweat trickled down my temple.
My eyes moved over them: my husband and my mother-in-law, standing together, hurling accusations. Not one of them asked if I was in pain.
It was a perfect echo of my previous life, hemorrhaging on the delivery table while their only concern was the baby.
A bitter, hollow laugh burst from me.
Tears streamed down my face, mingling with the broken sound.
This was the man I had loved for ten years, who had betrayed and wounded me for the sake of another.
Bracing against the wall, I slowly straightened and wiped the tears from my eyes.
"Alexander," I said, my voice like ice. "We are finished."
I added, "And you are finished."
My words left the three of them frozen in place.
Alexander's brow furrowed deeper, his eyes filled with a mix of scrutiny and bewilderment.
Eleanor stared at me as if I had lost my mind. "What nonsense are you talking?"
Ignoring them, I took out my phone and called Natalie.
"Natalie, call an ambulance to the Golden Crest Club. My stomach hurts terribly. I think I'm miscarrying."
At the word "miscarrying," Alexander's face turned ashen.
He moved as if to come forward, but Jenny clung to him, holding him back. "Alexander, don't go to her. She's faking it. She's just trying to force your hand."
Eleanor chimed in, "Exactly. She's doing this on purpose. That woman is calculating."
Sparks danced at the edges of my vision from the pain, yet I summoned a mocking smile, refusing to yield.
"Whether this is an act will be clear soon enough. The paramedics will be able to tell. And by then, the headlines will read: 'Sutton Group CEO Shoves Pregnant Wife During Divorce Dispute, Causes Miscarriage.' I'm sure it will make compelling reading."
A vein throbbed at Alexander's temple, his face contorted with fury.
The ambulance arrived promptly.
As I was lifted onto the gurney, my eyes met Alexander's. What I saw there was a tempest of emotion: impotent rage and something like bitter frustration.
He wanted to intervene but feared the situation would escalate beyond his control.
In the end, he could only stand by and watch as I was wheeled out.
At the hospital, after the examinations, the doctor explained that I showed signs of a threatened miscarriage, but the fetus was stable. I needed to be admitted for observation.
Lying in the hospital bed, I watched Natalie beside me, furious tears streaking her cheeks. "That family is monstrous. Laura, we can't let this slide," she said.
"Of course we won't," I said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.
*****
News of my hospitalization spread quickly.
The next day, my father flew back from overseas.
The moment he entered the room and saw my pallor, his eyes grew red-rimmed.
"Dad." I tried to push myself up.
"Just lie still," he said, gently pressing me back, his voice thick with suppressed anger. "Where is that Sutton boy? Does he think he can treat you this way? Does he believe the Summers family has no influence?"
My father had always doted on me. When I was set on marrying Alexander, he had been opposed, saying that Alexander was too ambitious and that I wouldn't be able to handle him.
But I had been blinded by what I mistook for love.
"Dad, I'm leaving him. We're getting a divorce," I said calmly.
My father was taken aback for a moment, then gave a firm nod.
"Good. Divorce him. My daughter will not tolerate such disrespect," he declared.
"Dad, let me handle this my way," I said, catching his hand. "I have a plan."
In my previous life, my family had paid the ultimate price for standing by me. Alexander had orchestrated their ruin, piece by piece. Now, no one would touch my family again.
I told my father everything: how Alexander's amnesia had been nothing but a pretense.
When he heard this, he brought his fist down hard on the bedside table.
"That bastard!" he roared.
"Dad, don't worry. What he owes me, I will reclaim a hundredfold," I said, my eyes like chips of ice.