Chapter 2

The nurses' whispers grew bolder.

"Pregnant? And her husband doesn't even want her anymore…"

"Probably trying to save the marriage with a baby. That's the only trick these women have…"

I stared at the doctor in shock, my mind a total blank.

The doctor looked at me kindly. "Mrs. Harrington, your gastritis is quite severe. I'm prescribing some stomach medicine. Make sure you get it and take it."

I nodded numbly and took the prescription slip, though I hadn't really processed her words. Where would the money for medicine come from?

The nurses were still whispering not far away.

Clutching my still-throbbing stomach, I stumbled out of the hospital.

I walked until I finally reached home, exhausted.

I paused at the facial recognition system, smoothing my wind-tousled hair.

"Please proceed with facial recognition."

I looked at the camera.

"Recognition failed. You do not have access."

I froze. Tried again.

"Recognition failed. You do not have access."

This couldn't be!

My hands trembling, I pressed the doorbell. The pain in my stomach made it hard to stand.

After a long while, the intercom crackled with the butler's voice. "Mrs. Harrington, it is past curfew."

"This is my home…"

"My apologies. It's Mr. Harrington's order. And Mr. Harrington has stated he does not wish any… unwanted persons to disrupt Miss Isabella's birthday festivities."

"But I'm the lady of the house..."

The intercom clicked off.

I remembered our engagement night two years ago, Theodore eagerly holding my hand as we set up the facial recognition.

"Cordelia, from now on, this door will always be open for you. This is your home."

So all those promises were bullshit.

I collapsed onto the front steps, feeling my empty pockets. Penniless. Nowhere to go.

From inside the villa came sporadic bursts of laughter and music.

They were celebrating Isabella's birthday, while I, whose birthday it also was, was locked out like a stray dog.

I looked down at my stomach, touching it gently.

I'm sorry. Mommy has let you suffer.

Deep into the night, the sounds of revelry from the villa gradually died down, but my pain only intensified.

By dawn, I was nearly frozen solid. When the door finally opened, I wondered if I had already died out there.

"My God! Madam!" Mrs. García gasped, dropping her broom and rushing over. "Have you been sitting out here all night? Good heavens, your face is blue!"

She helped my stiff body up. The moment she touched my icy hands, her eyes welled with tears.

"Come inside, quickly! You'll fall ill!"

Mrs. García helped me in. My legs were so numb I could barely feel them.

Passing through the living room, I stopped.

The space was transformed into something out of a dream—pink roses everywhere, an elegant champagne tower, a massive three-tiered birthday cake. Decorations reading "Happy Birthday Isabella" were scattered about.

Noticing my gaze, Mrs. García said carefully, "Madam… I left your birthday gift on your dressing table. Just a small bouquet of daisies… I hope you don't mind…"

How ironic—the maid had remembered my birthday, but my husband hadn't.

Mrs. García soon brought hot chicken broth. My hands shook too violently to hold the spoon, so she fed me, one careful spoonful at a time.

"Madam, you should eat something and then get some rest."

I nodded. But I didn't go to the bedroom. Instead, I went to the study.

From the very back of a drawer, I retrieved the divorce papers I had prepared long ago.

It was time to end this.

Clutching the documents, I headed upstairs to find Theodore.

Just outside the master bedroom door, the sounds hit me—a woman's wanton moans mixed with a man's heavy breathing, the violent thudding of a headboard against the wall.

"Harder… yes, harder…" Isabella's lustful cries filtered through the door.

"Darling, you were insatiable last night, and you still want more this morning…" Theodore's voice was thick with satisfaction.

"You started it," Isabella gasped with a throaty laugh. "By the way, your wife didn't come home last night. Aren't you curious where she went?"

"Just her usual drama," Theodore scoffed. "What else can a bankrupt's daughter do besides cry and ask for money?"

"Then why haven't you divorced her yet?"

"A divorce would be letting her off too easy," Theodore said with a wicked laugh. "I want her to watch me with you. I want her to understand how worthless she is."

I pushed the door open.

Inside, two naked bodies were entwined.

The air was thick with the scent of sex. Their clothes were strewn across the floor. A used condom lay discarded by the bed.

Theodore didn't even stop. He glanced sideways at me, frowning with a cold snort. "Who said you could come in? Don't you know how to knock?"

Isabella lazily pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts, her face still flushed. "Oh, Cordelia, barging in is rather rude. This is Theodore's room, after all…"

"This is our bedroom," I said with a cold laugh.

Theodore looked at me with icy detachment. "Cordelia, what gives you the right to say 'our'?"

I looked at them, remembering myself shivering outside the door last night, the nurses' mockery, the innocent life in my womb.

I walked to the bed and hurled the divorce papers squarely into Theodore's face.

"Sign them. We're done."