Chapter 5

Renee stopped walking and slowly turned around.

Sylvia got a clear look at the clothing in her hands.

Powder blue. A little embroidered bunny on the front. The size was right for a one-year-old.

"Oh, Sylvia — you're awake." Renee's face arranged itself into surprise. "Why aren't you in bed? Running around like this will only make things worse. Damien's going to be furious if he finds out."

"Come on, let me help you back."

Renee stepped forward. Sylvia snatched the garment from her arm.

It smelled faintly of baby — that soft, milky sweetness.

Sylvia's eyes locked onto Renee like a blade. "This belongs to Milo. Doesn't it?"

Renee glanced down. "Oh, that? It's just an old thing. No use for it anymore. I was about to throw it away."

So it was Milo's.

Sylvia's gaze burned. "My son is alive, isn't he?"

"Let's not do this out here. Come back to your room. I'll answer whatever you want to ask."

Renee's voice was impossibly gentle. Sylvia didn't know what game she was playing, but her body was failing her — she couldn't stand here arguing in the hallway.

They went inside. The bodyguards pulled the door shut behind them, leaving it cracked.

Renee surprised her by actually helping her onto the bed. She noticed the blood on Sylvia's right hand where the IV needle had torn free, and her brow furrowed — as if she genuinely cared.

"Sylvia, honestly. Why can't you just take care of yourself? Now we'll have to call the nurse back to re-insert your line."

She stood to press the call button by the headboard.

Sylvia stopped her, voice cold as stone. "It's just the two of us. Drop the act. Answer my question."

Renee withdrew her hand, that innocent smile still plastered in place. "The child you're asking about — you mean Milo?"

"Who else?"

Renee tilted her head. "Oh. I thought you meant the one you miscarried three years ago."

The memory seemed to amuse her.

Back then, all it had taken was paying someone to deepfake a video of Sylvia cheating — leak it onto the dark web, make sure Damien saw it, then drop a few well-placed hints. After that, Damien was convinced the baby Sylvia lost had been conceived with another man.

Things between Damien and Sylvia had already been falling apart. It was hardly a pleasant memory for Sylvia.

The mention of it turned Sylvia's expression glacial.

"Oh — sorry." Renee's apology dripped with false sweetness. "I didn't mean to bring that up. I just wanted to test whether you'd scrambled your brain in the fall."

She studied Sylvia with mock concern. "Looks like no concussion though. That's great news."

"Cut the bullshit. Is Milo alive or not?"

Renee smiled, unhurried. "That little bastard? I'm sorry to tell you — he's dead."

Sylvia's jaw set. "Impossible. I heard a child crying. The nurses told me Milo isn't dead."

"Oh." Renee's lips curled slowly upward. "Didn't you know, Sylvia? I had those nurses say that on purpose — right by your bedside. He's actually been dead this whole time."

Sylvia's gaze faltered. But she held firm. "That's a lie! I heard him crying. I heard him!"

Renee's smile turned playful. "That? I just had someone bring a random baby near your room to cry. You wouldn't wake up, so I thought maternal instinct might pull you back. Sorry for the misunderstanding."

Sylvia grabbed her collar with every ounce of strength she had, the rims of her eyes burning red. "You're lying. Stop playing games — there's no audience here. No one for you to perform for. I know he's alive. Tell me where he is. Tell me he's alive."

Renee had had her fun. The smile finally faded. "Fine. I'll admit it. Your little bastard isn't quite dead yet. But he will be soon."

"What did you say?" Sylvia's grip tightened on her collar.

Renee winced but didn't pull away.

"Damien told me to take care of him. But you think I have the patience to babysit a sickly brat every day? So I handed him off to a nanny."

"The kid has terrible luck. Sick every other day, always crying and fussing. It got annoying. So sometimes we just… helped him quiet down."

Sylvia's heart climbed into her throat. "What did you do to Milo?"

"Nothing much. Just tied him up, stuffed something in his mouth, and left him in the basement with the rats."

"You know, he was actually easier to deal with before he could talk. I could pinch him whenever I wanted — he'd cry but no one could figure out why. Too bad he learned to speak eventually. First words out of his mouth were always 'Mama.' And then he tried to tell Damien on me."

Renee's eyes sharpened. "Now you tell me — I'm busting my ass raising this kid, wiping his nose, cleaning up after him — and he turns around and bites the hand that feeds him? Naturally, I had to teach him a lesson."

Sylvia stared at her, wide-eyed. Every ragged breath was agony.

Her hands closed around Renee's throat.

Renee's expression turned smug, taunting. She dropped her voice even lower. "You know what? Your son eating spoiled leftovers — he looked exactly like a homeless beggar. But my favorite part was watching him fight the dog for scraps. That was hilarious. So I started skipping his meals on purpose."

"Oh, and once? The dog actually got mad. Nearly bit him to death. Lucky I stepped in just in time."

"You evil bitch — I'll kill you!"

Sylvia's hands squeezed harder. The words tore from her throat in a raw scream.

Renee's smile only widened, her voice strained now. "Anyway, no one's watching him right now. The nannies are either on leave or slacking off. A child that small, burning up with fever, no one taking care of him — how long do you think he'll last?"

That sentence ignited something beyond reason.

"Renee, I'll kill you!"

Sylvia threw every last shred of strength into her grip, pinning both hands around Renee's neck without mercy.

Renee hadn't expected this kind of force from a woman so badly injured. Sylvia tackled her to the ground. The back of Renee's skull cracked against the floor.

"Ngh — let go — let go of me!" Renee thrashed beneath her, but deliberately kept herself in a losing position, clawing wildly at Sylvia's arms.

Sylvia was beyond reason. She straddled Renee, hands tightening, tightening.

"I'll kill you, and then I'll find my Milo!"

Renee's face flushed deep crimson. She was struggling to breathe now.

Sylvia's tears fell one by one, splashing onto Renee's face.

"Help… someone help…" Renee wanted nothing more than to fight back with everything she had. But something held her back. She only slapped the floor desperately.

"Sylvia, please stop… I really — I didn't know… cough cough…"

Still pretending.

The hatred in Sylvia's eyes threatened to overflow. "Die!"

"STOP!"

A cold, furious voice cracked through the doorway. The door slammed open with a deafening bang.