Chapter 8
Claire’s heart lurched.
“You want the necklace?”
Lana’s red lips curved.
“Then fish it out yourself.”
Her wrist snapped.
A silver arc cut through the air.
Splash—
The necklace plunged into the deep end of the pool.
Another heavy splash followed.
Without hesitation, Claire jumped in.
The cold swallowed her beige gown.
She didn’t even care that she was on her period.
She searched blindly for a long time.
Dark red bled through the hem of her dress, a watercolor of despair.
Lack of oxygen burned in her chest like a vise.
Her fingers brushed the chain—wild joy burst in her heart.
She seized it and hauled herself to the pool’s edge.
“Cough—cough—cough—”
She gasped raggedly.
Lana grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked the necklace from her other hand.
“Hand it over.”
Her arm flicked again, and the necklace traced another arc into the water.
Claire swallowed her fury and dove again.
A cramp clenched her lower belly—
as if a knife twisted inside her.
Every movement hurt.
Teeth chattering, she felt the pendant—
but as she broke the surface,
Lana crushed her fingers under a heel.
Old wounds torn open, new ones added.
Agony shot up her arm; the necklace clattered to the ground.
“It’s dirty. Wash it again.”
Lana picked it up and threw it a third time.
Claire’s lips turned purple; her teeth rattled.
Her legs seized and dragged her downward.
On the deck, Ethan Vance watched the bullying without a flicker of expression.
Just before her last breath fled, Claire closed her fist around the necklace.
She crawled out on the far side, thinking she was safe at last—
—but a woman she didn’t know snatched it and carried it to Lana like tribute.
With a vicious tug, the chain snapped. The hourglass smashed—shards everywhere.
The ashes tumbled out—every last grain.
“Ah!”
Claire threw herself over the tiny scatter of dust
and let out a keening wail.
“Dad… Dad…”
Glass shredded her palms; blood slicked her fingers.
She didn’t feel it—only clutched the empty chain and sobbed.
Her heart shattered with the hourglass.
She had loved the wrong man. Regret burned through her.
Hate, too.
She had done nothing wrong, yet she was hurt again and again.
At last, Claire fainted by the pool.
It was only because the hotel staff feared she might die there
that they sent her to the hospital.
When she woke, pain lived in every part of her—
skin, bone, blood—
even her soul felt splintered.
She blinked up at the concerned face of a nurse.
“Miss, you’re really lucky. After all that, the baby’s still there.”
“You’re pregnant—didn’t you know?”
“But it’s a threatened miscarriage. If you want to keep the baby, you must rest.”
“Pregnant?”
The word stunned Claire.
Her hand went to her abdomen; a chill spread.
She’d thought it was just her period.
But it was a threatened miscarriage.
She was a doctor—she should have noticed.
But too much had happened for her to care for her own body.
Her palm rested on her belly; a sour ache swelled in her chest.
She and Ethan Vance had been married two years, always wanting a child.
Now the child had come at the worst time.
“Yes, six weeks along. Do you want me to notify the child’s father?”
“No. The child’s father is dead.”
Claire lowered her gaze; her eyes reddened again.
The nurse looked at her with sympathy.
“Then… do you want this baby?”
Did she? She didn’t know.
“Let me think, please.”
“Okay. Rest, and stay in bed as much as possible.”
She knew—this was a severe threat of miscarriage.
Best to remain in bed until the fetus stabilized.
This baby was probably from that night Ethan got drunk.
Yet he’d told Lana that after regaining his memory he’d never touched Claire again.
He wouldn’t even admit this.
So… did this child even have a reason to exist?
Bile surged; Claire gagged.
Blood‑tinged acid burned her throat.
Suddenly, Ethan Vance pushed the door open.
“What pregnancy?”
Claire flinched.
He stood there in a white suit,
brows knit, his dark eyes full of suspicion and displeasure.
“You’re pregnant? I haven’t touched you in a long time.”
Of course—he wouldn’t admit even this.
A sheet of ice formed over Claire’s heart.
“No. We were talking about someone else’s pregnancy.”
Claire shot the nurse a pleading look.
The nurse understood and slipped out.
Ethan seemed to exhale in relief.
“You’re still mine. Don’t you dare betray me.”
The words stabbed her. Tears fell without warning.
He said he hadn’t touched her in a long time—wouldn’t admit it, or truly forgot?
That night he’d been a beast.
He’d carried her straight to the bedroom and taken her hard.
At the peak, he’d murmured against her ear,
“Claire, Claire, what am I supposed to do?”
“Claire, Claire, I don’t want to leave you.”
He must have already regained his memory then—
he just hadn’t told her.
She’d tried to ask, but he’d fallen asleep.
In the middle of the night, and again at dawn, he had taken her twice more.
And now he said he hadn’t touched her in a long time.
If so… then she didn’t want this child.
A child without a father would not be happy—
and this one wouldn’t even be acknowledged.
Her hand pressed to her chest; the pain nearly stole her breath.
“By the way, Lana shouldn’t have bullied you. But she’s been spoiled since she was little—that’s just her temper.”
“I’ll give you another five million. Let’s drop it. To be safe, sign this statement of understanding. I don’t want any negative press about her.”
He handed her a document to sign.
There had been a moment when hatred flooded her—
when she’d wanted to expose Lana Reed’s true face.
But since she was leaving, why entangle herself further?
She thought a moment and let it go.
Fine. Sign it. At least there’s money.
Claire gripped the pen until her knuckles whitened.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Vance. Once I have the money, this will rot in my heart.”
He didn’t love her anymore.
Then she wouldn’t cling to him.
A clean cut.
With her injured hand, she signed her name, stroke by stroke.
