Chapter 7

I picked up my packed belongings and gently pushed open the door of the Smith Mansion, ready to slip out quietly without being noticed or stopped by the bodyguards James had arranged.

Just as I was about to reach the entrance, James's car slowly pulled into the courtyard. He and Amelia walked into the study side by side.

The conversation drifting from inside hit me like a thunderbolt, stopping me dead in my tracks.

The study door wasn't fully closed, leaving a small gap.

I instinctively followed them.

Through the gap, I saw Amelia and James standing inside.

Amelia's voice carried a cautious, probing tone as she broke the indoor silence.

"James, what if—I mean, what if." Her voice was full of hesitation. "Sophia really is pregnant? You saw how badly she was throwing up today. Could it be..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but her words were like an invisible hand instantly gripping my heart.

I held my breath, all the blood in my body seeming to rush to my ears as I nervously waited for James's answer.

Time seemed to stretch infinitely in that moment.

Then I heard an answer I would never forget for the rest of my life.

James was as cold as ever, mixed with contempt that came from deep in his throat.

James seemed to snort, his tone utterly casual, as if discussing something completely unrelated to him.

"Impossible." He denied it firmly, without even a hint of hesitation.

"I took precautions every time. How could she possibly be pregnant?"

"But..."

"No buts." James cut her off, his voice carrying a condescending, all-knowing mockery. "Even if, and I mean if, she really was carrying my child."

He paused. His words were like poisoned ice picks that pierced through the door gap, accurately penetrating my eardrums and stabbing into my heart.

"A woman like her who used every dirty trick to climb into my bed would only use the child as a tool to tie me down and blackmail the Smith family."

He gave me no buffer, continuing, "I would never acknowledge a child born from such a scheming woman, let alone want it."

These light words fell like the sharpest guillotine blade.

Completely severing the last weak thread of my fantasy about keeping this family intact for the child's sake.

So this was how low I was in his eyes.

The child I treasured and fought desperately to protect was, in his eyes, just a "tool" used by a "scheming woman" to blackmail him.

An "mistake" he couldn't care less about and wouldn't even acknowledge.

I thought that even if he misunderstood me that night, after two years of marriage, he would see my sincerity. But it was just my wishful thinking all along.

My heart felt instantly hollowed out, then stuffed full of cold broken glass, each breath bringing sharp pain.

Tears flooded out. All the sadness and despair blocked my throat, nearly suffocating me.

I had naively thought that even without love, I could at least give my child a nominally complete home, so the child wouldn't have to be like me, enviously watching other children with loving parents at the orphanage.

But now I finally woke up.

I was wrong—terribly wrong!

A child who wasn't wanted, wasn't loved by their father, and was even hated and rejected by their father, growing up in a cold, broken family, would only be more pitiful and tragic than I was at the orphanage.

'James, you don't deserve to be my child's father.' I thought.

An unprecedented coldness and determination swept through my entire body like a cold current, freezing all tears and weakness.

I silently backed away from that study door that was like the entrance to hell, without alerting anyone inside.

Walking to the second-floor terrace, the cold night wind brushed my burning cheeks but made my mind unusually clear.

I took out my phone, its screen light reflecting on my pale but incredibly determined face.

Everything I gave up to marry him now seemed like an even bigger joke.

He probably doesn't know, and wouldn't believe, that I'm not his accessory, nor am I a useless vase.

Back when I was a teenager, I had already joined the country's top computer science association. My interest in computers is no less than my love for him was.

My cool fingertips slid across the phone screen as I searched for a number that had almost been forgotten—Andrew Anderson.

Andrew was my senior, and also my guide into the elite hacker team Shadow Circuit Studio during my university years.

Back then, because Indigo wanted me to spend more time with her, and because I wanted to try hard to be a good wife to James, I temporarily left that place.

Now, for the child in my womb, and to leave the Smith family, I should make plans early so my child and I can live well without him.

The phone was answered after just two rings, and Andrew's voice came through, as warm and concerned as always.

"Sophia."

Memories from university came flooding back, and the corners of my mouth lifted unconsciously.

Compared to these two years of marriage, those university years were the best four years of my life.

Back then, I didn't spend all day crying in a cold, empty room, and I wasn't dragged up in the middle of the night to be used as a tool for venting sexual desires without any tenderness.

Only computers filled my life like warm sunshine.

Hearing Andrew's familiar and sincere greeting again, compared to James's ice-pick words just now, my nose stung, but I forced it down.

My voice was very calm, calm without a ripple, yet carrying a force of burning bridges.

"Andrew." I took a deep breath to steady myself before speaking again. "I've decided to come back."

"Does Shadow Circuit Studio still need me?"

Andrew, on the other end seemed stunned for a moment, then his voice was filled with undisguised joy and support. "Of course, we need you! Sophia, your position has always been open. We've all been waiting for you to come back."

"Tomorrow." I said decisively, my gaze turning toward the city's neon lights in the distance, my eyes cold and sharp.

"But before that, I need you to help me with something."

"Name it."

"Help me draft a divorce agreement."

His best friend was a nationally renowned top lawyer, famous at a young age. Only a lawyer like that could help me break free from James.

Andrew showed no surprise, only a trace of concern in his voice. "No problem."

Hanging up, I gripped it tightly, as if drawing strength from it.

'James, the child you don't want, I want. The background and abilities you look down on will become the foundation of my life. This absurd marriage you've controlled is time to end completely. My future is in my own hands.' I thought to myself.