Chapter 1

After twelve hours of contractions, I finally got through to Alfred Finley.

"She's here. The little girl you always wanted."

There was a long silence before he said,

"Got it. We'll talk later."

By the time the busy tone came, the tears had already run down into the pillow.

I looked down at the crumpled little face beside me.

"Vivienne Sutton, Daddy's busy. He'll come see us soon."

The woman in the next bed was on the phone too.

"Honey, you bought three different brands of changing pads. That's way too much!"

She hung up and waved the screen at me.

"My husband started stocking up three months ago. He practically wanted to move the whole baby store home."

Then her eyes flicked to my empty bedside table, paused, and she said nothing more.

That one look said everything.

That night I held my daughter and turned over and over, unable to sleep.

I sent one more message.

"She has your eyes. Come see her."

No reply.

At midnight, quick footsteps came down the hallway.

Jeanette Winfield sat up at once, her voice all delight.

"He's here, he's here!"

The door swung open.

A man walked in fast, flowers and a thermos in his hands.

Jeanette reached out, smiling.

"What took you so long? Your son and I have been waiting forever."

He bent down and kissed her forehead, then straightened up.

The instant he saw me, he froze where he stood.

I looked at him too.

At the man who had told me he was away on business.

I suddenly laughed.

Laughed until the tears fell.

1

There was a note stuck to the thermos in Alfred's hand.

【You worked so hard, Jeanette. Edmund Finley is wonderful too.】

He'd even picked the name.

When I was six months pregnant, Alfred had pressed his hand to my belly and said if it was a girl we'd call her Vivienne.

"After the first frost the whole world turns clear and clean. I want our daughter's whole life to be that pure."

But now he held Jeanette's son, palm against the baby's back, moving so gently it was like he was afraid the child would break.

Vivienne woke beside me.

She was hungry and started to cry, and Alfred heard it.

But he didn't turn his head.

The smile on Jeanette's face slowly froze.

She looked at the stiff line of his profile.

"Alfred, do you know her?"

I held my daughter and waited for him to speak.

He just moved his eyes away and said quietly, "Someone who helped me once."

Six years of marriage.

Twelve hours of labor.

In the end it was worth only that one line.

I remembered the year he first took over the company, when the city development project stalled and the bank froze every account.

I transferred every cent of savings I'd built up before we married into his account.

Three hundred seventy thousand, not even a spare dollar held back.

That night he held me and said,

"Emily Stephens, once the project takes off, I'll give you the best life there is."

The nurse pushed the door open, two forms in her hands.

She went to Jeanette's bed first.

"The baby's birth information is all recorded. We just need your signature to confirm the father's name."

Alfred took the pen.

His name went down on the birth record of Jeanette's son.

The nurse paused when she turned to the second form.

She looked at me, then at Alfred.

"Ms. Stephens has listed the same man as the father. Could you confirm?"

The room went quiet.

Jeanette's face went white.

She stared at Alfred, her lips shaking.

"Her baby is yours too?"

Alfred didn't answer.

I clutched the swaddle. Vivienne was still crying.

At last Alfred glanced at her.

"Leave it blank for now."

The baby in Jeanette's arms stirred.

Alfred turned at once to soothe him, patting gently.

"Don't disturb Jeanette. She needs to rest."

The nurse stood there, awkward, and held the form out to me. "Ms. Stephens, we'll leave the father's name blank for the time being."

But her father was standing two meters away, holding someone else's son.

While I was pregnant I used to imagine it.

Whether Alfred would be the first to hold her on the day she was born.

I never imagined he wouldn't even put his name to her.

Vivienne cried harder.

The nurse frowned and touched her cheek.

"The baby's blood sugar is a little low. Did the family bring formula?"

I opened my mouth and couldn't speak.

I had nothing.

It wasn't that I hadn't wanted to prepare.

It was that Alfred had said he would bring all of it.

The suitcase by Jeanette's bed was still open.

Bottles, a warmer, diapers, a wrap, tiny clothes.

Every item brand-new and neatly arranged, even the colors matched.

Alfred was silent a few seconds, then took a small can of formula out of the case.

Jeanette caught the cuff of his sleeve.

Her eyes went red, her voice small and wronged.

"Alfred, Edmund's stomach is weak. The doctor said we can't just switch his formula."

Alfred's hand stopped in midair.

A few seconds later he put the formula back.

"Emily, the hospital has spare milk. Make do for now."

I looked at him.

"That's your daughter."

He frowned. "I know."

I held Vivienne, shaking with sobs, and something inside me was hollow.

Jeanette's eyes reddened further. "Alfred, I really didn't know—"

"Don't dwell on it."

Alfred cut her off, his voice very gentle.

"You just gave birth. You mustn't cry."

When he looked back at me his voice turned cold.

"Emily, don't make a scene here."

I was in pain for twelve hours.

Signed the surgical risk consent alone.

Was wheeled into the delivery room alone.

Called him alone after the baby was born.

And in the end, it was just making a scene.

I looked at him and suddenly felt so tired.

I pushed the birth information form back into the nurse's hands.

"Leave the father's name blank. Not for now."

"From now on there's no need to fill it in at all."