Chapter 4

As I lay on the operating table, the doctor was going over some instructions, but I didn't hear a single word.

All I could think about was the first time I saw two lines on the pregnancy test.

Back then, I'd even planned how to decorate the nursery, and imagined what kind of father Bradley would be once he found out.

But now, lying on this cold operating table, I could only think of one thing: getting rid of this baby as fast as possible.

It was already nine at night when I got home.

I pushed the door open and saw Freya.

She was sitting on our sofa, wearing my slippers, hugging my cushion.

Bradley was sitting beside her, and turned his head when he heard the door.

Seeing me stay silent, he frowned and explained,

"I've handed you the chairman's seat, and I owe Freya something in return. I thought it over, and I've decided to just let her live here with us."

I nodded, too drained to argue, and walked straight toward the bedroom.

He gave a furious laugh.

"Then give her your bedroom."

I said, "Fine."

He probably hadn't expected me to agree so easily. He froze for a second, then got even angrier, gritting his teeth.

"Forget it. Give Freya the room where your dad's things are kept."

"Fine. I'll go clear it out now."

Before he could say anything else, I turned and walked toward that room.

After my father passed, I'd moved all his belongings in there.

Whenever I missed him, I would come sit in that room for a while, as if he were still by my side.

But this time, when I pushed the door open, I froze completely.

The room had been emptied out. Everything inside was gone, leaving only four white walls and an empty window.

I stood in the doorway, and all the blood rushed to my head.

"Bradley," I turned around, my voice shaking, "where are the things from that room?"

He stood in the living room, his face dark.

"Freya said keeping a dead man's things is bad luck, so I had someone throw them in the trash cans outside."

Hearing that, I ignored the sharp pain in my lower belly and bolted outside.

The downpour came out of nowhere, fat raindrops slamming into my face, until I couldn't tell rain from tears.

I knelt beside the trash cans and dug through them with both hands. I was sure I could find it. I was sure I could find it.

The rain soaked me through, my hair plastered to my face, my vision so blurred I couldn't see a thing, but I wouldn't give up, digging through one trash can after another.

A sheet of metal cut my hand open, blood running down mixed with the rain. I shook it off and kept digging, but I couldn't find anything.

I sank helplessly to the ground, my vision blacking out in waves.

Just then, the phone in my bag rang.

With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone, wiped the rain off it with my sleeve, and my assistant's messages popped up one after another:

Ms. Baxter, Mr. Weiss said he wasn't satisfied with how you reacted after he brought Freya James home.

So he's pulled his investment...

The shareholders are all up in arms now, saying you're not capable of holding the chairman's seat and demanding you step down immediately...

A sweet, metallic taste suddenly rose in my throat, and my vision started to blur...

Back at the villa, Freya sat on the sofa, a probing note in her voice.

"Mr. Weiss, if it had been Leopold Dickerson bringing a secretary home today, Ms. Baxter definitely wouldn't have reacted like this..."

Bradley paused a moment, then said coldly,

"Freya, does it take an outsider like you to judge whether Ivy loves me or not?"

"I just enjoy seeing her love me to the point of madness."

Freya's face went white in an instant.

Just then, Bradley's phone rang.

His assistant's voice came from the other end.

"Mr. Weiss, Ms. Baxter collapsed at the door and coughed up blood. A kind stranger took her to the city hospital."

The glass in Bradley's hand hit the floor with a crack, wine splashing everywhere.

He rushed out the door, driving at breakneck speed, running two red lights before he reached the hospital.

When I woke up, I opened my eyes and saw a man sitting at the edge of the bed.

Seeing that I was awake, he spoke in a hoarse voice.

"Ivy, let's stop fighting..."

I looked at him, paused for a moment, and asked softly,

"Who are you?"