Chapter 4

I typed out a line with trembling fingers.

【Would you mind telling me the date they registered their marriage?】

【March 23, 2019】.

The strength drained from my fingertips, and my phone slipped and clattered to the floor.

I sank to the ground, the whole world spinning, everything around me swelling and shrinking without pause as the tears fell beyond my control.

That day was the fourth anniversary of Dustin and me getting together.

It was also the day I was five months pregnant, when the baby's heartbeat stopped and I was forced to have the pregnancy induced.

I was lost, calling Dustin over and over, and getting no answer.

I called Geraldine, but her coworker said she was unconscious after a rear-end crash on the highway.

When I opened my eyes again, he was sitting at my bedside, holding my hand, his eyes red and swollen.

“Rosie, I'm sorry. I got back too late.”

“There was unrest where I was on my trip, and our partners moved us somewhere safe. I caught the fastest flight I could, but I still couldn't……”

His voice broke as he spoke, and his tears struck the back of my hand.

“We'll have another baby.”

I threw myself into his arms and wept, murmuring curses at him.

“You bastard, why did it take you so long to come back!”

But deep down, all I thought was that at least he was safe.

The bitter joke was that when I needed them most, the two people I loved most were doing everything they could to betray me.

And I, like a fool, stayed lost in a false love and a false friendship, never knowing a thing.

I took a wrench from the tool cabinet, broke open the locked drawer, twisted off the cap, and tipped the pills into my mouth.

Right as I was about to swallow, my phone rang.

Without thinking, I assumed it was Dustin, and I got ready to confront him before I died.

But the instant the call connected, I snapped back to my senses.

“Hello, is this Rosamund?”

“How long ago did I buy that run-down house of yours? Why haven't you moved out yet?!”

“You think I won't smash the whole place to pieces?”

When I heard the word “house,” I spat out the pills and rushed to the old family house.

That was what Dad had given me before he died. He said it was the best thing he could leave me in this life.

The moment I reached the door of the old house, I saw a fat man kicking at it.

I charged forward like a madwoman, and one kick from him knocked me flat to the ground.

A sharp, bone-deep pain shot through my waist. I slowly pushed myself up, my voice hoarse.

“What are you doing? This is my house. Who gave you permission to touch it?!”

“If you lay another hand on it, I'm calling the police!”

The fat man sneered.

“Call the police? On what grounds?”

“On the grounds that I'm the registered owner of this house, Rosamund!”

I planted myself in the doorway and refused to budge an inch.

The other, thinner man smacked the fat man across the head.

“You idiot, why are you wasting words on her!”

Then he pulled out a document and handed it to me.

“Calling the police really won't help you.”

“Half a year ago you transferred this house to Ms. Geraldine. It's her personal property now.”

“If you keep squatting here and won't move out, we'll be the ones calling the police.”

I snatched the document, and when I saw the signature in the transferor's line, my whole body shuddered.

My own name, written in my own hand, sat plainly at the top.

Forcing down the fear rising in my chest, I took out my phone and dialed Dustin, but no one picked up.

A car stopped at the door, and Dustin helped Geraldine out, her steps careful.

I rushed over and flung the document in his face, my chest heaving hard.

“Dustin, didn't you say no one lived in this house, that it was only being rented out?”

“Then what is this?!”