Chapter 3

As I drifted into unconsciousness, I vaguely felt cold instruments enter my body.

I tried to struggle, to keep this child, but only tears fell.

The child was like an accident.

Coming and going in a rush.

When I woke up, the ward had suddenly become noisy.

I slowly blinked, looking at Mrs. Hayes sitting by my bedside, her eyes red as she asked,

“Such a big thing, why didn’t you discuss it with us?”

Julian sat beside Mrs. Hayes.

His face was unreadable. Mrs. Hayes hit him again, scolding him,

“What kind of husband are you? Your wife is in the hospital having an abortion, and you’re out messing around!”

Julian remained silent, letting Mrs. Hayes hit him.

I tugged at my dry throat, wanting to tell Mrs. Hayes to stop.

But I didn't have to.

“Stop it!”

Brittany stood in front of Julian.

“She chose to have the abortion herself! What does that have to do with Julian? Who knows what shady things she was doing behind his back! If she didn’t have a guilty conscience, why would she secretly get rid of the baby like this?”

Brittany’s words were like a dull knife stabbing into my chest.

I looked at her in disbelief.

She met my gaze, not an ounce of guilt in her eyes, but rather a righteous indignation.

“You tell me.”

“Did you cheat?” Brittany reached out to grab my hand.

“What did my brother ever do to you that you would do such a thing behind his back, and then let him be swallowed by gossip?”

Brittany’s grip was strong. With a slight tug.

A searing pain shot through the back of my hand, blood splattering from the torn vein.

The IV drip still hanging was roughly pulled out, and I winced in pain.

“That’s enough.”

Julian called out to Brittany.

“Stop causing a scene.”

Julian’s gaze fell on the back of my hand. He pressed the nurse’s call button.

“She hasn’t recovered yet. Let her rest.”

Julian sent Mr. Hayes, Mrs. Hayes, and Brittany away.

Brittany refused.

Brittany was still throwing a tantrum.

But Mrs. Hayes pinched her ear, and the ward finally fell silent amidst Brittany’s wails.

Julian watched the nurse arrive, saw her stop the bleeding on my hand, and re-insert the needle.

Then he heard the nurse say, with a look of disgust,

“Honestly, the things people do these days.”

Julian understood the nurse’s sarcasm.

But his refined upbringing wouldn’t allow him to argue with a young nurse in such a setting.

He saw the nurse out.

Closed the door.

Pulled up a chair and sat in front of me.

He looked at my pale, sickly face, an indescribable feeling in his heart, like damp, heavy cotton stuffing his chest.

He felt suffocated.

“Alice.”

Julian’s hand, hanging by his side, clenched. He looked at the person on the hospital bed.

“Explain yourself.”

Julian held my medical records.

He had read many books, seen countless proposals and contracts.

He was a man who had faced many situations, but never before had a scene made him feel so choked up, so breathless, simply by sitting there.

It felt as if something incredibly important was slipping from his grasp.

“If I hadn’t heard ‘operating room’ over the phone, if I hadn’t sent someone to check on you, how much longer would you have kept it from me?”

Julian’s voice was tinged with anger.

“Today it’s an abortion. What about tomorrow?”

Julian, with his natural air of authority, could exert immense pressure when looking at someone without expression.

I looked at him.

I couldn’t decipher what Julian was thinking.

He was the one who didn’t want this child.

He was the one who wanted to give up this child.

Now, why was he questioning me?

Was it to solidify his position in front of his family, to avoid being seen as the villain?