Chapter 3

That night, Vincent and I rode back to the estate together.

He looked miserable, staring out the window the entire ride.

As we neared the gates, he suddenly asked, "How many months along are you?"

"Almost seven."

Vincent let out his trademark mocking chuckle. "Get rid of it."

He gave me a lazy, detached glance. "Bringing this kid into the world is just setting it up to suffer, don't you think, Serena?"

He reached out with long, cool fingers and brushed them softly across my eyebrow.

His tone was unnervingly tender.

I froze, a chill sinking deep into my bones.

"Just kidding. Look at your face. You went through hell to get pregnant—how could I make you abort it?"

He pulled back, his usual indifference snapping back into place.

When the car stopped, he got out without glancing at me once.

My hand instinctively rested on my rounded belly.

He was right about one thing: I had suffered endlessly for this baby.

I used to hate anything bitter. Even swallowing a capsule made me cringe in disgust.

When Vincent learned that, he used to keep gourmet chocolates in his coat pockets. Every time I took medicine, he would gently pop a sweet truffle into my mouth.

Getting pregnant this time hadn't been easy. Vincent was always "too busy," and whenever he did have free time, he spent it blowing off steam with other women.

To conceive, I had swallowed countless foul-tasting herbal concoctions without blinking. I was terrified of needles, yet I let fertility shots puncture my abdomen over and over until my skin was a map of dark bruises.

Vincent remained in a foul mood all evening.

When he wrapped his arm around me in bed as usual, he muttered abruptly, "I'm not seeing Chloe anymore."

He held his breath, waiting for my reaction.

I stayed silent for a long time.

Impatient, he grabbed my wrist. "Your husband is talking to you. You're supposed to answer."

I turned my head toward him. What difference did it make without Chloe? There would just be an Ashley, a Brittany, or someone else.

I gave him another obedient smile, looking genuinely happy for him.

"Whatever makes you happy."

Vincent snapped. He threw back the duvet and stormed out of the bed.

As he grabbed his clothes to leave, my quiet voice cut through the room.

"Vincent, did you forget why we got divorced the first time?"

Now it was Vincent's turn to go silent.

After a long pause, he clenched his jaw, his voice thick with raw frustration. "Serena, what am I supposed to do with you?"