I prepared everything, pretending nothing had happened. But as I lay in the operating room, I couldn't stop shaking. Axton sensed something was amiss, but his eyes showed no remorse. Under the anesthesia, I quickly slipped into unconsciousness.

As I drifted in and out of awareness, I overheard Sterling and the doctor talking.

"The surgery was very successful. We've successfully removed Miss Reyes's uterus, so she won't be able to have children anymore."

Sterling let out a sigh of relief, but I couldn't hold back my tears. After the doctor left, I pretended to wake up.

Sterling looked at me with eyes red from emotion, speaking with a touch of reluctance:

"Honey, the doctor said there were severe complications during the surgery, causing internal bleeding. They had no choice but to remove your uterus..."

Sterling covered his face with his hands, as if saying those words had sapped all his strength.

A day ago, seeing him like this would have brought me to tears, and I'd have embraced him with gratitude. But now, a coldness spread through me, realizing someone could pretend to love so deeply without truly caring.

"But it's okay. As long as we're together, life goes on. If we can't have kids, we can adopt. Don't worry, I promise I'll never leave you."

Sterling pulled me into his arms, and my tears kept falling. I couldn't tell if they were for the betrayal I'd experienced or for the child I had lost.

Sterling kept watching me after suggesting adoption, anxious that I might refuse.

"Fine, let's go adopt tomorrow. I'll go with you."

He looked thrilled when I agreed, but his expression changed when I mentioned tagging along.

I knew he worried I'd recognize the child as his own. Sterling tried to convince me to rest, citing my recent surgery, but I wouldn't hear it.

I explained that having just lost a child, visiting the adoption center might cheer me up. Hearing this, he couldn't argue further.

He settled me in before receiving a call from his assistant about work. I knew he was likely going to meet Cora, so I smiled and saw him out.

Once he was gone, I discreetly followed him. Sterling navigated the corridors until he reached a room upstairs. As soon as he entered, a woman embraced him—I recognized her as Cora Hicks.

Cora, blushing, threw herself into Sterling's arms. Sterling hugged her, playfully tapping her nose.

"I thought you said you were under the weather. Why are you up and about?"

"I just missed you, so I said I wasn't feeling well."

Sterling didn't mind Cora's little lie and lifted her onto the hospital bed.

"The room belongs to Mrs. Morgan from Morgan Enterprises. Mr. Morgan really spoils her."

"Yeah, she only sprained her ankle, but Mr. Morgan called in the whole hospital's team of experts to treat her."

"Wow, that's some serious pampering! Must be amazing to be Mrs. Morgan."

Hearing the nurses chat in the corridor left a bitter taste in my mouth. Silently, I answered them in my mind—being his wife is anything but amazing.

In the hospital room, the two of them embraced, exchanging words that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Did you get everything sorted? Is she on board?"

"She's going to the adoption agency tomorrow herself. I'm worried..."

"What are you worried about? Just bring the baby to her tomorrow, and I'll handle the rest."

"With you by my side, I feel at ease."

Sterling was peeling a pear for Cora, his skillful hands revealing his familiarity with such a task. I recalled when I was hospitalized before giving birth, my appetite was terrible, and all I craved was something sweet. I had asked him to peel a peach for me, but he turned me down without a second thought.

"The nurse is here to look after you. She can peel a peach for you."

Back then, I thought he simply wasn't interested in doing mundane tasks. But now I understood; it was just that I wasn't someone he'd willingly do them for.

"Oh Sterling, you have no idea how much I've missed you." Cora leaned against his chest, her fingers instinctively tracing the outline of his Adam's apple.

The air between them grew increasingly intense, and unable to hold back, Sterling kissed her deeply. They were in a slightly ajar hospital room, completely lost in each other's embrace.

I took out my phone and recorded a video of them together. I thought witnessing this would break me, but tears came first.

As their clothes became more disheveled, I couldn't stand it any longer and fled, overwhelmed by despair.

Sterling returned to my hospital room late at night. As usual, he kissed my forehead. He brought me some oatmeal, urging me to rest well; the concern in his eyes temporarily clouded my sense of reality. But remembering what he'd been doing earlier filled me with disgust.

His phone buzzed with a message, and his expression shifted.

"Did you cancel something?"

"The bank card and ID details expired, so I just canceled them instead of updating."

Hearing this, Sterling didn't press further. After tidying up, he lay down on the bed next to mine and fell asleep.

I took his phone, which was charging nearby. During our courtship, he had registered my fingerprint for my peace of mind. But now, it served as a reminder that it was no longer valid. He had deleted it long ago.

Finally, I used Cora's birthday to unlock the phone. How confident he must have been that I wouldn't check, setting such an obvious password.

I found no concrete evidence, assuming they had been cautious enough, perhaps meeting face-to-face. But I accidentally opened Twitter. Sterling’s main page was an alias I had never seen.

The account had been active for three years, filled with posts lamenting over his lost love—coinciding with when we met. On Cora's wedding day, he posted a video of himself drinking heavily, with empathetic comments below.

Two years ago, the updates transitioned to his daily life with Cora, just as I was joyfully planning our wedding.

Sterling had never missed Cora's birthday parties, yet sent me the same uninspired gifts via his assistant. He traveled with her, always dismissing my requests due to "work." He eagerly anticipated their child, yet continuously missed my prenatal appointments.

Reading post after post, I felt as if my heart was being torn apart—overwhelming sadness stifled my voice, preventing me from waking Sterling. I could only smother my sobs with my hands.

Putting the phone down, tears silently soaked into my pillow.