"For my sake?" I almost laughed out loud. "So that means using my money to arrange exclusive, personalized services for her?"

My question made him lose his dignity, and his tone turned cold.

"Cecilia, do you have to be so unreasonable? Em's father showed me great kindness. On his deathbed, he asked me to look after her. What else could I do?

"She's an orphan with no family, and her health is poor. What's wrong with helping her? It's just a few thousand dollars in treatments. That's nothing for our household. Can't you be a little more generous?"

"Generous?" I repeated the word. It felt absurd.

He always had endless reasons.

Emma was his mentor's daughter, so she needed his care. Emma's health was poor, so she needed his concern. Emma was alone in the world, so he had to give her the warmth of family.

What about me? I was carrying his child. What did that make me?

In the end, this standoff concluded with my retreat. I did not want to make a scene in public like some shrew. That would only make me look more pathetic.

Zachary drove me home. The atmosphere in the car was suffocatingly tense the entire way.

He seemed to realize his words had been too harsh. He softened his tone and started trying to placate me.

"Alright, Cece, don't be angry. It was my fault. I should've told you beforehand. I promise it won't happen again. I'll change the password on that card tomorrow. From now on, only you can use it. Is that okay?"

He parked the car downstairs and turned to take my hand. His palm was warm and dry, capable of providing a sense of security as always.

"As for Em, I'll be more careful about boundaries from now on. But she is my mentor's only living relative. I can't just abandon her completely. Just take pity on her and don't hold it against her, okay? She's different from you. You grew up cherished by your parents, and now you have me. She has nothing."

This script was no different from the one I had heard countless times before.

I was tired. I did not want to argue anymore. I nodded and said quietly, "I'm not feeling well. I want to go upstairs and rest."

Seeing that I was no longer pressing the issue, he visibly relaxed. A smile returned to his face. "That's right. Pregnant women shouldn't get angry all the time. It's bad for the baby. Come on, let your husband carry you upstairs."

He was always so attentive to me. He peeled fruit for me. When I was sick with morning sickness, he patiently rubbed my back and helped me breathe. If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I might have believed he truly loved me.

Just like that, the matter seemed closed.

Zachary did as he promised. The next day, he went to the spa and changed the password. He canceled the secondary card, leaving only the primary card in my hands. He became even more gentle and considerate toward me, practically granting my every wish.

My mother hired the best nutritionist, who prepared different broths and nutrient-rich meals for me every day to support the pregnancy. The first thing Zachary did when he came home from work each day was make sure I finished the broth.

"You've worked hard, honey. For our baby's sake, drink a little more." He would carefully skim the oil off the surface with a spoon and feed it to me spoonful by spoonful.

I was almost fooled by this version of him, convinced that everything at the spa that day had been nothing but my imagination.

Until one day, I accidentally discovered an identical thermos in the trunk of his car. It was empty, but the inside still carried the faint scent of herbal broth and chicken.

That was the broth I had drunk the day before. I remembered clearly. I did not like the taste of the herbs, so I only drank half a bowl of it.

Zachary took the remaining half, saying it would go to waste otherwise. He claimed he would drink it himself. It turned out he had not drunk it. He had packed it up and given it to Emma, who apparently also needed the nutrition.

My heart sank to the bottom at that moment. I did not make a fuss. I simply placed the thermos back where I found it.

A few days later, it was time for my prenatal checkup. Zachary had promised long ago that he would come with me, but just as we were about to leave, he took a phone call. His expression changed instantly.

"What? A leak? Alright, drive carefully on your way back. I'll head over right away!"

He hung up and looked at me apologetically. "Cece, I'm sorry. The pipes burst in Em's apartment. The place is flooded right now. She's on her way back, and I need to go help her deal with it."

"Can you have my mom go with you to the checkup? I'll head straight to the hospital as soon as I'm done here."

Emma again. Her emergencies always came at such convenient times.

I looked at his anxious face and asked calmly, "Is it that important? More important than our child?"

He froze, as if he had not expected me to ask that.

"Cece, how can you say that? These are two completely different things. This is a safety hazard. There could be danger! The prenatal checkup is just a routine examination. With Mom there, you'll be fine. Be good and don't overthink it."

He leaned down and kissed my forehead, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'll be back soon."

With that, he grabbed his car keys and left without looking back. The moment the door closed, the living room fell into dead silence. He said to have his mom go with me, but his mother was on vacation in the tropics. Zachary knew this better than anyone.

Half a month ago, he had personally driven her to the dock, smiling as he told her to have fun. He said he would take care of me at home, so she should enjoy herself without worry.

My chest tightened. I could barely breathe. I leaned against the wall and took slow, deep breaths. I could not get worked up. Not for the baby's sake.

It was fine. I could do this without him.

I picked up my phone, about to call my best friend, Leah Palmer, to come with me. However, I remembered she had an important contract negotiation today. I did not want her distracted because of me.

I would go alone. I changed my clothes and headed down to the parking garage.

I walked to our usual parking spot and stopped short. The space was empty. My white sedan was gone.

That car had been a gift from my father on my 20th birthday. He said he hoped my journey through life would always be smooth and easy.

That car had been with me from college graduation to my marriage to Zachary. It was one of my most treasured possessions.

Zachary had said that now that I was pregnant, I should not drive, so I had not checked on my car in nearly six months.

A wave of intense unease washed over me.

With trembling hands, I dialed Zachary's number. The phone rang for a long time before he picked up. In the background, I could hear the chaotic sound of rushing water and Emma's delicate sobbing.

"Hello, Cece? What's wrong? Are you not feeling well?" Zachary's voice sounded impatient. "I'm dealing with a situation here. The shutoff valve is stuck, and water's going everywhere."

I forced myself to stay calm and asked, "Zachary, where's my car?"

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds.

"Oh, the car." His tone was casual. "Em lives in a remote area. It's hard to get rides there. I let her use it to get around a while back. I forgot to tell you. Did you need the car today? Just hail a cab to the hospital. It's easy enough."

"You gave my car to her?" My voice echoed through the empty garage, carrying a thread of desperation I had not even realized was there.

I had chosen every ornament hanging in that car. No one other than my parents and Zachary had sat on the passenger seat, and now, just like that, he had handed over something so precious and personal to another woman.

"It's just a car." Zachary's patience had clearly run out. "Cecilia, can you not make things difficult for me right now? There's water everywhere over here! I'm hanging up. Get a ride yourself. I'll reimburse you for it."

The line went dead. I stood there holding my phone in front of the empty parking space, feeling like the world's biggest fool.

Reimburse me? Did he think everything could be measured in money? Did he think my dignity, my feelings, could all be given a price tag?

In the end, I called for a ride. Sitting in the back seat, I watched the city scenery blur past the window. The winter sunlight in Halfort was pale and weak, offering no warmth at all.

The driver was a talkative middle-aged man. He must have noticed I looked unwell because he tried to lighten the mood.

"Headed to Ford Maternity Hospital for a checkup? You look great. I bet the baby's doing wonderfully."

I managed a weak smile but said nothing.

The car moved smoothly along the main road and stopped at a red light. I glanced out the window absently, and my gaze froze.

In the adjacent lane sat a familiar white sedan, parked crookedly. It was my car. In the driver's seat sat Emma. She wore carefully applied makeup and a cream-colored cashmere coat.

She was using the rearview mirror to touch up her lipstick, a smug little smile playing on her lips. That lipstick was a limited edition I had bought just last week. I had left it in the car's storage compartment. I had not even used it once yet.

The light turned green.

Emma was probably inexperienced; she hit the gas too hard. The car shot forward with a lurch, swerving visibly and nearly sideswiping the vehicle next to her. Horns blared. She looked startled and started jerking the wheel in panic.

My driver muttered under his breath, "How does someone like that even have a license? She's just a menace on the road."

My heart jumped. I watched helplessly as my car careened through traffic. It scraped the back of a bus, then suddenly swerved hard to the right, heading straight toward us.

Everything happened in a split second. I heard the driver's terrified scream, and then a deafening crash. The violent impact threw me forward. My abdomen slammed hard into the back of the front seat.

Pain ripped through my abdomen and radiated outward. The world spun around me.

In the last second before I lost consciousness, I felt something warm flowing from between my legs. The bright red color stained my white dress.

…

When I woke again, the sharp smell of disinfectant filled my nose. I lay in a hospital bed surrounded by blinding white.

Instinctively, I reached for my belly. It was flat now.

A nurse walked in. Seeing I was awake, her face softened with sympathy. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

My lips moved. The voice that came out was raspy and unrecognizable. "My baby..."

The nurse's expression dimmed. She looked down, avoiding my eyes, and said quietly, "Ms. Sinclair, I'm so sorry. The impact caused severe hemorrhaging. We couldn't save the baby."

My world shattered completely. The baby I had carried for six months was gone, just like that.