Bella grabbed a cab and tailed Ada in silence.

At the hospital, she stopped at the doorway, the scene inside slicing through her chest like glass.

She bit down hard on her lip, forcing herself not to make a sound.

Steven's son lay hooked up to an IV. His little face was pale, fragile, heartbreakingly weak.

Steven was pacing, agitated. "What the hell is wrong with you people? You can't even treat a kid's fever?"

The doctor at the bed—Bella knew him. Jeffrey. Steven's closest friend.

"Steven, the kid's got a cold and a fever from a chill," Jeffrey snapped. "If you can't handle it, don't rip into my staff.

"And seriously, I don't get you. Didn't you say you'd pay that woman off once the kid was born? Now one sniffle and you're dragging me here? What if Bella finds out?"

Silence stretched before Steven finally spoke, voice rough, worn down. "What do you expect me to do? He's just a kid. Every time I try to send Ada away, Ollie cries nonstop. I can't let him cry forever, can I?"

Jeffrey let out a sharp laugh. "Please. Is it really the kid who can't let go, or is it you? You know damn well which one."

Steven groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Don't start. I've only ever loved Bella. But my family needs an heir. You have to keep this from her—I won't let her get hurt. And Ada... she gave me a child. I can't just throw her aside."

Right then, the door creaked open. Ada slipped in, tears streaking her face.

"Steven, it's all my fault. I didn't take care of Ollie. He spiked a fever after you left last night. He cried for you the whole time, but I didn't want to disturb you and your wife..."

Steven pressed a hand to the boy's burning forehead and sighed, his anger fading.

He pulled Ada against him. "Don't cry. I'm not blaming you. This is on me—I haven't been a good dad."

Ada clutched his shirt, fingers tracing his chest. "I know I'll never compare to your wife, but I can't stand seeing our son like this..."

Steven's eyes hardened. "No one gets to make my son suffer. And you—take care of yourself. Look at you, crying your eyes out."

He reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek. The softness of it cut straight through Bella's chest.

Her fists clenched so tight her nails carved crescents into her palms—yet she felt nothing.

Or maybe nothing could ever hurt worse than this.

The rain was coming down hard when Bella left the hospital.

Soaked and half-numb, she drifted through the storm like a ghost. Water blurred her eyes, but it couldn't wash off the shame burning under her skin.

By the time she reached Beaufort Corp, her heels had torn up her ankles—blood mixing with rain on her skin.

The receptionist froze, then sprinted over. "Ms. Beaufort! What happened? Should I call Mr. Rocca? He'd freak if he saw you like this."

Bella didn't flinch. Of course they thought Steven still loved her. Everyone did.

But love like his? Built on lies.

She brushed past the receptionist, voice rough. "I'm fine. Rain caught me off guard. Grab me a clean outfit."

She slid her black card into the girl's hand and locked herself inside the nearest meeting room.

The second the door shut, Bella crumbled.

She thought those photos had numbed her. But seeing them in real life—Steven, Ada, and that kid playing happy family—ripped her wide open.

Her sobs filled the room, raw and messy. She wanted to scream. How could he be the same guy who once promised forever and now raise a kid with someone else?

A knock snapped her out of it.

The hallway was empty. Just a stack of clean clothes, her black card, and a warm cup of tea sitting at the door.

Underneath the cup: a handwritten note. [Ms. Beaufort, don't worry. I didn't call Mr. Rocca. I know you don't want him to worry.]

Bella's jaw clenched. She ripped the note to pieces and dumped it in the trash.

Clothes in hand, she changed in the restroom. A little while later, the Beaufort heiress was back—flawless, untouchable.

She marched into the CEO's office and threw herself into work. No breaks. No distractions.

Steven kept texting. She didn't open a single one.

By evening, drained and cold, she headed home—ready to pack up and disappear first thing in the morning.

But the second she stepped inside, a kid's voice called out from the living room—and there was Ada, standing like she belonged.

Ada wore a maid's uniform, and across the room, a little boy had trashed the place.

When Bella walked in, Ada popped up from beside Steven and flashed a polite smile. "Mrs. Rocca, you're back. Madam Miranda sent me to look after Oliver."

Bella's lips pressed tight, breath catching.

How dare Steven—how dare he bring them here?

Steven noticed her face shift and rushed in. "Babe, I texted you this afternoon. Maybe you missed it. Mom brought Oliver back from an orphanage. She said he was meant to be with us."

All the heartbreak she'd spilled in that empty meeting room was gone. What was left burned hot.

They really thought she was stupid.

"Steven, are you trying to rip my heart out on purpose?" Her voice shook with fury.

Steven frowned, thrown by how hard she snapped.

"Don't be mad! You know my family needs an heir. I saw how much you still grieve for the baby we lost, so I gave in to Mom. If you don't like it, I'll have him sent away right now."

Everyone knew Steven loved Bella. His one rule—Bella first.

Even now, he was ready to toss out his own son if she asked.

That kind of twisted devotion only made her stomach turn.

She was about to lay it all bare when the boy—Oliver—suddenly wailed.

"You're a bad lady! Daddy, why are you with this bad lady? Don't you want me anymore?"

The shrieking drilled into Steven's skull. "Oliver! Who told you to talk like that?"

Then to the household staff: “Are you all deaf? Get him out of here!”

Staff scrambled to scoop up the crying kid and rush him off.

Ada panicked. "Mr. Rocca, it's all my fault. Please don't blame Oliver."

As she said it, her eyes clung to Steven, all soft and pitiful.

Steven sighed, voice dropping. "I'm not blaming him. He's just a kid—he doesn't know better. Go take care of him."

Bella watched it play out, her chest icing over with every second.

She yanked away from Steven and went upstairs, slamming the door in his face.

He lingered outside, frustrated but still trying to sound gentle. "Babe, it's my fault. I'll send the kid away first thing in the morning. If you don't want me with you tonight, that's fine. Just rest. We'll talk tomorrow."

Bella slid down against the door, listening as his footsteps faded. Her chest ached so deep it felt hollow.

What difference did it make if the kid stayed or not? Blood doesn't just disappear. In the end, the one who'd have to leave... was her.

She didn't answer. She locked the door.

Alone, she slumped against the cold wood. Once Steven’s footsteps disappeared, whatever strength she had left gave out—and she slid to the floor.

She was just so tired—bone-deep, soul-deep tired.

She didn't know how long she sat there until her phone buzzed. She unlocked it with numb fingers.

A text—from an unknown number.

Ada.

[You shut Steven out. Don't blame him for coming to me.]

Bella's eyes flew wide. She pushed to her feet and stepped out of the bedroom.

At the end of the hall, the study light glowed.

The door hung half open. Inside, Ada's syrupy voice drifted out. "Steven, that hurts..."

Steven's grunt cut rough. “Didn’t want pain, but still trying to seduce me? You really don’t know how to behave—even after having a kid.”

Bella froze, ice tearing through her veins.

She never thought Steven would fall this low, this fast.

Ada's soft moan slipped out, shaky but deliberate. "I just saw how upset you were after fighting with your wife... I wanted to cheer you up."

"Don't make excuses for being easy," Steven snapped. "If you want Ollie to stay in this family, don't pick fights with Bella."

Bella couldn't take it.

She didn't even know how she made it back to her room.

In the bathroom, she gripped the sink and retched until her stomach burned.

Only when the pain twisted sharp did she slowly lift her head to the mirror.

No tears left.

She was the proud Beaufort heiress. This—this wreck—wasn't who she was meant to be.

She sat hollow for what felt like forever, until the sky bled pale. Only then did she finally crawl into bed.

This time, she was done. She didn't want him anymore.

Bella came downstairs and froze. Ada was setting the table like she owned the place.

After a whole night of working her charms on Steven, Ada was no longer in her maid uniform. She'd traded it for a sleek designer dress that clung to her.

Her face carried just enough of a resemblance to Bella's to make the comparison sting. No wonder Steven picked her.

"Mrs. Rocca, you're up. Come have breakfast," Ada said, smiling too sweetly.

She tilted her head, just enough to show off the love bites along her neck. On her wrist, a glittering bracelet caught the light.

Bella's chest tightened. She knew that piece instantly. The Rocca heirloom Miranda used to wear. Steven had once begged for it on Bella's behalf, but Miranda refused, saying it didn't belong on a woman who couldn't give the family an heir.

Now it sat proudly on Ada's wrist.

Bella clenched her fists, the weight of it all crashing down. Everything she'd held onto felt like a joke. She'd kept quiet out of respect for their families' history, but in the end, Miranda had chosen Ada as the one to stand at her side.

Even Steven's buddy at the hospital yesterday knew about Ada. The only idiot in the dark was her, strung along by Steven's empty promises.

A bitter laugh slipped out. If Steven had really wanted a kid, she could've accepted that and walked away. But after what happened in the study last night, her chest still burned. She almost wished she could just slap him across the face.

Almost—but not quite enough. She wanted him to regret it forever.

Steven strolled downstairs, looking fresh, like he'd slept easy. When his eyes caught Ada's, she ducked her head, all shy.

Then he turned and saw Bella's pale face. His smile faltered. "Babe, did you catch a cold in the rain yesterday? Maybe I should skip work and stay with you."

Every second near him made her feel suffocated, dirty.

"No," she said flatly. "Work's more important. I'll rest at home."

Steven frowned. She used to cling to him; now she was shutting him out. But he knew when she made up her mind, there was no swaying her.

He looked at the staff. "Take good care of Bella."

They traded glances, unimpressed by his little show, and nodded.

Just then, Ada stepped up and reached for Steven's collar. "Your collar's crooked. Let me fix it."

Without even thinking, he bent his head for her.

That tiny, thoughtless move cut deeper than anything else.

The staff sucked in a quiet gasp, eyes darting to Bella, afraid to even breathe.

Steven caught himself too late. He jerked back, forced a polite distance, and muttered thanks.

"I'm off to the office." He bent down to brush a kiss against Bella's forehead. "Be good. Wait for me to come back."

His voice was the same soft tone he'd used in the study last night.