"Isabella is old enough to be your mother and you still shamelessly became her boy toy? Pathetic."

Adeline's voice was razor-sharp, her eyes drilling through me like I was something she'd stepped in.

My chest tightened. The pain from my father's death never really faded—it just hid better some days. But her words cracked something wide open. My breath hitched, rage rising fast. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, tasted blood and forced it down.

That man—my father—was the kind who stood straight even when the world tried to bend him. He hated mistresses, never touched a drop of scandal. Even in death, he clung to dignity like armor. And now? They all spat on his name. Called him a failure. Said he raised a disgrace.

Maybe they were right.

I exhaled slowly and forced a crooked smile to my face.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm pathetic. Otherwise, why would I have believed your bullshit and been your secret lover for three years?"

The words hit heavier than expected. Her eyes flickered, something like guilt flashing across her face. But before she could speak, my legs gave out.

A wave of heat crashed over me as the room spun. My vision blurred. I staggered, clutching the wall for balance.

Her hand shot out instinctively, grabbing my arm. Her eyes widened the second she touched me.

"You're burning up," she muttered, her tone shifting.

I tore myself free, my body trembling from the effort. "None of your business," I spat, voice hoarse and raw.

She didn't back off. If anything, her grip tightened. "You're going to the hospital."

I tried to pull away, but she held on, unrelenting. Her perfume filled the air—once comforting, now nauseating.

"Let go!" I snapped. "Isabella's still waiting. I don't have time for your games."

Adeline's expression darkened, but before she could reply, the bathroom door creaked open.

"Well, well," came a slurred voice laced with venom. "Ms. Penna really is interested in my little boy toy."

Isabella leaned against the doorframe, eyes flicking over us with wicked amusement. She walked in slowly, owning the room like a queen surveying her court.

Adeline didn't flinch. "He has a fever," she said flatly.

Isabella's lips curled. "Since when is my man your concern?"

She wrapped herself around me, purring into my ear, "Come on. Let's go back and keep drinking."

Her touch felt like poison, but I nodded faintly. Pain and fatigue flooded every inch of me, but I'd learned how to perform. How to pretend.

Then Adeline said something I didn't expect.

"Isabella," she said, voice low and sharp, "humiliating the son of the man you once adored—is this your idea of love?"

The words hit like ice water.

Even through the fever haze, I registered what she'd said. Adeline—the woman who'd ruined my father, shattered my family—was now defending me?

Isabella's smirk vanished. Her expression turned to stone. "Ms. Penna, that's a low blow."

"He's burning up and you're still pouring drinks. Partying is one thing. But if he dies, it won't look good on you."

For a second, just one, I saw hesitation flicker in Isabella's eyes. She looked at me again and this time, her amusement faltered.

She masked it with a sneer. "Aw, Ms. Penna's grown a heart? Funny, you sure didn't have one when you dumped him five years ago."

Adeline didn't respond. She grabbed my arm and started dragging me out. I barely resisted. I didn't have the strength.

Behind us, Isabella cursed, voice sharp and shrill, but Adeline never looked back.

She shoved me into the back seat of her car. The leather burned against my fevered skin. I leaned my head on the cool window, eyelids drooping.

Then Isabella climbed into the front passenger seat without warning, her voice laced with challenge.

"Ms. Penna, where exactly do you plan on taking my man?"

Adeline didn't miss a beat. "If he ends up brain-damaged from the fever, your fun will be over."

Isabella scoffed but didn't argue. Maybe she saw I wasn't faking it.

The car sped off into the night. Silence stretched between them.

Then, quietly, Adeline said, "Where's our child buried? I want to visit him."

Her words sliced through me like a blade.

My fists clenched. Nails dug into my palms.

She didn't know. She thought the baby had died.

Five years ago, after her betrayal, she'd forced herself to give birth prematurely. A son. She hadn't even looked at him—just handed him over like trash.

And walked away. She never asked, never cared.

Later, she destroyed what was left of my life. I lost everything. So I left—with that child in my arms.

That boy, born with a failing heart, was the only reason I kept breathing.

Everyone assumed he'd died. And I let them. Because the last thing I wanted... was for her to find him.

"There's no need," I said coldly. "A child like him doesn't deserve a mother like you."

Adeline didn't deserve to be the mother of my son. If it hadn't been for that forced premature birth, Noel wouldn't have a heart condition. His tiny heart was a curse born from her selfish choice.

Suddenly, Adeline slammed on the brakes.

The tires screeched, jolting us forward. My body hit the seatbelt and Isabella's head nearly hit the dashboard. She scoffed, more annoyed than scared.

"Ms. Penna, the kid's already dead. What's the point of pretending to be a good mom now?" she sneered, her voice cold.

Silence followed. I turned, expecting Adeline to react, but she didn't speak.

She stepped out of the car, walked around and yanked Isabella out with surprising force. Isabella stumbled and fell onto the asphalt.

Adeline didn't look at her. She returned to the driver's seat, shut the door and drove off.

Now it was just the two of us.

The silence inside the car felt heavier than before. Outside, shadows slid past the windows, the world blurred and distant.

Thankfully, we reached the hospital quickly. After seeing the doctor, I didn't wait for Adeline to return with the medicine. I stepped outside and called a ride.

As the car pulled up and I reached for the door, it slammed shut.

Startled, I looked up to see Adeline standing beside me, waving the driver off. He left without a word.

"Are you in that much of a rush to go back to Isabella?" Her voice was sharp. "Gavin, how low are you willing to go?"

I stared at her.

How low?

I didn't know anymore. After the wedding ruined me, I stopped keeping track. I lost my job, my reputation and my future. Everyone I knew turned on me. Friends vanished. Strangers mocked me.

My parents' life savings vanished within a year. I sold everything just to keep up with the bills.

There was a time I stood on a rooftop, Noel in one arm, my mother's bills in the other. I thought about jumping. One fall and everything would end.

Isabella found me. She pulled me back and slapped me.

"Only the living can have hope," she said.

I didn't believe her. Still don't. But Noel was just a child. My mother didn't deserve to die just because I couldn't take it.

So I endured.

When Isabella offered to keep me, I only hesitated for three seconds before agreeing. I sold what was left of my pride.

I looked at Adeline and forced a smile. "Didn't you already know? I've always been this cheap."

I had once been foolish enough to fall in love with her. Later, I became a man who sold himself for money. But if that could save two lives, I didn't care.

Isabella humiliated me, yes, but she never withheld money. For that, I was grateful.

Whatever she wanted—lust, revenge—I no longer cared. Every insult, every night, I took it all. I called it penance.

Sometimes she laughed and said, "If your dad knew what you became, he'd crawl out of his grave just to die again." I'd laugh with her, but deep down, I wondered—if I gave up everything, would they come back?

Adeline's revenge after the wedding never stopped. One blow after another. If my father hadn't had that heart attack, maybe he could've cleared my name. But life wasn't kind enough for maybes.

Adeline stared at me now. Her face was calm, but her eyes weren't.

Then she said, "Get lost."

I turned around without a word, got into the next cab and went home.

As soon as I stepped inside, I heard Noel whimpering. My heart stopped.

I rushed to his room.

His face was red, his breath shallow, his body hot to the touch.

"Daddy... I feel awful..."

I picked him up, hands trembling and called for an ambulance. I rocked him gently, whispering whatever comfort I could manage.

The ambulance arrived quickly. I didn't even notice the black sedan parked down the street.

Inside, Adeline sat motionless, watching as the flashing lights faded into the distance.

Hours later, Noel was out of immediate danger. But the doctor's words hit hard.

"He needs surgery as soon as possible."

The estimate? Seventy thousand dollars.

I stepped out into the hallway, fingers numb as I pulled out my phone.

Then I called Isabella.

"Can I... get an advance of seventy grand?"

On the other end of the line, Isabella's voice oozed mockery. "So, you want more money again?"

"My son's sick," I said, trying to stay calm. "He needs surgery."

A pause. Then a lazy hum. "Fine. But tonight, I want to try something new."

My grip on the phone tightened. I swallowed the bitterness. "Alright."

Minutes later, a ping—fifty thousand transferred. But I wouldn't see the rest unless I fulfilled her request. And from her tone, I knew tonight would be worse than usual.

I turned back toward Noel's room, but bumped into someone—Adeline.

She stood there, arms folded, eyes full of disdain. "Gavin Cooper," she said coldly. "Still trying to use a child to tie a woman down?"

Her words hit harder than I'd admit. Once, I'd loved her. Believed her lies. Kept our relationship secret because she asked. Trusted her promise we'd go public once she got pregnant. Gave her everything.

I never tried to trap her with a child. I just wanted something real. But it had all been a game to her.

I laughed dryly. "Sorry to disappoint you, but this time, I actually succeeded in using a child to tie someone down."

Her fists clenched. She was seconds from exploding—but then she surprised me.

"Leave Isabella. Come with me," she said flatly.

I blinked.

"But I won't raise someone else's bastard," she added. "Just dump him on her. I doubt she'll let her own kid die."

The words stabbed deep. She had looked at Noel and still didn't recognize him?

I stared back, voice cold. "Even a donkey doesn't fall in the same hole twice."

Her jaw tightened. "You'd rather humiliate yourself for Isabella's kid?"

So that was it. She wanted me back. But I couldn't do it. Not anymore.

I said nothing.

Adeline scoffed and stormed off. "You don't know what's good for you!"

After she left, I returned to Noel's room, tucked him in, brushed his damp forehead. Then dragged myself to Isabella's villa.

By the time I left, dawn was breaking. My body ached, bruised from her hands—and the leather strap. The rest of the money had arrived.

Back at the hospital, I sat by Noel's bedside. His breath was steady, cheeks pale. I didn't notice my tears until one landed on his hand.

His eyes fluttered open. "Daddy... why are you crying?"

I wiped my face quickly. "It's nothing, buddy. The doctor said you can have your surgery soon."

His eyes lit up. "Really? After surgery... can I run like other kids?"

My throat tightened. I nodded. "Of course. We'll go to the amusement park. You can ride anything you want."

He smiled faintly and drifted off.

Later, I slumped on a bench in the hallway, finally closing my eyes—only to be jolted by a shrill voice.

"That's him! That shameless homewrecker!"

A woman in a fur coat and heels stormed toward me, fury on her face. Burly bodyguards flanked her.

Before I could react, she slapped me. Hard.

"You filthy rat!" she screamed. "You're the reason my sister is still single?!"

I staggered, stunned and then someone yanked my hair, forcing me down.

"Strip him!" she shrieked. "Let everyone see what this pathetic man really is!"

Crowds gathered. Some gasped. Others laughed. Hands grabbed at my clothes, yanking and tearing.

I struggled, humiliated. Then I heard it.

"Daddy! No! Stop hurting my daddy!"

Noel was crying, trying to reach me—but they held him back, shouting insults at a child who just wanted his father.