Whitney stared at the divorce papers, feeling as though an unseen force was squeezing her heart mercilessly.

Janice had actually gone through with it.

Fine. They could play happy family, but from that day forward, Whitney would live for herself alone.

"What's the gift you wanted most, Whitney?" Colton suddenly asked, a crease of confusion on his forehead.

"Why didn't I know about it?"

He reached for the papers, but she snatched them away in the nick of time.

He raised an eyebrow. "Keeping secrets from me now?"

Whitney forced a smile. "Like you keeping the secret of someone else being three months pregnant until I stumbled upon it?"

His face went pale, and he shot a glance at Janice, his voice dropping to a whisper, "Didn't we agree to never speak of this again? I told you why we decided to keep the baby..."

He hesitated, then his voice softened. "I kept it from you because I was scared you'd leave me."

'Scared I'd leave?' Whitney was brimming with skepticism.

However, she thought that the thing Colton had been most afraid of losing was usually the first thing he lost.

Janice's eyes welled up with tears. "This is all my fault... I shouldn't have gotten involved with Mr. Jones that night, and I definitely shouldn't have let his grandmother find out I was pregnant... I never meant to tear you two apart. It wasn't intentional..."

Janice's voice trembled, tears teetering on the edge, as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

Colton spun around, his voice soft and soothing. "Don't speak like that. How could any of this be your fault?"

Whitney could not bear to watch the scene unfold and turned to leave.

That was when he noticed her leaving and hurried after her.

"Whitney, where are you going?"

"Just doing some errands."

He scowled at the thought of her going out in the storm. "It's pouring outside. I'll take you."

Before he left, he could not help but fuss over Janice.

"Make sure Janice stays warm, so crank up the heat. She's been off her food, so keep dinner light. Stick to the doctor's orders for her vitamins, no improvising."

He rattled off instructions for what felt like an eternity, leaving nothing to chance for the expectant mother.

Whitney watched him from the doorway, a silent observer.

At last, he finished his litany of orders and got into the car.

Watching him, Whitney let out a small, knowing smile. "Colton, you're going to make a great dad someday."

Colton paused, caught off guard by her words.

He reached for Whitney's wrist, his voice laced with a pain he tried to hide. "Whitney, I'll only ever accept a child that's yours. You know I'm trapped in this situation. Can you not say things like that?"

His hand was as warm as it had always been, but to her, it felt like it had lost all its heat.

Without a word, Whitney gazed out the window, leaving the car in a heavy silence.

The car eased onto the road, and in the thick of an awkward silence, Colton tried to break the ice.

"Whitney, with the rain coming down like this, what's taking you to Regent Road?"

Before she could answer, his phone rang.

Janice's voice, laced with tears, came through the speaker. "Mr. Jones... I'm in so much pain..."

Colton's expression shifted in an instant. "Don't worry, I'm on my way back!"

He ended the call and turned to her in a panic. "Whitney, we're close to Regent Road. Can you manage a cab from here?"

"Sure," she replied steadily as she opened the door and stepped out into the rain.

The downpour drenched her in seconds. She stood by the road, watching his car speed away with a wry smile.

'You almost found out what I was up to, Colton,' she mused.

The storm was relentless, and no cabs were in sight. Whitney trudged through the rain, her umbrella useless against the wind, tears indistinguishable from the rain on her face.

When she finally arrived at the county clerk's office, she was a mess.

"Hello. I need to file for divorce."

She handed over the divorce papers, miraculously dry.

The clerk gave her a once-over, then the papers.

"After a one-month cooling-off period, you can come back for the divorce certificate."

Outside, the rain had stopped. Whitney looked up at the clearing sky, feeling a bit of the heaviness lift from her heart.

Maybe, just like that day, brighter days awaited her post-divorce.

…

Back at the villa, the hall was deserted.

From upstairs, Colton's gentle voice floated down. "The Little Prince met a fox..."

He was spinning tales for Janice's unborn child.

Whitney's mind was a foggy mess as she dove under the covers, desperate for sleep. She had no idea how long she had been out when her throat scorched with dryness.

"Water..."

She croaked more than once, but the only response was the drone of a story being told in the room next door.

"Mr. Jones, I just wish our kid turns out like you, so handsome and smart..."

Janice's voice was dripping with sweetness.

Colton's voice came through with a light laugh. "Don't sell yourself short. You're pretty great yourself, kind, gentle, and innocent..."

Whitney did not need to see them to picture Janice blushing. They sounded like the perfect couple, dreaming up a perfect future for their perfect unborn baby.

She tried to sit up to grab the glass of water, but her limbs were like lead, and she ended up knocking it over.

The glass shattered on the floor, and as she bent to pick up the pieces, the world went black, and she crumpled to the ground.

Her palm was a mess of cuts and blood. Gritting her teeth, she cleaned the wounds as best she could, then fumbled for some fever medicine and forced it down.

All the while, the laughter from next door did not miss a beat.

Back in bed, Whitney's mind wandered to a feverish night in college when Colton had stayed at her dorm to watch over her for three endless nights.

His eyes had been red when he said, "Whitney, your pain hurts me more."

'What about now, Colton? Do you remember saying that?' she wondered.

Her tears were silent as they soaked into her pillow. She shut her eyes, surrendering to the engulfing darkness.

"Whitney! You're awake at last!"

When she opened her eyes the next day, Colton was there, lying next to her.

He touched her forehead, his eyes filled with worry. "Why didn't you call me when you got a fever? Do you have any idea how freaked out I was to find you passed out?"

'Would calling you have made a difference? You were busy with Janice and your kid, weren't you?' she thought bitterly.

"I'm fine now," she said, her voice raspy as she brushed his hand aside.

Colton's brow creased with concern. "You're not happy?"

"It's nothing."

"I know when you're not happy," he said, bending down to plant a gentle kiss on her hair.

"Remember how you've always wanted to go horseback riding at the ranch? Let's go, okay?"

He spoke with a tenderness that harkened back to better days, and began to assist her in getting ready with a soft touch she could not resist.

Just as she was dressed and about to head out, Janice peeked in shyly. "Mr. Jones, Mrs. Jones, are you off to ride horses? I'm so jealous. I've never been. Can I come along?"

She caressed her swollen belly, her eyes filled with hope as she looked at Colton.

"No, you're pregnant," Colton said firmly, his brows knitting together.

Janice's lip quivered. "I really want to... It's not good for the baby to be cooped up all the time..."

Her voice trailed off, laced with a subtle plea.

Whitney could not bear to hear any more and turned to leave.

She knew Colton all too well. He was a sucker for that kind of doe-eyed begging.

Sure enough, as she stepped outside, she heard Colton give in with a resigned sigh. "Fine, but you have to do exactly as I say."

Once in the car, Whitney saw that Janice had indeed tagged along. Colton was ever the gentleman, helping her in and keeping a protective hand on her back as if she were made of glass.

However, once they arrived, his attentiveness was all for Janice, as he seemed to forget who he was there to comfort.

"Watch the steps.

"The sun's strong, so wear your hat.

"Take it easy, don't overdo it."

Each word of caution was a cut to Whitney's heart, each one sharper than the last.

Whitney slipped away to the stables, her hands deftly saddling a calm mare.

Colton had taught her those skills himself, on a day she would never forget. On her twentieth birthday, they galloped across his private racetrack from dawn until dusk.

However, the man who had once shown her the reins was preoccupied, lavishing attention on another.

He was full of care and concern for Janice, adjusting her gear with a tenderness that made Whitney's heart ache. He clung to Janice's reins as if they were a lifeline, not once loosening his grip, until his phone buzzed.

A frown creased his forehead as he checked the screen.

"Mr. Jones, don't let me keep you," Janice said sweetly, releasing him from his duty.

"I've got the hang of it now. I can manage on my own."

Colton hesitated, double-checking Janice's position before he stepped away to take the call.

Whitney watched him from the sidelines, the sun casting a long shadow behind Colton as he tapped his phone in that familiar, absent-minded way she knew so well.

"Mrs. Jones," Janice called out, her voice dripping with honey as she rode up close.

"Ever wonder what happens when two horses crash into each other? I've always been curious."

Without waiting for an answer, Janice spurred her horse hard. In a flash, the horses collided, the mare rearing up in panic. Whitney's grip on the reins was iron, but it was no match for the frenzy that took hold of her steed, who bolted towards the fence, screaming.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Janice's grip 'slip', and she tumbled from her mount.

"Janice!"

Colton's voice tore through the air as he lunged to catch her, just in time.

Meanwhile, a thundering herd, spooked and wild, broke free, charging straight for Whitney.

"Colton... Save me!" she cried out.

Whitney's cry was lost in the tumult of galloping horses.

She caught a glimpse of him cradling the limp form of Janice, bolting for the edge of the arena without a backward glance.

A cloud of dust kicked up by the stampede stung her eyes. The reins slipped through Whitney's fingers, and as she was catapulted into the air, a memory flashed before her: Colton's words at that very racetrack when she was 20 years old.

"Whitney, just call out to me, and I'll always turn back."

The ground rushed up to meet her, and the world went dark.

Through the haze of pain, the last thing she saw was Colton's retreating figure, rushing Janice to the car with desperate haste.

The agony in her ribs was sharp, but it paled next to the shredding pain in her chest.

Curled up on the ground, the drumming of hooves drawing near, Whitney let her eyelids fall.

Whitney awoke to a stabbing pain.

Blinking open her eyes, she found herself in a hospital room. A slight turn of her head revealed Colton at her bedside, dark shadows under his eyes.

"Whitney, you're awake," he said, leaning forward, his voice heavy with relief.

"Are you hurting anywhere?"

Her throat was parched, and she could not speak.

The last thing she remembered seeing was Colton's back as he carried Janice away and the thunderous approach of the horses.

"Janice got hurt," Colton blurted out, urgency lacing his words.

"She's got a bleeding disorder, and the hospital's out of blood..."

Whitney's heart sank.

Colton gripped her hand. "You're the only match. Whitney, can you give some blood to her?"

The request was utterly ludicrous.

Whitney jerked her hand back, the sudden movement aggravating the wound in her side and making her wince sharply.

He had just stood by as she was knocked down, offering no explanation, and then, he expected her to go to Janice's aid, battered and bruised.

"I won't do it," she rasped, each word slicing through her like a blade.

Colton's brow was creased with worry. "Just hang in there for the baby's sake, okay? Once the baby's here, it'll all be over."

An icy shiver ran down Whitney's spine. She looked into Colton's eyes, hoping to find a flicker of remorse or tenderness, but those eyes she had adored for two decades held nothing but a frantic push.

"Mr. Jones, Ms. Moore isn't doing well..." the nurse whispered from the doorway.

Colton shot up and nearly dragged Whitney to her feet. "Please, Whitney. I'm begging you."

Whitney was escorted to the phlebotomy room. As the needle slid into her vein, the pain was so intense it took her breath away.

The nurse was puzzled. "Is it really that painful? I was as gentle as I could be."

Whitney just shook her head, her tears falling freely. She used to dread needles, and Colton would always be there to cover her eyes and soothe her gently.

"Hang in there, Whitney, it'll be over in no time," he used to say.

However, Colton stood outside as her blood was drawn, impatiently checking his watch, not even sparing her a glance.

With 400ml of blood gone, Whitney's world began to spin. The nurse had her sit and rest, but Whitney's gaze followed Colton as he hurried back to Janice's room without a backward glance. She followed unsteadily and paused at the half-open door.

Janice lay on the bed, her complexion ghostly, her wrist swathed in thick bandages. Colton was at her side, holding her hand with a tenderness that seemed to overflow from his eyes.

"Don't worry, it's all over now," he soothed in a low voice. "The kid's doing great too."

Whitney's eyes landed on Janice's wrist, and then she froze.

There it was, the silver cross bracelet she knew too well.

She had picked it out herself three years ago in an old church, while she prayed for him.

Colton had put it on with such care, vowing, "I'll never take this off, not in my lifetime."

However, that same bracelet was clasped around another woman's wrist.

He had given away the bracelet she had bought as a symbol of their blessed future to Janice.

A sharp pain stabbed through Whitney's heart, and she could not stand to look any longer. She spun around and stormed out.

Back in her hospital room, she curled up on the bed, her tears drenching the pillow. She discovered the hard truth that a shattered heart could physically ache, making it hard to even breathe.

The nurse came by for her rounds.

"Mrs. Jones, could you finish up your medical history report?" the nurse asked, handing her the form.

Whitney filled it out on autopilot, her pen hesitating just a moment at 'marital status' before she pressed down hard and wrote 'single'.

"Mrs. Jones, is there a mistake here?" the nurse questioned, puzzled.

"You've put down 'single' when you're married to Mr. Jones, aren't you?"

"I'm not," Whitney replied, her voice steady.

"He won't be my husband much longer."

"Whitney, what did you say?"

The door to the room burst open, and there stood Colton, disbelief etched across his face.