Chapter 4

When I woke up, I was in a hospital room filled with the smell of disinfectant.

The emptiness in my abdomen told me the result even before I asked the doctor.

"Mrs. Smith, I'm sorry."

The doctor took off his mask, his tone professional and cold.

"You arrived too late. The prolonged exposure to low temperatures and excessive blood loss meant we couldn't save the baby."

I stared at the pale ceiling, not crying, not making a fuss.

There is no greater sorrow than a dead heart.

The ward door was pushed open.

It wasn't Killian who walked in, but his private lawyer, Mr. Jones.

He walked to the bedside in a businesslike manner, took out a pre-signed check from his briefcase, and placed it gently on my bedside table.

"Mrs. Smith, Mr. Killian is accompanying Miss Elena for her preoperative examination and cannot get away."

"I am very sorry for your loss. However, this was, after all, an accident."

"This five-million-dollar check is 'spiritual compensation' from Mr. Killian. He hopes you can adjust your mindset and not bring your emotions home."

I looked at the string of zeros, feeling incredibly ironic.

My child.

In his eyes, was worth only a flimsy check.

Even a face-to-face comfort became a luxury.

"Take it away."

I said hoarsely.

"I don't..."

Before I could finish, several orderlies suddenly barged in and started roughly packing my things.

"What are you doing?"

"Sorry, Mrs. Smith."

The head nurse stood at the door, avoiding my gaze.

"Mr. Killian ordered that you be transferred to a general ward downstairs."

"This VIP ward faces south and has the best lighting. Miss Elena said she's afraid of the cold and wants to stay here to get some sun. Mr. Killian has already agreed."

I was trembling with anger: "I just had surgery too! I need rest too!"

"Halen, don't be so selfish."

The sound of a wheelchair rolling came.

Elena appeared at the door, pushed by Killian's assistant. She was wrapped in a thick blanket, wearing a victor's smile.

"Sis Halen, you have a strong constitution, a general ward is enough. But I'm weak, I need the best environment to recuperate."

She waved her hand, signaling the orderlies to be faster.

Then, she wheeled herself to my bedside, her gaze falling on the check.

"Tsk tsk, five million."

Elena leaned close to my ear, her voice as contemptuous as if teasing a stray dog.

"Halen, look, you're not that noble either."

"Killian gives a little money, and you have to obediently give up your place, obediently listen."

"Take the money and roll to the general ward, don't be an eyesore here. Oh right, you probably don't need a caretaker in the general ward, you can take care of yourself."

I looked at her exquisitely made-up face.

And looked at the check again.

Finally, I had no strength to argue anymore, nor the strength to tear up the check and throw it in her face.

I just wept silently, letting them drive me out of that sun-filled ward like throwing out trash.

---

After staying in the noisy four-person ward for three days, I insisted on being discharged.

Returning to the manor, I just wanted to shut myself in the studio.

There were the competition design drafts I had prepared for two whole years—my only hope to regain a foothold in the fashion world, and the capital I relied on to survive after leaving Killian.

However.

The moment I pushed open the studio door, I felt the sky collapse.

A mess all over the floor.

It looked like a blizzard had just passed through.

Except those white snowflakes were my design drafts, shredded into pieces.

That was hundreds of manuscripts!

The painstaking effort of countless days and nights!

Now they had turned into waste paper, covering the entire floor.

And the culprit, Elena, was sitting in the middle of the room, holding a pair of sharp scissors, looking at me innocently.

"Ah, Halen, you're back?"

Her hand shook, and the last intact draft was cut.

"What are you doing!!!"

I rushed over like crazy, pushed her away, and knelt on the floor trying to piece together the fragments.

"My drafts... my competition..."

"What's wrong?"

Killian arrived upon hearing the noise.

He saw the paper scraps all over the floor, frowned slightly, and then seeing Elena, who almost fell from my push, immediately strode forward to support her.

"Halen, what are you going crazy about now?"

"She cut my design drafts! They're all destroyed!"

I held up a handful of shredded paper, shouting at him in breakdown.

"That's my life! Why did she do this?!"

Killian looked down at Elena in his arms.

Elena immediately reddened her eyes, raising her right hand holding the scissors, which was trembling violently.

"I'm sorry... Killian, I also wanted to help Halen organize the studio..."

"But my hand... my hand is uncontrollable..."

"I wanted to cut the loose threads, but my vision blurred, and I cut the wrong thing... I didn't mean to..."

What a perfect excuse.

The doubt in Killian's eyes instantly dissipated, replaced by deep pity.

He held Elena's trembling hand and turned to look at me, his eyes full of disappointment and disapproval.

"Halen, you're being too aggressive."

He sighed, his tone rational to the point of coldness.

"Elena's brain tumor is pressing on her motor and optic nerves. Trembling hands and blurred vision are normal pathological reactions."

"She meant well and wanted to help you, but her body didn't allow it."

"Isn't it just a few drawings?"

Killian looked at my breakdown as if watching an unreasonable clown.

"You're a designer, the talent is in your brain, not on paper."

"Since they're destroyed, just redraw them. Why shout at a sick person over such a small matter?"

Redraw?

The deadline is in two days.

That was two years of blood, sweat, and tears!

He actually said it so lightly.

"Killian Smith."

I slumped in the pile of shredded paper, looking at this man I had loved recklessly for four years.

Finally.

I was completely disappointed in him too.

"Okay."

I wiped my tears and stood up from the floor.

"I don't blame her."

Because I knew.

That I became like this wasn't just Elena's fault, but more because of Killian's indulgence.