Chapter 3

Orphanage? Did Luther send her daughter to an orphanage?

When Clara rushed into the hospital, only Luther remained outside the blood collection room. Through the glass door, she saw a girl who looked remarkably like her lying obediently on the hospital bed.

That was Niamh Tanner. A long, thick needle was being driven into her spinal cord.

Clara's lips quivered. It took her several seconds to find her voice. "Luther… are you even human? She's too little to endure a procedure this serious!"

She tried to rush in and take Niamh away, but Luther swiftly held her back.

"Sean and Niamh are both my children. They're siblings by blood. Don't worry, Clara. I'll make it up to you and Niamh someday. I'll let her stay by your side, and we can finally live together as a proper family."

Clara turned to him with bloodshot eyes, her voice breaking into a desperate cry.

"You abandoned her at an orphanage for five years! I don't need you to make up for anything! If you love Monica and her son so much, why didn't you just divorce me? Why do you have to hurt my daughter…"

Hearing the commotion, Monica turned and saw them locked in each other's arms. Resentment flashed in her eyes.

She quickly composed herself, then spoke in a pleading voice. "Children forget pain as they grow up. Clara, please, I'm begging you. Save my son. I know you hate me, but I'll do anything, as long as it makes you feel better."

Then, out of the blue, she dropped to her knees and slapped herself across the face.

The sharp smacks rang out one after another, each one making Luther wince, his heart breaking. He lifted Monica into his arms and gently wiped her tears away.

When he spoke, his words were bone-chilling. "I'm Niamh's sole legal guardian. You have no right to refuse. And haven't I treated you well enough over these past three years? If I hadn't cared about how you'd feel, Monica wouldn't have had to live alone away from her son."

In a daze, Clara remembered how Luther used to defend her the way he now defended Monica.

During a street robbery in a foreign country, Luther had stepped in front of her without hesitation, shielding her from danger.

On the day he proposed, he had knelt atop a snow-capped mountain and held out a ring.

"Clara, I stand here at the summit, above all things, yet beneath you alone. Marry me, and I'll spend the rest of my life loving you."

The utter devotion on his face back then overlapped with the expression he wore now.

For a moment, Clara felt confused, as though all the love Luther had ever shown her was nothing but an illusion she had conjured.

"If you had cared so much about how things could've gone wrong, why did you ignore the possibility that I could just divorce you?"

Luther paused, then let out a derisive laugh. "If you wanted a divorce, you would've done it years ago. You're the one who can't live without me, Clara.

"As long as you stop making things difficult for Monica, I promise I'll let Niamh come home and stay with you after the surgery."

By then, the bone marrow extraction was complete. The doctor gestured for Luther to head to the testing room and wait for the results.

He and Monica didn't spare Clara another glance. They simply followed the doctor downstairs.

Clara looked at Niamh, still unconscious in the hospital bed. She lay there like a discarded rag doll, tossed carelessly onto the mattress.

Clara swore she would never accept her daughter being used like this. She wiped her tears away and checked the message that had just come through.

"The immigration process will be completed in three days."

At that moment, tears spilled from her eyes. She no longer tried to hold them back.

Fortunately, over the next two days, Luther stayed in the room next door with Monica and Sean. Meanwhile, Clara grew a little closer to Niamh.

Niamh was painfully small for her age. At five, she looked no older than two or three. She also refused to speak.

Clara couldn't help but want to hold her and cry her eyes out. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she gently stroked Niamh's hair.

"Daddy's busy with work, so I'm here to keep you company for now."

Once they were far from this place, she would tell Niamh the truth.

On her way back after paying the hospital bill, Clara ran into Monica in the elevator. It was the first time they had been alone.

"Don't be so hostile toward me, Clara. We're best friends. We share everything, including men."

So much for being best friends.

Monica had called her that for many years, and Clara foolishly believed her.

"Is that what being best friends means to you? Becoming a mistress and giving birth to a bastard? You had so many other options. Why did it have to be Luther? And to think I was so kind to you. Even when your family went bankrupt, I looked after you and helped you find a job."

Monica's expression grew even more contemptuous at Clara's words.

"Who the hell wants your charity? Back when my family was still wealthy, I only kept you around to make myself look better by comparison. But who would've thought you'd actually land yourself a man with potential?

"And you had the nerve to act like you could help me out. You were just trying to show off. Don't act like you're a saint!"

She admired her freshly manicured nails and pointed to the floor above. "You're just like your daughter, who deserved to be trampled under my feet."

Only then did Clara notice the surveillance footage playing on the monitor outside the hospital room.

Sean grabbed Niamh by the hair and slapped her across the face. "Thief! How dare you steal my cupcakes!"