Chapter 2

A chill flooded Celia's heart. Why had her period come so suddenly?

She hurriedly started the car. By the time she'd driven halfway down the mountain, she was drenched in cold sweat. The pain was unbearable.

She quickly pulled over and called Violet. "Violet, are you back? Can you come pick me up?"

"Where are you? What's wrong?"

"I'm on the mountain road leading away from Fulton Estate…"

An ambulance's siren tore through the night. Violet had been smart enough to call an ambulance.

By the time Celia was rushed to the hospital, it was already 1:00 am. After a series of tests, she was given a devastating verdict—she'd miscarried at six weeks along.

Tears slipped from the corner of her eyes as she lay on the hospital bed. She hadn't even gotten the chance to meet her child.

Violet was furious as she cursed Basil out. "Didn't that jerk know you were pregnant? I can't believe he still sent someone to take you to Stellar Court so he could wring you dry!"

Celia's cycle had never been regular, and she hadn't even realized that she'd gotten pregnant.

The baby must've been conceived last month. She hadn't been summoned to Stellar Court then—she'd gone to Ardenia.

Basil had been on a business trip there, and he'd actually had her brought to him. She'd spent three whole days with him before flying back.

Back then, he'd even warned her that they'd used up this month's quota last month. She hadn't expected him to still send for her this month, right on schedule.

Just then, a female doctor knocked and came in, holding a report. "You were far too careless. How could you take birth control when you knew you were pregnant? You wouldn't have lost the baby."

Birth control?

Both Celia and Violet froze.

Celia and Basil never used protection. How could there be traces of birth control in her system?

Violet's temper flared. "That jerk! He secretly fed you birth control for that tramp, Stella? If he didn't want any kids, he could've said so! Why do something this cruel?"

A tight, needling ache spread through Celia's heart. Was Basil really behind this?

Every time they were done, he would have the household staff bring her truffle oatmeal or chicken broth. Had he spiked the food with the medicine?

Last month, in Ardenia, he hadn't had the chance to drug her. Was that why he'd slept with her again this month? So he could dose her?

In an instant, she felt all her strength drain away.

"Wait here. I'm going straight to the Fulton residence to make them pay with their lives."

Violet, shaking with rage, grabbed her phone and headed for the door.

"Violet." Celia's voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper. "Don't go."

"Lia!" Violet spun around, stunned. "He killed your baby! Are you just going to let that go?"

Celia slowly shut her eyes and drew in a deep breath. When she opened them again, there was nothing left but ice-cold hatred and resolve.

"He and I have already decided to divorce. I don't want to have any more ties with him."

She paused and looked at Violet. Then, she continued sharply, "But I will find out exactly how my baby died. I won't spare any of the people who did this!"

Her gaze was so cold and ruthless that even Violet shivered. This was the Celia she knew—soft on the surface but iron to the core.

She put down her phone and gripped Celia's icy hand. "Don't worry. We'll get revenge together. Whoever it was will pay dearly!"

…

Past midnight, a clap of thunder jolted Celia awake. She tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

She stared at the small, dim nightlight as her thoughts drifted. She remembered what happened when she was 10…

She didn't arrive in Hutton until she was 12.

She'd followed Basil for 12 whole years and had endured so much to reach his side. She'd given him everything she had to give.

She hadn't meant to get pregnant. It really was an accident.

Before she knew it, tears were streaming down her face. It felt like fate had stripped away her last piece of armor, and the strength she'd worn in the daylight crumbled all at once.

The baby was the final ember of her three-year marriage to Basil, but even that was now gone. Gone!

Celia covered her face with both hands and broke down, sobbing.

…

The night was black as ink. Outside, the rain hammered against the windows in a wild, percussive frenzy.

Basil shot upright in bed, gasping for air, his forehead slick with sweat. He'd had that dream again.

Icy water that froze him to the bone wrapped him completely. No matter how he struggled, he couldn't breathe. He could only watch himself sink into endless darkness. The suffocation was so real that it left him shaken.

He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration and got up. He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the city drowned in the downpour. No amount of rain could wash away the shadow tainting his heart.

He went to the bar cabinet, poured himself a heavy glass of whiskey, and knocked it back. The burn scorched down his throat, but it couldn't numb the sudden panic and unease clawing at him.

Something had happened. It jarred his mind. It made a dull ache pulse in his chest, leaving him feeling restless and unmoored.

…

The following morning, nurses wheeled Celia into the operating room. Cold metal instruments, blinding lights, and that persistent tang of disinfectant surrounded her.

The doctor frowned as she skimmed the chart. "There's still retained tissue in the uterus, so we have to perform a uterine cleaning procedure. You know you have a genetic condition, and you're allergic to all anesthetics. We can't use anesthesia this time."

That meant Celia would have to endure the procedure in a near-fully conscious state—she would have to grit her teeth and push through the pain of being scraped raw.

She nodded, her body trembling with fear and cold. She clenched her teeth until her jaw ached, and her nails bit into her palms.

When the instrument entered, the sharp, tearing pain crashed through her in an instant. She couldn't help letting a muffled cry slip out. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead.

It hurt. It hurt so badly! She felt like her organs were being churned to pieces.

Celia's tears spilled uncontrollably, mingling with her sweat and blurring her vision. She bit down hard on her lower lip until it bled, and the tang of iron flooded her mouth.

She wanted to remember this pain, remember who made her endure it, and remember the agony of losing her baby. She wouldn't let whoever had killed her child off the hook!

The pain came in waves, crashing and crashing again until her nerves frayed. She felt like a lone skiff in a storm—she was seconds from being ripped apart.

Soon, she passed out.

At the same time, Basil glared at his phone as he sat in the CEO's office at Fulton Group. It was already 10:00 am, yet he still couldn't reach Celia. Her phone was powered off.

How dare she disappear without a word?

They'd agreed she would come to his office that day to sign the divorce papers. Was she going to stand him up?

A blaze of anger flared in him. He tossed his phone onto the desk, feeling annoyed. He didn't know why, but he'd been on edge since morning. He felt like something bad was about to happen.

Did it have to do with Celia? What could happen to her?

At worst, she'd try some trick to milk his sympathy or delay the divorce. He wanted to see what else she could possibly pull.