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Samantha’s POV

All around me, a sea of people moved with grace, draped in pristine white. An all-white garden party.

This baby shower filled me with warmth; I couldn't wait to finally hold the little one we’ve been longing for these past two years, the child who would bring a million joys into my life. This was David’s idea, a celebration he said symbolized the purity of a new beginning for our small family.

The scent of blooming white roses from every corner of the garden filled my lungs. Instinctively, my hand stroked the large bump of my belly, feeling a subtle movement from within that never failed to make my heart flutter.

"Be patient, my love... soon you’ll meet both your parents. We love you so much," I whispered softly, barely audible amidst the clinking of crystal glasses and the polite laughter of high-society guests.

In front of me, two meter-high cake towers stood grandly under a silk canopy that fluttered gently in the breeze. One was pale pink with sugar pearl decorations, and the other a sky blue with shimmering satin ribbon details. David deliberately didn't want to know the baby's gender until the day of delivery. He said he wanted every second of this anticipation to feel like opening the most precious birthday gift of his life.

"Hey, most beautiful pregnant woman in the world... daydreaming again?"

A pair of strong arms suddenly wrapped gently around my waist. The masculine, familiar scent of sandalwood perfume immediately flooded my senses, providing an unparalleled sense of security. I closed my eyes for a moment, leaning my head against David’s broad shoulder.

"I was just thinking about how lucky I am, Dave," I replied, turning around in his arms.

David looked down at me with a gaze so sincere. He tucked a stray hair behind my ear with such careful movements, as if I were the rarest, most fragile porcelain he’d ever owned.

"I’m the lucky one, Sam. Having you and our little champ is the greatest achievement of my life. My position, the money, the company... it’s all trash compared to your smile this afternoon."

I let out a small laugh, playfully pinching his nose. "You’re such a flirt, Mr. CEO."

"I’m serious," he whispered, then kissed my forehead for a long time—a kiss that felt warm and full of promise. "I have to go greet Mr. Harrison by the bar for a moment. Do you want me to get you something? Your favorite orange mocktail?"

"Sure, Dave. I’ll wait by the cake table."

I watched his back as he walked away. The white linen shirt he wore contrasted sharply with his sun-kissed skin. He was everything to me—the man who built a world so beautiful for me to live in. I truly felt my life was complete. There wasn't a single room for doubt. Even the loneliness I used to feel when missing my parents—who had left me since I was a child out of their own selfishness—was gone since David arrived.

---

However, that tranquility was disturbed when the crowd near the rose gate suddenly became rowdy. Hurried footsteps broke the harmony of the classical music echoing from the garden corner. A woman stepped in, parting the crowd with a boldness that seemed out of place.

She wasn't wearing white. The woman wore a flame-red silk dress, as if bringing an omen that clashed with the current warmth.

She quickened her pace, half-running. And as she drew closer, my heart stopped for a beat. That face... a face I hadn't seen for two years since she cut all contact and disappeared in London.

"Erica?" My breath hitched in my throat.

My half-sister. The child born from my mother's past affair, the figure I had tried to embrace all this time even though she always harbored a hidden look of envy. She approached me with a pale face and eyes that looked swollen, as if she had just walked through hell to get here.

"Sam... you look so happy," Erica's voice trembled, sounding like harsh metal scraping against my ears.

"Erica! You’re back? Why didn't you tell me?" I stepped forward, wanting to hug her, wanting to ask why she had disappeared all this time. "Look at you, you’re just in time! We’re celebrating—"

"Stop, Sam. Don't pretend you don't know," Erica took a step back, brushing away the hand I reached out to touch her with. Her breath was heavy, and her eyes began to well up with painful-looking tears.

I frowned, my smile slowly fading. "What do you mean? What’s wrong? You look like a mess."

Erica let out a hollow laugh, a dry sound that made the hair on my neck stand up. "A mess? Yes, I am a mess. I’m a mess because I’m carrying a burden that should be borne by your 'perfect' husband!"

Several guests around us stopped chatting due to the piercing tone of Erica's voice. A haunting silence began to creep in, replacing the laughter that had filled the air.

David, who had been at the bar, was now standing frozen behind me. I could feel his presence, but I could also feel the tension radiating from his body.

"Erica, watch your words. This is our baby’s celebration," I warned, trying to hold onto the remnants of happiness that were beginning to crack.

"Your baby? What about my baby, Sam?" Erica screamed, her voice echoing across our backyard. She reached into her handbag roughly, pulled out a tattered brown envelope, and threw its contents onto the table.

Photographs scattered among the pink and blue cakes.

I looked down. My world felt as if it collapsed in a single second. In one of the photos, David was sound asleep without clothes in a London hotel room I knew very well. Beside him, Erica smiled at the camera with bare shoulders covered by a blanket. There were other photos of them kissing on an apartment balcony.

Then, a laboratory paper lay right on top. Positive. Pregnancy.

"Four weeks in London, Sam," Erica's voice turned into a sharp whisper that seeped into my brain like poison. "He met me every night. He said he was stressed because your pregnancy made you boring. He said he needed an escape, and I... I was stupid enough to believe he would leave you for me."

I couldn't breathe. My lungs felt like they were on fire. I turned toward David, hoping he would laugh and say this was all a sick joke.

But David was silent. He stood there with two glasses of mocktails in his hands. The glasses fell, shattering into pieces on the green grass—just like my heart shattered into pieces at that very moment.

"Sam... listen to me. I... I wasn't conscious that night. Erica trapped me," David's voice was hoarse, filled with a panic I had never heard before.

"Not conscious?" I laughed, the sound of my laughter strange to my own ears. "Every night for four weeks, and you’re telling me you weren't conscious, David?"

"Erica, I don't know what your goal is, but you know what happened between us! I never touched you!" David pointed at Erica with fury.

David tried to reach for my shoulder, but I immediately stepped back, away from him as if he were a disgusting carcass.

I looked around. The invited guests were now staring at me with the kind of pity I hated most. These beautiful cakes, this white dress, David's sweet promises—they all turned into a pile of rotting trash under the Beverly Hills sun.

"Erica," I called out emotionlessly. "You want him? You want a man who doesn't even have the courage to admit his own actions?"

Erica was stunned, her tears continuing to flow. "I just want him to take responsibility for this child, Sam."

I took off the diamond watch David had given me this morning and threw it at the two of them. It landed right next to the photos of their betrayal.

"Take it. Take this man, take his wealth, take all the lies he calls love," I said in a cold, rigid voice.

"Samantha! You can't do this! You’re carrying my child!" David snapped, trying to use his authority as a husband to hold me back.

I stopped, looking him straight in the eyes that were now filled with fear. "Your child? No, David. From this second on, this child has no father. This baby is mine alone. Go ahead, leave with what you’ve chosen, David."

---

I turned and walked toward the house. Every step felt heavy, as if I were dragging thousands of tons, but I didn't stop. I ignored David's shouts calling my name repeatedly.

I didn't know what I was feeling now; even my tears wouldn't come out. This betrayal was too painful. My focus was now on the pile of clothes I was quickly stuffing into a suitcase.

“Samantha!”

David’s shout echoed, making me immediately close the suitcase and step out of the room. He blocked my way with eyes full of anxiety.

“I’m begging you, don't go. Why do you believe Erica? You know your half-sister is—”

A slap cut David's sentence short. I couldn't stand to be in front of him for too long, especially as Erica approached again.

“I’m sorry, Sam, I just wanted to be honest about what happened,” Erica said softly.

I gave no response other than to leave immediately.

“Fuck! Samantha! Please don't go, I can explain everything that happened!”

David ran closer, but before he arrived, I turned and shouted loudly.

“Stop right there or you will see my body broken, because I will throw myself down these stairs!”

David flinched; he then sank to his knees, clasping his hands together.

“I beg you, whatever happened with Erica, all of it... I can explain, Sam... I love you,” David pleaded.

“I don't care, David. We’re finished. Don't bother me again,” I said.

I clenched my hand around the suitcase handle and stepped into the elevator.

I exited through the side door, avoiding being seen by the guests who were surely busy gossiping about this humiliating event. A taxi was already waiting at the back gate. The driver looked at me with confusion, seeing my expensive dress now stained with sweat and dust.

"To the airport, please," I said flatly.

As the taxi sped away from the grand mansion in Beverly Hills, I saw my reflection in the window. The Samantha who was full of love and smiles had died in that garden. All that remained was a woman with one life goal: to raise her baby without ever letting her past touch them again.

I turned off my phone, pulled out the SIM card, and threw it onto the street.

Goodbye, David.