Chapter 4

Fredrick wasn't the least bit surprised. He didn't even bother to look at her again. Instead, he simply gestured to the agent. "Go ahead and take the photos."

The young agent looked as though she'd just been granted a pardon. With her head down and camera in hand, she hurried into the bedroom, snapped a few photos of the key areas, and fled the suffocating apartment as if her life depended on it.

"Mr. Tatham, I'll find a buyer as soon as possible," she called from the doorway before racing down the stairs.

Fredrick was about to leave as well when Roxanne caught up to him, with Jaxon close behind her, and grabbed his wrist. "Freddy, it's already past noon. Since we're all here anyway, why don't we have lunch together? Just the three of us."

The corners of Fredrick's mouth twitched. He almost laughed aloud. 'You want your own husband to sit down and share a meal with your lover? Roxanne, you really know how to humiliate a man.'

He was about to refuse, his voice already cold, when a sudden crash rang out overhead.

A second-floor window, weakened by years of neglect, shattered without warning. Jagged shards of glass rained down on him and Jaxon.

In that split second, Roxanne lunged toward Jaxon. She wrapped her arms around him, pulled him tightly against her chest, and turned her back to shield him from the falling glass.

Fredrick stood alone where she'd released him. He barely had time to raise his arms to protect his head and face before the glass struck.

Agony ripped through him as sharp fragments sliced through his sleeves and dug deep into his flesh. Pain erupted across his shoulder, arm, and back all at once. Warm blood gushed from his wounds and soaked through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Before he lost consciousness, the last thing he saw was Roxanne frantically examining Jaxon for injuries.

"Jax! Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere?" her voice was tinged with a panic she'd never once shown for him.

She didn't spare a single glance for her husband, who stood behind her, covered in blood.

Fredrick slumped against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. The pain was unbearable. Yet he could no longer tell which hurt more: the deep, bloody wounds across his body or the hollow ache in his heart, a wound that had never truly healed.

Then darkness swallowed him completely.

…

Fredrick had no idea how much time had passed before a faint awareness returned. He could feel himself jostle with each hurried movement.

He realized someone was rushing him through the hospital. The urgent voices of doctors and nurses reached him through the haze.

"Multiple glass lacerations and significant blood loss. He needs immediate surgery."

"Get the blood bags ready. Notify the operating room."

Just as the medical staff wheeled him toward the operating room, hurried footsteps approached.

It was Roxanne.

Gauze still covered her temple, and her face was tight with barely concealed panic. She stepped directly in front of the gurney. "Wait."

She turned to the nurse, her tone firm and commanding. "Jax is hurt. He has a clotting disorder, and the bleeding won't stop. Fredrick has the same blood type as him. Delay his surgery and draw some blood for Jax first."

The nurse froze. She glanced at Fredrick, who lay on the gurney, barely conscious.

"We can't do that, Ms. Duranov," she said hesitantly. "Your husband has already lost a dangerous amount of blood. If we take any more, he could die."

"Just take a little. It won't kill him." Roxanne's voice hardened, her eyes bloodshot. "I'm his wife. I have the authority to make this decision. Draw his blood. Now."

"But—"

"No buts!" Roxanne snapped, her voice trembling with fury.

Her sheer intensity made the nurse flinch.

"Don't forget whose name is on this hospital. If anything happens to Jax, every single one of you can pack your things and leave. And this hospital won't be in business much longer either!" she threatened.

The nurse shrank beneath her furious glare. She exchanged uneasy looks with the other medical staff, who appeared equally reluctant to comply.

But faced with Roxanne's threats, she eventually gave in, despite her obvious distress. "I'll... prepare the blood draw."

A cold needle pierced Fredrick's pale arm, where his veins were barely visible beneath his skin. Bright red blood slowly flowed through the tubing and into the collection bag.

He could almost feel his remaining strength leave him with every drop, as though the blood they took was carrying away what little life he had left.

Through the fog of his fading consciousness, an old memory surfaced.

Years ago, he'd been involved in a serious car accident. His life had hung by a thread, and the hospital's blood supply had been dangerously low.

Back then, Roxanne had been nearly frantic with desperation.

She'd disregarded the fact that their blood types were incompatible and seized the doctor by the collar, her eyes blazing. "Take mine! I'm his wife! Take as much as you need! You have to save him! He can't die!"

She'd remained outside the operating room, praying desperately. She'd even got down on her knees to pray to gods she didn't believe in, until her knees bled, too distraught to notice the pain.

When he'd finally pulled through, she'd clung to him and sobbed like a child who had lost everything and miraculously gotten it all back.

"Freddy, you scared me to death," she'd cried, her voice breaking. "I can't lose you. I can't!"

But now? For the sake of another man, she hadn't hesitated for a second to sacrifice him, even if it meant putting his life at risk.

'Roxanne, when did you stop loving me?'

…

When Fredrick regained consciousness, he found himself in a hospital bed. He struggled to open his eyes and noticed a nurse nearby, who was busy updating his medical records.

When she saw that he was awake, she sighed with relief. Yet there was something else in her eyes, a mixture of pity and reluctance.

"Mr. Tatham, thank goodness you're awake. You've just come out of surgery, so you need plenty of rest." She hesitated before continuing, "And... your sperm duct was removed during the operation. Please make sure you rest and take your medication as prescribed."

'My sperm duct? Removed?'

Fredrick stared at her in disbelief, unable to process what he'd just heard. "What... What did you say?"

The nurse averted her gaze. When she repeated herself, her words struck him like a thunderbolt, piercing through the numbness that had settled over his heart.

"Your sperm duct was removed. Ms. Duranov personally authorized the procedure. From now on... you won't be able to have children," she said timidly.