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Even after I got out of the operation room, it seemed that Shawn didn't care that we had just lost our seven-month-old unborn child.

Even though this hospital belonged to his company, Dawson Group, he purposefully set me up at a simple hospital bed in the corner of the stairwell.

Coldness was all I could feel as I laid there, and even my son, who was keeping me company, couldn't help but shiver.

Even then, he didn't care about himself. Instead, he gripped my hand tightly and breathed warm air onto it with his little mouth. "I'll make you warm, Mommy!"

I forced a weak smile, trying to trick him. "Mommy's not cold, Aster."

When I saw his hands swollen red and blue from the cold, I couldn't help my tears.

Just a few steps of the staircase away, Jasmine was staying in a luxurious ward. She had doctors on command to check on her 24/7 as well as a bunch of bodyguards and maids at the beck and call, all at the behest of Shawn.

Aster clenched his teeth, and seemed to come to a conclusion. "Mommy, let me go ask Jasmine for help! If she asks Daddy to save you, he'll come!"

I looked at my son's gaze, as clear as a spring of water, and I couldn't help feeling heartbroken.

He was a good boy, but he was only six years old. He wouldn't comprehend that Jasmine was the one who had pushed me down the stairs and fell down by my side to incriminate me.

That woman wanted nothing but for me to die early.

Suddenly, a warm stream of blood flowed out under my body.

My son screamed. "There's so much blood! Mommy, there's so much blood!"

Before I could say anything, he started making a mad dash up the stairs. I knew that he was trying to go find Jasmine, and I was so anxious that I felt a pang in my heart.

I wanted to crawl up, to stop him, to do anything, but I just couldn't muster up even the slightest bit of strength.

After several days of being left in this weakened state, I couldn't hold on any longer, my life slipping away from my body.

Miraculously, my soul managed to leave my body, and I quickly drifted after my son.

He'd just managed to get to the entrance of Jasmine's ward, but before he could knock on the door, the bodyguard there kicked him.

"Mr. Dawson ordered us not to let you bother Miss Stark!"

My son hit the ground with a loud thump, but he was in too much of a hurry to even try climbing back up. Using his limbs, he crawled over to the door and hit it with his clenched fists as hard as he could.

"Ms. Stark! Ms. Stark! Mommy's bleeding so much! Please, tell the doctors to save her!"

To keep me company, my son had suffered hunger and cold these past few days.

My poor son, who'd been living in luxury his entire life.

After everything, his hands were already swollen beyond recognition.

Now, as he pounded on the door, his skin split open, smearing fresh blood on the wood.

I cried out, begging him not to do this. He shouldn't beg that witch for me!

I was already dead…

Unfortunately, souls couldn't speak.

Suddenly, the door of the ward opened. Jasmine was sitting there, elegantly sipping on a bowl of nourishing soup.

"Let him in."

Like a cub being caught by the scruff, the bodyguard outside dragged him into the room by the collar of his shirt, before throwing him on the ground in front of Jasmine.

Jasmine carefully examined her newly manicured nails. "You want me to save your mother, boy?"

Seeing him nod vigorously, she smirked.

"Kneel down in front of me and beg for forgiveness on her behalf, and I'll call the doctors."