Chapter 4

I turned and walked out toward the open-air balcony, the night breeze cutting through my skin.

I lost track of how long I stood there, waiting until the raging ache in my chest went completely numb.

When I finally walked back, I bumped into Vivienne near the corner, freshly touched up.

"Mrs. Miller," she cooed, fingering the sapphire pendant with a sly smile. "What a coincidence."

"This necklace... seemed like something you really wanted, didn't it?" She stepped closer, her grin dripping with malice. "Too bad Ethan said... you're not worthy of it."

"Take it off," my voice shook violently.

She laughed, as if hearing the funniest joke in the world. "Why should I? Ethan gave this to me as a token of his love."

"That belongs to my mother."

Every word felt like it was being dragged through crushed glass.

"So what?" Her red lips curved into a venomous smile. "Your daughter was unlucky and died. This little trinket from your dead mother only has value now that it's around my neck."

She took half a step forward, dropping her voice to a harsh, private hiss that pierced straight into my ears: "Lemon, you couldn't keep your daughter alive, you couldn't hold onto your man, and you couldn't even protect a piece of your mother's junk."

"From start to finish, you're just a loser who loses everything."

The grief and sheer rage snapped the last tether of my sanity, sending every drop of blood straight to my head.

Right then, Ethan's hurried footsteps echoed from the end of the hall.

The venom on Vivienne's face vanished instantly, replaced by sheer panic and fragile vulnerability.

With a sharp gasp, she stumbled backward and slammed hard against the marble floor.

"Vivi!"

Ethan rushed forward, the raw panic and distress in his voice practically spilling over.

Without even glancing in my direction, he shoved me violently aside. "What the hell are you doing?!"

Caught completely off guard, I stumbled backward, my head slamming into a stone pillar. A burst of white light exploded behind my eyes.

He dropped to his knees, gently helping her up. "Where are you hurt? Does it hurt bad?"

Vivienne nestled into his chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Ethan, my ankle... I don't know why she shoved me like that..."

Only then did Ethan look up at me.

The moment he saw the trickle of blood running down my temple, his pupils constricted violently. "Lemon, you..."

Before he could finish, several photographers came bursting around the corner with cameras raised.

"Mr. Miller, what happened here?!"

"Mrs. Miller, did you attack Miss Vance out of jealousy?!"

Vivienne cowered deeper into Ethan's arms, sobbing harder. "Don't blame Lemon... it's my fault. I shouldn't have worn this necklace..."

Ethan wrapped an arm tightly around her, glaring at me.

His gaze flickered with anger and hesitation.

Before finally hardening into absolute, icy cruelty.

"Lemon," he said, each word ruthlessly slicing away the very last shred of hope in my heart, "apologize to Vivienne."

I stared at the man I had loved for seven whole years.

And suddenly, a laugh broke from my throat.

"Ethan," I whispered, keeping my voice low so only the two of us could hear, "on your birthday... were you really in a meeting?"

His face went stark white in an instant.

"The bone marrow match... was it really intercepted by someone else?" I locked eyes with him. "Or did you hand it over to her with your own two hands?"

"Lemon!" He snapped, his voice spiking as if I had stomped on an open nerve. "It's just a necklace! Haven't you caused enough of a scene?!"

More reporters swarmed in, microphones and lenses practically shoved into my face.

"Mrs. Miller, please give us a statement!"

"Have you harbored hostility toward Miss Vance for a long time?"

Shouts, shoves, and shutter clicks dissolved into a dizzying roar.

Trapped in the center of the crowd, I was like a battered boat on the verge of capsizing.

In the chaos, someone shoved me hard from behind.

I fell forward, my lower abdomen slamming violently against the sharp edge of a display pedestal.

A wave of warm liquid rushed down the inside of my thighs. The light before my eyes warped, fading fast.

Before the darkness swallowed me whole, the last thing I saw...

Was Ethan's face, twisted in sheer panic and shock.

...

When I woke up, the sharp scent of antiseptic burned my nose.

The doctor stood beside the bed, his expression filled with sympathy. "Ma'am, you've had a miscarriage. You were eight weeks along. There was already a heartbeat."

I rested a trembling hand over my flat stomach. There had been a tiny life growing inside me.

A miracle I had endured bitter medicine, endless injections, and excruciating egg retrievals to finally hold.

Over the past two weeks, I had even started quietly browsing baby clothes online, picturing the exact words I would use to tell him.

Ethan, we're going to be parents.

Now, there was only an eerie, deafening void.

My phone buzzed on the bedside table, a news alert popping up on the screen:

Charity Gala Drama! Miller Group CEO Caught in Passionate Midnight Kiss with Vivienne Vance! Are Wedding Bells Looming?

In the photo, his arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, lost in a deep kiss.

The backdrop was a disheveled hotel bed, the balcony curtains wide open.

The sapphire necklace glittered around her neck, gleaming like a cruel mockery of every ounce of devotion I had ever poured into him.

I slowly sat up, my fingers cold yet remarkably steady.

I opened my email. Sitting in the drafts was an already signed divorce petition.

Attached to it was an airtight paper trail documenting how my daughter's donor match had been diverted all those years ago.

Dates, locations, medical staff names, and Ethan's personal signature.

Recipient: Ethan Miller.

When the airport intercom announced boarding, I took one last look at the city skyline.

My phone buzzed with a final text from Ethan:

Lemon, pick up! We need to talk! I know I messed up!

I stared down at the words.

I remembered years ago, when he forgot our anniversary and I cried, he had panicked and apologized just like this.

Back then, my heart softened immediately, truly believing he cared.

A faint smile touched my lips, and before I knew it, warm tears rolled quietly down my cheeks.

As the final boarding call echoed through the terminal, I powered off the phone, popped out the SIM card, and dropped it into a nearby trash bin.

The flight took off.