Chapter 7

Stella Vance POV

I was pregnant.

Clutching the thin strip of paper, I hid in the bathroom stall, my body trembling.

This child was an accident.

It happened on a night when Julian came home drunk, pinning me to the sofa like a wild animal, taking me by force.

I should have hated this child.

But as my hand rested on my flat stomach, a surge of maternal instinct filled me.

This was my only blood relative left in the world, other than my dying father.

Maybe... this could be a turning point?

I thought naively.

Julian hated me, but this was his child.

Surely, he wouldn't destroy his own flesh and blood. If he knew, would he show mercy? Would he let my father and me go?

Clinging to this tiny hope, I tucked the test result into my pocket and walked toward Julian's study.

The door was slightly ajar.

As I raised my hand to knock, the voices from inside froze me in my tracks.

"Julian, the doctor said it's hard for me to get pregnant."

It was Eva, her voice dripping with tears. "If we don't have a child, your family will never let me marry you."

"Don't cry. He said it's hard, not impossible," Julian replied, his voice filled with a tenderness I hadn't heard in years.

"But... what if Stella gets pregnant?" Eva whispered, her voice laced with jealousy. "She lives with you, after all..."

Silence stretched in the study.

Those few seconds felt like a lifetime of torture.

Then, Julian's cold, lifeless voice pierced through the door, stabbing my heart.

"She doesn't deserve to."

With those words, he signed my death warrant.

"She's just a tool to keep her dying father in check, a toy for my revenge," Julian said flatly. "Even if she does get pregnant, I will never acknowledge it. The heir of the Thorne family will only come from you, Eva. A sinner's bloodline like hers would only produce a mistake."

Outside the door, I slapped a hand over my mouth to choke back a scream.

The test paper in my pocket felt like a branding iron, burning my skin.

A mistake.

To Julian, I was not just an enemy, but a piece of trash.

He had left absolutely no room for mercy.

And I had actually dreamed of using this child to awaken his conscience.

How pathetic of me.

I don't even remember how I walked back to my room.

Like a marionette with its strings cut, I sat on the cold floor from daybreak until night fell.

No tears came.

My heart had died.

When your last shred of hope is crushed, you can't even cry.

I slowly pulled out the test paper, tore it into tiny pieces, and threw it into the trash can.

Staring at the white scraps, my eyes went hollow and empty. But there was no hesitation left in me.

I would never tell Julian about this child.

I would never let this baby enter a world of hatred, only to be called a "mistake" by its own father.

I would take this secret and escape this hell.

Or take it with me to the grave.