Chapter 2

Clara's POV

I walked out into the sterile white hospital hallway.

My babies were gone.

Right after that phone call with Arthur, I lost my footing and tumbled down the stairs.

Just like that, our babies slipped away into nothingness.

The doctor delivered the news gently, telling me my body had already been too frail, that the pregnancy had been high-risk from the start.

I didn't shed a single tear.

From the day I took that test, I had treated this pregnancy as the final thread holding him and me together.

I had thought about who the babies would look like. I had wondered if the day he held them in his arms, he might finally look at me and say he was sorry.

Standing amid shattered porcelain all night until sunrise, I had already known he didn't love me anymore.

Now, my babies were gone too.

I couldn't even shed a tear.

At the far end of the hallway was the waiting area.

Through the glass panel of the door, I saw Julian kneeling on the floor, patiently stacking building blocks with that little boy.

Serena sat beside them, peeling an orange and feeding it to him piece by piece.

The boy took a bite, then cheerfully shoved the other half straight into Serena's mouth with a bright, ringing laugh.

I stood by the doorway for a long time.

He would gladly drop to his knees on a cold floor to play with another woman’s child, while our babies—the ones I had just lost—remained completely unknown to him.

Two strangers sitting nearby whispered under their breath.

"Look at that family. They look so happy."

"I know. The dad is so handsome, the mom is gorgeous, and the kid is adorable."

Noticing me standing there by myself, a woman asked kindly, "Where’s your family? Are you here all alone?"

"I don't have a family," I said quietly.

The woman blinked, surprised. She took one look at my pale, hollow face and didn't ask another question.

Saying those words out loud actually settled the storm inside me.

My family was right there on the other side of that door, holding up toy blocks for someone else.

Back at the Sterling estate, I cleared out everything he had ever bought me over the years. I packed it all into a single moving box and shoved it into the corner.

The last thing left was our framed photograph.

He had taken me on a trip to the coast to take that picture. I was laughing into the ocean breeze, and his arms were wrapped tightly around me from behind.

When that picture was taken, I truly believed we would grow old together.

I took the frame off the wall and smashed it against the hardwood floor. Glass shattered in every direction. I dropped down on my knees, using my fingernails to scratch at his face, scraping over and over until his features were completely ruined.

The door pushed open. Julian walked in, followed by Serena and the boy.

"They're moving into the main house from now on," he said flatly. "Clear a bedroom for them."

My response came instantly: "Okay."

He paused, caught off guard by how readily I agreed.

"You don't have to move out," he added, his tone softening just a fraction. "The main house is big enough. They'll take the east wing. You stay on the west side."

"No need," I said, putting down the ruined frame. "Any room works for me."

In the past, I would spend days debating with him over every piece of decor.

Now, I didn't care which room I slept in, because I knew I wouldn't be staying much longer anyway.

The boy peeked timidly from behind Julian’s legs, offering me a small wooden carving.

"F-For you."

I reached out to take it.

The second my fingers brushed the wood, a sharp splinter hidden inside the joint sliced through my flesh. Blood welled up and dripped from my hand.

The boy burst into dramatic tears with a loud wail.

Serena lunged forward, gathering him protectively in her arms, her voice dripping with blame: "Why can't you be more careful? You terrified him!"

Julian stepped up immediately, shielding both of them behind his back, and shoved me back with his hand.

Unprepared, I stumbled, and my lower back slammed hard against the heavy doorframe. Dark spots danced across my vision.

"You can't even take something gently from a child?" he hissed through clenched teeth. "He was trying to be sweet, and this is how you react?"

"There's a splinter inside it," I whispered, holding my bruised back.

"You really don't stop lying, do you?" He let out a mocking sneer. "It’s a smooth wooden toy. How could there possibly be a splinter?"

I opened my hand to show him, using my other hand to pry the carving slightly apart so the sharp jagged edge inside was clearly visible.

"Can't you even take one close look?" I held the bloody hand closer to him. "Right here, in the groove."

He shielded the boy and stepped back half a pace. "Go wrap your hand up. Stop scaring the boy with your blood."

"Julian," I looked up into his eyes. "I didn't hurt him."

"Enough," he snapped, cutting me off cold. "Don't bring this drama up in front of the kid."

My bloody hand was right there in front of his face, yet he didn't even flick his eyes toward it.

I had just gone through an operation he knew nothing about. My hand was gushing blood, and he couldn't care less.

In this household, I wasn't even considered credible evidence.

I turned around and walked upstairs without looking back.

Behind me, Serena's sweet voice coaxed the child, followed by Julian's deep, gentle replies.

Back in my room, I shut the door and sank onto the edge of the mattress.

The cut wasn't long, but it went deep enough that pale edges of flesh poked through.

I didn't bother getting a first-aid kit. I just rested my hand against my knee, watching crimson drops fall one by one onto the floorboards.

Downstairs, Serena laughed, and the boy giggled along with her. Their sounds drifted easily up the staircase.

Moments later, Julian's chuckle joined in.

Listening to the three of them laughing together, I counted the days in my head: how many days until the divorce was finalized, how many more days I had to survive under this roof.

I clenched my bloody hand into a fist, then let it go.