Chapter 6

Anya's POV

My mother—Seraphina Sterling.

That name would forever be the deepest wound in my heart.

Two years ago, she passed away from a sudden heart attack on my birthday.

Since then, I'd never celebrated my birthday again.

Tomorrow would be the anniversary of her death.

I drove to the cemetery on the city outskirts, dark clouds seeming to swallow the entire sky.

The wind lashed against the car windows, and my hands clenched the steering wheel.

I hadn't expected to see Julian at the cemetery entrance.

He stood there, holding a bouquet of white lilies, his posture straight, his expression solemn.

When he saw me, he froze for a moment, then walked over.

"I figured you'd be here today," he said in a low voice.

I ignored him, just brushing past him.

I didn't want any interaction with him, not even a polite greeting.

He followed me, his voice cautious: "Anya, I was drunk that night. Don't take what I said to heart."

I stopped, turning to face him.

"Julian, you don't need to explain. I heard everything clearly, and I've thought everything through. Thank you—for making me completely give up."

His face instantly paled, his lips trembled slightly, but no words came out.

I turned and walked to my mother's grave.

The lilies in my hand felt damp. I gently placed them before the tombstone, then took out a handkerchief and carefully wiped dust from the photo.

In the picture, she was still gentle, with a pure and kind smile.

"Mom, I'm here to see you," I whispered in my heart.

"I'm going to A-City now, so I might not be able to visit you often in the future. But don't worry, I'll take care of myself and start anew… living the life you hoped for me."

The wind whispered through the cemetery trees.

I didn't know if it was my imagination, but in that moment, it felt as if my mother was smiling at me.

Julian stood behind me, not too far, not too close. I could feel his gaze on me.

That gaze suffocated me.

After the memorial, we walked back in silence.

A muffled thunder rumbled in the distance. What began as a fine drizzle suddenly intensified, pouring down.

Just then, his phone rang out jarringly.

I didn't need to look to know who it was.

He answered the call, his expression changing drastically.

"What did you say? She fell down the stairs?!"

"Which hospital? I'm coming right away!"

He slammed on the brakes, the car skidding to a halt by the roadside.

Rain lashed against the windshield, like a fractured curtain.

He turned to me, his eyes anxious, "Anya, something happened to Willow. I have to go immediately. You—"

"Let me out here," I calmly interrupted him.

He froze for a moment. "But it's pouring outside…"

"It's fine." I had already unbuckled my seatbelt, my voice calm, almost flat.

"She needs you more."

He looked at me, seeming to hesitate, but that hesitation vanished in an instant.

He nodded. "Then you'll take a cab home. Be careful."

He said that, then started the car.

I watched the car speed into the pouring rain, its headlights slowly swallowed by the darkness.

I suddenly laughed.

This is what it felt like for my heart to die.

Not crying, not pain, but complete numbness.

I opened my umbrella and turned to walk towards the roadside.

In that very instant, an out-of-control truck careened around the corner, blinding headlights engulfing me.

I had no time to react—

"Bang!"

A violent impact, my body thrown into the air, then slammed heavily onto the ground.

Excruciating pain exploded from my bones, and my world instantly dissolved into darkness.

…

When I opened my eyes again, the pungent smell of antiseptic almost made me gag.

It was that familiar hospital again.

I tried to move, but a tearing pain erupted in my abdomen, making me curl up.

The doctor pushed the door open, his face grim.

"Ms. Sterling, you had a massive hemorrhage when you were brought in, and your condition was extremely critical."

He paused. "We found that you… were two months pregnant."

I froze.

Pregnant?

My mind went blank with a buzzing sound.

Pregnant? With Julian's child?

The doctor continued, and then came the words that felt like a knife:

"But due to severe blood loss, the baby couldn't be saved. We urgently needed to give you a blood transfusion, but the hospital's entire stock of Rh-negative blood had just been diverted."

I looked up, my throat so dry I couldn't speak.

"Who?"

The doctor sighed, his expression complicated: "It was Mr. Thorne. He called, saying Ms. Hayes urgently needed blood, and told us to send all the stock to her room. We contacted him, saying your condition was more critical, but he refused, then turned off his phone."

I stared blankly at the ceiling, a chill spreading through my chest.

He diverted my blood to save Willow.

He killed our baby with his own hands.

I lay on the hospital bed and suddenly laughed.

Laughed until tears streamed down my face.

Julian's cruelty, it truly knew no bounds.

I fumbled for the diary under my pillow, my hand trembling so much I could barely hold it.

Turning to the last page, I wrote down, stroke by stroke:

[Entry 99:]

[He killed our child.]

I put down the pen and closed the notebook.

Julian, we're done.