Chapter 3

Seven.

A wave of bitter agony surged through my chest, pressing down on my throat so hard I couldn't speak.

Seeing my silence, Vincent cut in with a venomous tone.

"She probably can't even remember the count herself."

Choking back a sob, I forced my head up and locked eyes with him, my voice raw and cracking.

"What about you, Vincent? Do you even remember how many of your children I carried?"

Vincent froze for a split second, his face instantly souring.

"Hah. You've slept with so many men, I don't even know how many of them were actually mine. You have the nerve to ask me that?"

Sensing the tension, Chloe tugged on Vincent's sleeve, whining cutely for him to go grab her favorite blanket from the bedroom.

The second Vincent stepped into the bedroom, Chloe turned toward me.

Her gaze instantly turned razor-sharp, completely stripped of the sweet, fragile act she had just put on for Vincent.

She leaned in, whispering right against my ear.

"Seven, right?"

She stepped back slightly, narrowing her eyes as her gaze drifted downward until it locked onto my lower abdomen.

"Your first, third, fourth, and sixth babies... I made sure you lost every single one of them on purpose."

"Vincent knew, but he didn't give a damn."

"He doesn't even know the actual number of times you've been pregnant."

"Do you want to bet? Even if you had one in there right now, Vincent wouldn't give a shit if it lived or died."

A blinding rage ripped through my chest, drowning every shred of restraint. My vision blurred red, and my whole body shook with fury.

"You deserve to die!"

I lunged forward, locking both hands around Chloe's throat with every ounce of strength I had left.

Just as my fingers tightened, Vincent stepped out of the bedroom and caught sight of the scene.

He kicked me violently in the abdomen, then rushed past me to check on Chloe.

My body had just gone through a miscarriage; it couldn't take that kind of blunt trauma. The agonizing pain tearing through my stomach felt like it was tearing me apart from the inside.

Warm, sticky blood began gushing out between my legs, and cold sweat instantly soaked through my clothes.

"Chloe! Are you okay?!"

The moment Chloe caught her breath, she threw herself into Vincent's arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

"She didn't mean it, Vince... She just loves you too much... She doesn't want me to have your baby..."

Vincent stroked Chloe's back with a gentle hand while throwing a chilling look at his bodyguards.

"Since she's this jealous and desperate, drag her to the hospital and cut her uterus out."

"The only woman having my children is Chloe."

"Besides, she still has to sleep with clients for me later. This saves me the headache of wondering who knocked her up next!"

The words buzzed faintly through my fading consciousness. Worse than the searing agony in my body, it felt as though my very soul had been torn in half. I could barely draw breath.

As the bodyguards hoisted me up, blood ran freely down my legs, dripping onto the pristine floor.

Looking at the pool of dark red, Vincent showed no remorse—only utter revulsion.

"Where's the maid? Clean this damn mess up right now. Her blood is filthy."

Using the last ounce of my strength, I gripped the bodyguard's sleeve to steady myself, pushing every syllable out through gritted teeth.

"Vincent... have you forgotten... your brother...?"

It was as if I had struck the darkest, rawest nerve buried deep inside him. Vincent's head snapped up, his eyes burning with murderous intent. A suffocating chill filled the room.

"Tell the surgeons not to use any anesthesia. Cut the baby out of her alive to atone for my brother's soul."

I was hauled to the hospital like a piece of cargo. It felt as though every drop of blood in my body had already drained out on the way there.

I lay strapped to the cold operating table, the blinding glare of the surgical lights piercing my eyes.

I didn't have the strength to fight back anymore. Even if I could somehow crawl off that table, the bodyguards standing guard outside the door meant there was nowhere to run.

When the cold antiseptic swabbed across my skin, a suffocating sorrow swallowed me whole. The five years I had spent sacrificing everything for Vincent flashed through my mind like a dying film reel.

The operating room fell dead silent, tears slipping silently down the sides of my face.

The ice-cold scalpel pressed against my lower abdomen. In that moment, I couldn't even summon the voice to beg for help.

I knew I wouldn't make it out of this room alive.

Maybe dying like this was for the best.

Vincent, if there is an afterlife, I will never, ever choose you again.