Chapter 4

Miranda blinked, taken aback by my calm. For a moment, she seemed almost disappointed — like she’d come prepared for a fight and I’d robbed her of the satisfaction.

“Well,” she said finally, smoothing her pearls. “I’m glad you understand. The Jenkins family needs an heir. Thank God Eden’s so loyal. Otherwise, I’d never have a grandchild this soon.”

She patted Clarissa’s stomach fondly, her face glowing with joy.

Loyal.

The word made something in me twist and burn.

If Cameron could see from his grave what “loyal” meant to his brother — getting his widow pregnant — I imagined he’d claw his way out of the coffin just to strangle them both.

Clarissa lowered her gaze, pretending to be fragile.

“Lucia,” she whispered timidly, “are you still angry at me? I just wanted a child of my own… being alone is so frightening.”

Her voice trembled, and then — as if on cue — she began to cry, soft, pitiful sobs that filled the dining room like background music.

Miranda immediately passed her a tissue, glaring at me as though I’d kicked a puppy.

“Lucia,” she said coldly, “a woman who convinces her husband to be child-free and hides her infertility has no right to complain. Clarissa’s baby carries the Jenkins bloodline. That child must be born.”

I stared at them, letting their cruelty wash over me like cold rain.

Then I smiled faintly. “Fine. I’ll step aside. Once the baby’s born, he can proudly call Clarissa ‘Mommy’ and Eden ‘Daddy.’ You won’t have to worry about me getting in the way of their happy little family.”

The words landed like glass shattering on marble.

Miranda’s mouth twitched. Clarissa’s eyes went wide.

And then — with a theatrical gasp — Clarissa dropped to her knees.

She clutched my pant leg, tears streaming down her face.

“Lucia, please! I know you’re angry, but the baby is innocent! You can’t make us kill him!”

The room fell silent.

I blinked, stunned. For a moment, I wasn’t even sure I’d heard her right.

Was she serious?

Or just that good of an actress?

I bent down slightly, frowning, ready to pull her up.

But before I could touch her, a roar split the air.

“Stop it!”

Eden’s voice.

He had just walked in — and the sight before him was perfectly staged: Clarissa kneeling, crying, clutching me as if in terror. Her words — “You can’t make us kill the baby!” — still hung in the air like poison.

His face twisted with fury.

And before I could react, he lunged forward — and kicked me.

The pain exploded in my abdomen. I fell hard, my back hitting the floor, the world spinning into static.

A cold wave surged through me — the same cold I’d felt on that hospital bed, only this time sharper, deeper, more final. My body trembled. My vision blurred. The edges of the room dissolved into darkness.

Somewhere above me, Eden’s voice thundered, full of righteous rage.

“Lucia! You vile woman! You couldn’t stand to see Clarissa happy, could you? You failed at the hospital, so now you try to hurt her here? You poisonous snake!”

I forced myself upright, my fingers trembling. The taste of blood filled my mouth, but my mind was crystal clear.

From my bag, I pulled out the divorce papers and flung them straight at his chest.

“Eden,” I said, my voice steady, calm, even gentle — the calm of someone who had finally stopped caring.

“Let’s get divorced.”

He froze, disbelief written across his face.

I stood, swaying on my feet, and turned toward the door. Each step felt heavier, slower.

Then the darkness caught me.

Gasps echoed around the room.

“Oh my God—she’s bleeding!”

“Lucia! There’s so much blood!”

“Call an ambulance!”