One Too Many Red Flags

"Ms. Harris, you're already six months pregnant. The baby is fully formed... Are you sure you want to go through with the abortion? The hospital strongly advises against it." The doctor said hesitatingly. Phoebe Harris instinctively placed a hand over her swollen belly. Six months. The child had grown inside her, from something no bigger than a grain of rice to the size it was now. They say a mother and her child share an unspoken bond, and she could feel it too. If she weren't utterly broken inside, what mother would ever have the heart to give up her baby who was about to enter the world? After a silence that seemed to stretch on forever, Phoebe took a deep breath. Then, with a resolve that left no room for doubt, she said, "I'm sure." Chapter 1 "Ms. Harris, you're already six months pregnant. The baby is fully formed... Are you sure you want to go through with the abortion? The hospital strongly advises against it." The doctor said hesitatingly. Phoebe Harris instinctively placed a hand over her swollen belly. Six months. The child had grown inside her, from something no bigger than a grain of rice to the size it was now. They say a mother and her child share an unspoken bond, and she could feel it too. If she weren't utterly broken inside, what mother would ever have the heart to give up her baby who was about to enter the world? After a silence that seemed to stretch on forever, Phoebe took a deep breath. Then, with a resolve that left no room for doubt, she said, "I'm sure." 'I'm sorry, baby. I can't bring you into this world. I want you to be born into a loving family, not a life filled with endless lies and bitter hatred,' Phoebe thought sadly. When she left the hospital, Phoebe looked up and saw the giant electronic screen on the mall across the road. It was playing the press conference held by the Marshal Group yesterday on a continuous loop. At the press conference, a young reporter had asked Nathan Marshal, "Mr. Marshal, as far as I know, the Marshal Group has always been a giant in the electronics and jewelry industries. Why the sudden shift toward the maternal and infant sector?" On the screen, Nathan wore a custom-tailored suit. He looked distant and elegant. A faint smile curved his lips as he answered slowly, "Because my wife is pregnant. I don't trust what's available on the market." The next moment, Phoebe heard a group of girls nearby erupt into excited squeals. "Oh my God! This is what real love looks like. Nathan is too good to his wife. Other rich husbands buy cars or houses, but he built an entire maternal and infant supply chain just for her." "Exactly! I heard that when Nathan proposed, he promised he'd never change after marriage. Every year on her birthday, he gives her extravagant gifts like crowns and diamond shoes. One year, he even bought an entire island and built a castle on it just for her." Listening to their chatter, Phoebe smiled bitterly. Never change, huh? But Nathan had already changed. Lost in thought, she barely noticed her phone vibrating. When she checked it, a message from an unknown number appeared on the screen. [Heya, pregnant hag, guess where your husband is right now?] Attached was a photo. Phoebe recognized it immediately. It was taken in the underground parking lot of the Marshal Group. She knew it was a trap. But sometimes, even when you know there is a trap ahead, you still walk straight into it. Without hesitation, she drove to the Marshal Group headquarters. In the dimly lit parking lot, Nathan's black Maybach was shaking violently. The people inside clearly had no shame, leaving the window open. A long, pale leg stretched out of the window, wrapped in torn black stockings. A large hand reached out next, gripping the woman's thigh and squeezing it forcefully. Then came the woman's sugary voice. "Ah... Master, be gentle. I can't take it." In the darkness, something bright pierced Phoebe's eyes. It was Nathan's wedding ring. The one she had designed herself, a unique piece in the entire world. Now, that very ring was on the hand gripping Clara Steele's thigh. She knew that hand well. It had once slipped a wedding band onto her finger. It had cooked meals for her and held her through long nights. Every morning, the owner of that hand would bend down and kiss her awake. "Master, you're amazing. I can't take it anymore. Please, have mercy," Clara's honeyed voice cut through her memories. Phoebe touched her face and realized her tears had already fallen. She knew Clara had sent the message and photo. She also knew why. If Phoebe, heavily pregnant, caught them in the act and became too emotional, it could easily end in tragedy for both her and her child. That way, Clara could easily swoop in and take her place. Nice plan, Phoebe thought. But she wasn't going to give Clara the satisfaction. Silent, she returned to her car and dialed Nathan's number. He picked up quickly. His voice was slightly uneven. "Phoebe, I'm in a meeting. I can't talk right now. I'll call you back later..." Before he could finish, Phoebe cut him off coldly. "Be home in ten minutes, or you'll never see me again." Chapter 2 "Phoebe, stop messing around. This meeting is really important," Nathan's voice, unusually flustered, broke through the receiver. "Besides, there's no way I can get home in ten minutes from the office." Phoebe's response was cold and simple. "Your time starts now." Then she hung up. A few minutes later, Clara, half-dressed, was shoved out of the car. Nathan sped off, his Maybach disappearing from the garage in the blink of an eye. That left Clara standing there, humiliated, clutching her belongings against her bare skin. Phoebe adjusted her seat, settling into a more comfortable position, and turned on her headlights. The bright beam fell directly on Clara. The darkness hid many things, but light has a way of exposing what shouldn't be seen. Clara, caught off guard, wrapped her arms tightly around herself. "Who? Who's there?!" Phoebe couldn't be bothered to answer. She simply drove past, her car sweeping smoothly by. Through the open window, Clara caught a glimpse of Phoebe's cold and striking profile. That was the breaking point. She snapped, screaming after her, "Old hag! Do you really think you've won? Keep dreaming! Your husband is already sick of you. He told me more than once that your flabby body disgusts him!" The only response was the dirty trail of exhaust fumes. By the time Phoebe arrived home, Nathan was already in a rage. "What a bunch of useless idiots! You can't even tell me where my wife went. What do I even keep you around for?!" She stepped into the living room without a word. The moment he saw her, the anger drained from his face. In two long strides, he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. His voice trembled slightly. "Phoebe, thank God you're here. I thought you really left me. You scared me half to death." Phoebe tilted her head up, studying his face. Her voice was calm but unreadable. "Are you that afraid I might disappear?" "Of course," he said without hesitation. "Phoebe, you're the most important person in my life. I can't lose you. And now that you're carrying my child, I need you even more." His voice was sincere, his gaze deep and affectionate. If Phoebe hadn't just witnessed what happened in the car, she might have believed him. "Promise me," he whispered, his grip tightening around her hand, his tone raw with desperation. "Never leave me. I can't live without you. If you go, I'll lose my mind." A sharp, aching pain curled through her chest. With tears stinging her eyes, Phoebe thought bitterly, 'Then why cheat on me?' He clung to another woman, yet begged her to stay—how much of what he said was true, and how much was just a lie? Noticing the redness in her eyes, Nathan panicked. "Why are you crying?" His voice softened into a coaxing murmur. "Who upset my Phoebe? Tell me, and I'll make them pay." Phoebe shook her head. "It's nothing. Just pregnancy hormones acting up." But Nathan still wasn't reassured. He insisted on calling the family doctor to check on her. When the doctor arrived, Nathan sat nearby, but his mind was somewhere else. He kept glancing at his phone, and each time he did, the hunger in his eyes grew stronger. It didn't take much for Phoebe to understand—Clara was messaging him. Her own phone buzzed soon after. It was a text from Clara. [Hey fatty, want to bet I can make your husband leave you for me anytime I want?] The message had barely registered when Nathan stood up, voice tight with urgency. "Phoebe, something came up at work. I need to go back." On reflex, Phoebe reached out and caught his hand. "Don't go. My stomach hurts. I'm scared. Can't you stay with me?" A flicker of hesitation crossed his face. His phone buzzed again. Whatever he read there sealed his decision. Gently, he pulled his hand away, smiling as he tried to soothe her. "Dr. Shannon is here. If anything happens, you're in good hands. Besides, I'm not a doctor. I'm not much help. Be good and listen to him. I'll be back soon." Without waiting for her response, he turned and left in a rush. At that moment, something inside Phoebe broke beyond repair. She swallowed the tears burning her throat, picked up her phone, and sent a message to her brother in the military. [Ian, I want to disappear.] Chapter 3 Phoebe couldn't understand it. How had their relationship come to this? From the moment she and Nathan met, fell in love, and eventually married, they had always been the couple everyone envied. When he proposed, holding her hand tightly, he had promised her with such solemn sincerity, "They say men change after marriage, but don't worry, Phoebe. Even after we get married, I won't change. I'll spoil you, indulge you, and make sure you'll always be the princess in our fairy tale." And after they married, he had kept his word. He treated her with the same devotion as when he had first pursued her. Every day, he sent her flowers and often surprised her with thoughtful gifts. Whatever she wanted appeared on her bedside table the next day without her even needing to ask. It was as if he could read her mind. Even her closest friends, the ones who always viewed things with a skeptical eye, praised him, calling him a one-in-a-million husband. But this one-in-a-million husband had still cheated on her. Was it really, as Clara had claimed, because her body had changed after she became pregnant? Had her weight gain and stretch marks made her less desirable? Phoebe lowered her head, gazing at her swollen belly. Faint stretch marks curled across the taut skin. Ugly. They were ugly. Yet before the pregnancy, she had a slender waist and pale, flawless skin, just like Clara. Her stomach had been flat, without the heavy roundness or the unsightly lines marring her body now. How ironic. She had been willing to sacrifice her figure and endure all the discomfort of pregnancy to give Nathan a child, and in return, he betrayed her. "Madam, this is fresh black-bone chicken soup with fish maw. Your mother-in-law said it's good for the baby. Please drink it while it's hot," the housekeeper said, carrying a tray toward her. Alongside the steaming bowl of soup, there was a plate of shelled walnuts and a heaping dish of grapes. Her mother-in-law had heard that eating grapes during pregnancy would give the baby large, beautiful eyes, while walnuts were said to boost brain development. Determined to have a smart and adorable grandchild, she had instructed the housekeeper to ensure Phoebe ate them every day. If she didn't, the phone calls would come immediately. "If you didn't know better, you'd think I was forcing poison down your throat," her mother-in-law had once said, her voice half-joking but sharp beneath the surface. "I'm doing this for my grandson. You're not a young girl anymore, you're a mother-to-be. You can't be selfish. It's not just about your preferences now. You need to think about the baby. I'm doing this for your own good. Don't act like I'm trying to hurt you." Those words echoed relentlessly in Phoebe's mind. Before, no matter how much she disliked the food, she would have forced herself to eat it just to avoid conflict. But now— "Take it away," she said, turning her face to the side. "I'm not hungry." "Even if you're not hungry, you should still eat. Your mother-in-law had this flown in from overseas. It's organic and supposed to be good for the baby," the housekeeper insisted, pushing the tray closer to her. Just then, Phoebe's phone vibrated again. Another message from Clara. She had sent an address, followed by a taunting question. [Hey fatty, dare to come?] Phoebe tightened her grip on the phone. There was nothing holding her in this house anymore. She might as well go and see for herself. She drove in silence, following the address Clara had sent. It led her to an auction house. Frowning, she wondered why Nathan would choose a public place like this to meet his mistress. But before she could think further, she spotted Clara stepping into the front row, arm-in-arm with an elegant woman draped in expensive jewelry. That woman was Bethany Marshal—Phoebe's mother-in-law. Chapter 4 "Clara, if you see something you like, just say the word. I'll buy it for you," Bethany said, holding Clara's hand with a motherly warmth Phoebe had never witnessed before. "Mom, why are you so kind to Clara but always cold and sharp with Phoebe?" Nathan asked with a sigh. "Phoebe is your daughter-in-law, and she's carrying your grandchild. Can't you treat her better?" "Because Clara doesn't stir up trouble and turn you against me like Phoebe does," Bethany snapped, her face darkening. "Mom, I've told you many times, Phoebe never—" Nathan tried to explain, but Bethany had no patience to listen. "Enough, Nathan," she cut him off. "We came here to shop and enjoy ourselves. Can't you stop mentioning Phoebe? It's killing the mood." "Alright, alright. I won't bring her up," Nathan said, raising his hands in mock surrender. With a light smile, he added, "Today, I'm just here to serve Her Majesty and Her Royal Highness. I'll pay, I'll swipe my card, and I won't say another useless word." The phrase "Her Royal Highness" pierced through Phoebe. Once, she believed she was the only princess in Nathan's heart. Even if he had betrayed her now, at least the love he once gave her had felt irreplaceable. But it was never irreplaceable. Anyone could be his princess. She took a deep breath, willing herself not to cry. Without a word, she turned to leave. At that moment, Nathan saw her. "Phoebe? What are you doing here?" His face turned pale, and his eyes darted toward Clara, betraying his discomfort. "When... when did you get here?" Phoebe met his gaze calmly. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? Didn't you say you had urgent work at the office?" "Nathan came to meet a client here. What's the problem?" Bethany interjected, her tone sharp and impatient. "You're pregnant. Stop being so suspicious and focus on taking care of the baby." "Mom, stop blaming Phoebe," Nathan said, trying to soothe her. "If she doesn't feel secure, it's because I haven't done my job as a husband. If I'd given her enough reassurance, she wouldn't need to be suspicious." As he spoke, he gently cradled Phoebe's hand and placed it over his heart. "Phoebe, I really did come here for business. The client is upstairs. If you don't believe me, I'll take you to meet him." His eyes held hers, deep and unwavering. "When we married, I promised to love and cherish you forever. I swore I'd never lie to you, and I meant it. I will never break that promise." Phoebe wondered how he did it—standing there in front of his mother, his wife, and their unborn child, speaking such bold-faced lies without a trace of guilt. Wasn't he afraid of the consequences? "Then who is she?" Phoebe asked, turning her eyes toward Clara. "She's Nathan's cousin," Bethany said smoothly. "Her family moved abroad years ago, so you wouldn't know her." With a sudden smile, she added, "By the way, Nathan, Clara just returned from abroad and doesn't have a place to stay. Why not let her live at your place for a while?" She paused deliberately, then turned to Phoebe with a saccharine smile. "Phoebe, you don't mind, do you?" Chapter 5 "Mom, stop joking around. Phoebe needs to focus on her pregnancy, she doesn't have time to take care of a cousin," Nathan said, noticing the change in Phoebe's expression. He was quick to refuse on her behalf. But the next second, Phoebe smiled. "I don't mind. Let her move in." And just like that, Clara moved in. That evening, the housekeeper came in again with a tray. The same three things as always: soup, walnuts, and grapes. Phoebe had had enough. With a swift motion, she knocked the tray to the floor. "How many times do I have to say it before you understand? I don't want to eat these!" Nathan rushed over, his face tense as he pulled her into his arms. "Phoebe, are you okay? Did the soup burn you?" She shook her head, saying nothing. Seeing that she was unharmed, he exhaled in relief. His gaze turned cold as he glared at the housekeeper. "If she doesn't want to eat it, don't force her! How useless can you be? You can't even take care of a pregnant woman properly!" "Phoebe, are you having trouble with your appetite? Why don't I make you some soup?" Clara sauntered over, her voice sweet and artificial. "Tomato and beef brisket, nourishing and good for the baby." Phoebe didn't bother to glance at her. With her eyes lowered, she said quietly, "I'm tired. I'll go rest. You all go ahead and eat." Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away. She fell into a heavy sleep, but the sharp ring of a phone shattered the silence, dragging her awake. Frowning, she reached for the phone. She was sure she hadn't set an alarm. As confusion set in, a message flashed across the screen. It was from Clara, as sharp and mocking as ever. [Hey, fatty, dare to come to Nathan's study?] Phoebe stared at the message for a long time before finally pushing herself out of bed and heading to the study. The door was slightly ajar. As she approached, the sound of Clara's soft, teasing laughter drifted out. "Master, stop working, pay some attention to me." "Cut it out," Nathan's voice was low and harsh. "This is my home, not somewhere else. What if Phoebe sees us?" "She's already asleep. She won't know," Clara said as she caught his hand, guiding it down her body. "Master, I miss you so much. I can't wait any longer..." His breath grew heavier. With a swift motion, he pushed her onto the desk and reached for her nightgown. But then, he hesitated. "Wait," he said, his tone shifting. "This nightgown... it looks familiar. Isn't this Phoebe's?" Clara smiled seductively, pressing his fingers to her lips. "That's right. It's hers. But she can't fit into it anymore." A low chuckle escaped him as his hand tightened around her slender waist. At that moment, Phoebe remembered. Before her pregnancy, Nathan had always loved her slim figure. Whenever things got heated, his hands would cling to her waist as if he couldn't let go. But now, with her body changed, heavy with their child, he was gripping someone else's waist instead. He said he cared about her. Yet here he was, just as easily, wanting another woman. "Ah... Master, I love you so much. Do you love me?" Clara moaned softly, the words exaggerated and sweet. Through the narrow gap in the door, she must have spotted Phoebe outside. Her arms curled around Nathan's neck as she pushed further. "Do you love me more, or do you love Phoebe more?" "Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to," he said coldly. "Of course, I love Phoebe the most. She's my wife, my one true love." Hearing that, Clara's eyes burned with resentment. She cast a venomous glance toward the door, unwilling to concede defeat. "But tell me this, Master," she whispered. "Do you enjoy doing me more, or Phoebe?" Nathan laughed softly, his movements growing rougher. "Obviously, it's you. A body like yours is made for carnal pleasure." A triumphant smile spread across Clara's face as her voice rose in satisfaction. Meanwhile, outside the door, tears blurred Phoebe's vision. 'Why am I crying?' she wondered bitterly. 'You let Clara move in, didn't you? Wasn't it because you wanted to see whether Nathan still had any feelings left for you? Wasn't it because you wanted to know if he would dare to touch his mistress under your roof? Well, now you have your answer. Congratulations, Phoebe. You finally know the truth.' Chapter 6 Phoebe fell seriously ill. A relentless fever burned through her, and no matter what she ate, it came back up. "A bunch of useless doctors," Nathan snapped. "I paid you all this money, and you can't even bring down a simple fever?" If the butler hadn't been holding him back, he might have struck someone. "Madam is pregnant," the doctor explained, his face tight with helplessness. "Most medications aren't safe, and your parents specifically instructed us to avoid using medicine. Right now, the best approach is through dietary therapy to strengthen her body, but she can't keep anything down." Nathan carried a bowl of porridge to her bedside. He took her hand, his usual coldness replaced by something raw and pleading. "Phoebe, please. For me, for our child, eat something. Just a little, okay?" Phoebe turned her face away without a word. In just a few days, she had become a shadow of herself. Her skin was pale, her cheeks sunken, and her once graceful frame had thinned alarmingly. Only her swollen belly remained—a jarring contrast to the rest of her frail body. "Phoebe, what's wrong?" Nathan's voice trembled as his eyes reddened. "What happened? Can you tell me?" She wanted to know, too. What had gone so wrong? How had their perfect, happy marriage turned into this? Why had the man who once loved her so deeply become a liar the moment she got pregnant? Who could give her an answer? "Phoebe, I'm begging you," he said, his composure cracking as he pulled her into his arms. "If you'll just eat, I'll do anything you want. I can't lose you or our child. If anything happens to either of you, I'll lose my mind." Phoebe forced herself upright. He was right—she couldn't die now. If she did, until her last breath, she would still be his wife. She no longer wanted that. She wanted to leave him. Suppressing the nausea rising in her throat, she picked up the bowl and took a sip of the porridge. Seeing her finally eat, Nathan's face lit up with relief. "Phoebe, you're eating! What else do you want? I'll have the kitchen make it for you—no, I'll cook it myself!" But before his words had fully settled, Phoebe bent forward and vomited everything back up. Her body was too weak. Even when she forced herself to eat, nothing stayed down. Within a minute, it all came back out. Left with no choice, Nathan took her to the hospital for observation. But even after being admitted, her condition remained dire. The attending physician, brows furrowed with worry, gave him a grim assessment. "Mr. Marshal, your wife is not in a condition to continue the pregnancy. If she does, both mother and child will be at serious risk." "I recommend delivering early," the doctor continued. "Although it's still risky at this stage, the safest window is after six and a half to seven months. We can attempt a cesarean section then." "Will that endanger Phoebe?" Nathan's voice was tight with panic. "Our recommendation is based on her current health," the doctor said. "Once the baby is delivered, we can focus entirely on treating her without worrying about complications from the pregnancy." "Then do it," Nathan said without hesitation. "Get that little brat out of her as soon as possible. How dare he make Phoebe suffer like this? I'll make him pay for it when he grows up—I swear I will." A nearby nurse, moved by his words, leaned toward Phoebe and whispered, "Your husband loves you so much. Most men, when they come in with their wives for checkups, only care about the baby. And that's if they bother to come at all. Many women have to go through this alone." "But look at your husband," she added softly. "He cares about you more than anything. He's willing to deliver the baby at six months just to spare you any more pain." Phoebe smiled faintly but said nothing. Pregnancy was supposed to be a sacred, joyous experience, the miracle of bringing new life into the world. But why, then, was it filled with so much suffering—for her and for so many others like her? Chapter 7 Phoebe had no intention of keeping the baby. Quietly, she reached out to her brother. Under his arrangement, she transferred to another hospital. "Phoebe, why the sudden transfer?" Nathan asked, confusion in his voice. "You're scheduled for a C-section soon. Isn't it risky to change hospitals now?" "My brother arranged it," Phoebe replied coolly. "He said the doctors here work directly with the military. They're more reliable." Nathan's doubts eased. "If it's your brother's recommendation, it should be fine." Phoebe's brother had always been the authority figure in their family. Nathan trusted his judgment without question. The transfer proceeded smoothly. The new hospital's plan remained the same—an early delivery. The surgery was scheduled for the following day. Nathan cleared his schedule. He moved into the hospital to stay by Phoebe's side. "You don't have to do this," Phoebe said flatly. "You're busy. It's okay if you're not here for this." The truth was, she didn't want to see him. "Nothing is more important than you," Nathan said, his voice soft with affection. "You've gone through so much carrying this child. If I leave you now, how could I call myself a man?" He smiled faintly. "I can't do much to help, but at least I can bring you water tonight." Phoebe said nothing more. That night, she woke up needing to use the bathroom. Struggling to sit up, she turned on the light and glanced at the bed beside hers. It was empty. Nathan was gone. A chill crept through her heart. Without hesitation, she picked up her phone. As she expected, a message from Clara awaited her. [Room 606.] Following the numbers along the corridor, Phoebe stopped in front of the door. Laughter, soft and teasing, drifted through the crack. "Master, your little bunny is sick," Clara's voice was sweet, almost cloying. "She needs a big, thick syringe thrust into her body to make her feel better..." "Are you insane?" Nathan's voice, low and tense, cut through the air. "Why did you come to the hospital? Phoebe's surgery is tomorrow. She can't handle any stress." "As long as she doesn't find out, what's the harm?" Clara giggled as she slipped her arms around his neck. "Master, your little bunny wore a nurse's outfit just for you. Don't you want to see it?" He hesitated. It was slight but enough for Clara to press closer. Her hand slid down, fingers deftly working at his belt. "You've been holding back for so long," she whispered. "Aren't you suffering? Let me help you..." The sound of his zipper filled the room. Then, slowly, she knelt before him. His breathing grew heavier. Whatever resistance he had left crumbled as he placed a hand on the back of her head. The sounds that followed were obscene. Phoebe closed her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She turned and walked away without a word. On the elevator ride down, her fingers trembled as she dialed her brother's number. "Move the surgery up," she said. "I can't take this anymore. Get this child out of me—tonight." Disgust twisted in her stomach. The preparations were swift. Within hours, Phoebe was on the operating table, staring at the bulge of her belly. Six and a half months. The baby was almost viable. Could she really kill a child that had already taken shape inside her? For a long moment, she lay silent. In the end, she gave him one last chance. "Call Nathan," she told the doctor. "Tell him the surgery has been moved up. If he comes right away and stays with me, I'll keep the baby. I'll leave with the child and never look back." Her voice hardened. "If he doesn't, I don't want this child." She had done nothing wrong. She refused to bear the weight of killing her own child. If this baby died tonight, the blood would be on Nathan's hands. Chapter 8 "Mr. Marshal, your wife has suddenly developed a high fever and lost consciousness. We can't wake her up." The doctor, following Phoebe's instructions, called Nathan. His voice was tense over the phone. "For her safety, we have no choice but to perform the C-section ahead of schedule. Where are you? You should come immediately." "...What? The surgery is early?" Nathan's breathing sounded unsteady. "...Okay, wait for me. I'll be there right away." At the same time, Phoebe made a video call to Clara and pressed record. As expected, Clara answered. "Master, you wouldn't leave me now, would you?" Her voice was soft and sweet, dripping with feigned innocence. "We just started the foreplay. We haven't even gotten to the good part yet." "I don't have time. Phoebe is about to give birth. I need to be with her." Nathan hurriedly pulled on his clothes. "You're not a doctor. What good will you do there?" Clara stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. "What she needs now is a doctor, not you. But your little bunny..." She guided his hand under her skirt. "Your little bunny really needs you right now. Feel for yourself." Nathan swallowed hard. "...Stop it. Phoebe has suffered so much to give me this child. If I'm not by her side when she delivers, what kind of man would I be?" "But she's already unconscious. Even if you rush there now, she won't know you came." Clara stood on her tiptoes and whispered against his ear, her breath warm. "Besides, during a C-section, the doctors won't even let you into the operating room. You'll just be waiting outside. Since you're only going to wait, why not stay here and take care of your sick little bunny instead?" "She won't find out," she added softly, delivering the final blow. And just like that, Nathan gave in. He flipped Clara beneath him, pressing her into the bed. "Fine," he growled. "I'll cure your fever properly tonight." At that moment, something inside Phoebe broke beyond repair. She ended the video call, turned to the doctor, and said quietly, "Do it." The cold metal of the surgical instruments entered her body. Even with the anesthesia, the pain was unbearable. It felt as if her soul was being torn apart. The procedure took over an hour. When it was done, the child was gone. Phoebe lay pale and drenched in cold sweat. The mattress beneath her was soaked through. "Miss Harris," the doctor said, "your brother has prepared everything for you—a passport, a visa, and a new identity overseas. There's also a medical team on the plane. If you wish to leave, you can go tonight. Once you leave, your identity here will be erased. Phoebe Harris will cease to exist." Phoebe closed her eyes. For the first time in months, she smiled—a small, quiet smile from deep within. "I want to leave now," she said. "Understood. We'll make the arrangements immediately," the doctor replied. Just before she boarded the plane, the doctor asked, "What should we do with the fetus?" "Give it to Nathan," Phoebe whispered, her voice weak but steady. "And when you do, tell him this—I was going to keep the baby. If he had kept his promise and stayed with me during the delivery, our child would have lived. But he didn't. When I needed him most—when his child needed him most—he was with Clara. He killed his own flesh and blood." The medical team lifted her onto the plane. As the cabin door closed, Phoebe pulled out her phone. She sent Nathan the recorded video and every cruel, taunting message Clara had sent her over the past weeks. When the files were sent, she handed her phone to the nurse. "Throw it away." The plane began its ascent. That familiar weightless feeling settled over her. Through the small window, Phoebe took one last look at the city below. 'Goodbye, Nathan. Don't look for me. Don't apologize. I will never forgive you.'