Chapter 3

"Listen to me, Robert. We only have two daughters, right? I know Evelyn isn't your biological child, but—"

Victoria didn't get to finish before Robert cut her off. He had been bedridden for months, though his health had improved recently. "Just say what you mean. I'm your husband, after all."

"I know you love me and our Sophia..." Victoria took his frail hand, her voice softening. "You mentioned sending Evelyn abroad after high school, didn't you? Sophia is only two years older, and all she does now is party at bars. She's throwing her life away, and it terrifies me. She's my only blood-related child! Robert, I want her to study overseas with Evelyn!"

Evelyn stood outside the door, her brow furrowing.

Sophia was twenty now, but she had learned to skip school back in middle school.

Smoking, drinking, staying out all night—those were just a few of the colorful labels attached to her.

Evelyn had never liked this stepsister of hers.

Robert Sinclair wasn't rich. His life savings totaled six hundred thousand, earned through relentless work for this second family of his. He had pushed himself so hard that his liver had nearly given out.

The doctors had declared him terminal, yet he refused to touch a single penny of that money for his own treatment.

Two months ago, he had made it clear—he was done fighting.

Once a patient gave up, neither doctors nor family could change their mind.

With tears in his eyes, he had forced Evelyn to listen to his will. "Evelyn, I haven’t accomplished much in life. All I have is this six hundred thousand for you. Don’t grieve too much when I’m gone. After the funeral, take the money and study abroad. Live well. Don’t be greedy like your mother or useless like me. If you promise me that, I can die in peace."

Even now, the memory made Evelyn’s eyes burn.

She knew her father would rather die than spend that money on himself. That was why she had made the secret deal—funds for his treatment, a donor, in exchange for...

She watched through the door as her father and stepmother exchanged loving words. Instead of warmth, she felt only a suffocating frustration.

In the end, she didn’t enter.

Downstairs, she ran straight into Sophia.

"Well, if it isn’t perfect little Evelyn." Sophia shoved her lightly, a slim cigarette between her fingers. She blew smoke into Evelyn’s face, then eyed her up and down with a smirk. "You’re eighteen now, and Daddy’s dying because he won’t pay for treatment. Why don’t you sell yourself a few more times? Might keep him alive a little longer."

Evelyn met her stepsister’s revolting gaze evenly. The anger inside her boiled over. She spat in Sophia’s face. "Great idea. Must feel as good as letting out a massive fart."

Sophia’s eyes flashed. Evelyn’s defiance lit a fire in her.

"You little brat! Since when do you talk back to me?"

Evelyn walked away, shoulders slumped.

Sophia trembled with rage. "Oh, playing the saint again? Can’t wait to see your true colors! Even your dad said your mom was shameless! Maybe you should get a DNA test—who knows which one-night stand’s bastard you really are!"

At seven months pregnant, Evelyn could feel the life inside her growing stronger. Every kick filled her with an indescribable joy.

She began imagining the baby’s face.

A boy? A girl?

Her stomach was enormous. Was the baby getting too much nutrition?

Since overhearing her father agree to send Sophia abroad, Evelyn had visited the hospital less.

It wasn’t that she loved him any less. But her swelling belly was harder to hide, even under thick winter clothes.

And Victoria was always there. Evelyn didn’t know if it was concern for her husband or fear that the six hundred thousand would vanish.

She could only hope it was the former.

Soon, Evelyn learned her father had returned to work—overtime, business trips, no rest.

Furious, she tried to reason with him over the phone, but it was useless.

After the new year, her due date arrived.

She was admitted to the best private maternity ward, surrounded by attentive female doctors. Tests, monitoring, nothing was overlooked.

Evelyn never asked about the baby’s father, but the staff sometimes discussed him openly. They never named him, but she knew—he wasn’t just some ordinary businessman.

She didn’t understand her own condition until she overheard the doctors’ verdict.

They wanted a C-section.

Then she was wheeled into the operating room.

The procedure was painless. The real agony came later.

For nine months, the child had been part of her. Now, suddenly, it was gone.

They were separated.

The loss of her own flesh tore through her like a blade.

Tears spilled silently down her cheeks.

This had been a fair, formal deal from the start. So why did it hurt so much?

Margaret watched Evelyn’s silent grief. As she was wheeled out, Margaret delivered her orders. "You’re only nineteen. This must stay a secret forever. Move on, child. Live well."

The words were meant to comfort, but they cut deep.

"Is it... a boy or a girl?" Evelyn whispered.

"A girl. Perfectly healthy," Margaret lied.

In truth, Evelyn had given birth to twins—a boy and a girl.

Evelyn closed her eyes, exhausted.

A girl.

Her daughter.

Evelyn stayed only ten days in the hospital.

She couldn’t bear the emptiness, the constant ache of missing her child.

Back in her rented room, she called her father.

Victoria answered. "Evelyn? Your dad’s busy. What do you want?"

Evelyn paused. Since when had reaching her father become so hard?

"When will he be free?"

"Who knows? He’s working himself to death for your future. Should I have him call you back?"

"I’ll wait." Evelyn hung up.

She knew Victoria wouldn’t pass on the message.

Now, she could count her family on one hand.

Her father, slaving away in another city for this fractured household.

Her newborn daughter—somewhere in this city, or maybe far away. From birth, that child belonged to the man behind the deal.

And her mother? As if she had never existed.

Evelyn didn’t know her face, her whereabouts, her life.

Did she ever miss her daughter?