Chapter 50

My phone vibrated with Vivian's reply. I stared at the "OK" emoji, inexplicably irritated.

"Why suddenly go to psychiatry?" I asked casually.

Ethan's gaze cut through me like a blade. "Too noisy. Needed him to shut up."

I let out a cold laugh.

How presumptuous.

Did he really think he was avenging me by confronting Daniel?

My fingers absently traced the bandage on my neck. "I'm fine now. You can leave, Uncle Ethan. Isabella was looking for you earlier."

The moment Ethan stepped out, Isabella stormed into the room. Finding him gone, she launched into another round of passive-aggressive jabs.

Suddenly, the man closed the distance, gripping my chin to force my gaze up. "Jealous?"

"You think that's possible?" I smirked mockingly.

He released me with a disdainful chuckle. "Right. I forgot—you're an ungrateful brat."

Use and discard.

Even a stray dog would call you its master.

After Ethan left, I drifted into a fitful sleep. My dreams twisted into grotesque shapes, finally freezing on an image of Daniel's mangled corpse. I jolted awake in a cold sweat.

"Maybe you should see a therapist?" Vivian asked worriedly.

Witnessing death firsthand—she feared it would break me.

I gulped water to steady myself. "No need. I'm not that fragile."

"At this rate, I'm afraid you won't be able to keep the baby."

The dual torment of body and mind was too dangerous for a pregnant woman.

I gently cradled my stomach. "I'll protect them with everything I have."

"Didn't expect you to care so much about the child." Vivian sounded surprised.

"I don't usually like kids," I admitted.

Growing up fatherless, most of the cruelty I endured came from peers' taunts. I never learned to connect with children.

Others coo over cute babies—I just watch from afar.

But this little life inside me is different. Just an embryo, yet I can already feel its quiet pulse.

The thought of having someone to share my life with suddenly made the future seem brighter.

Vivian studied my softened expression and reached out to touch my belly. "The father's a scumbag, but the genes are decent. Your kid's going to be ridiculously pretty."

"What are you scheming now?" I eyed her warily.

She took a bite of her apple, grinning. "Just securing my godmother privileges early."

If it's a boy, he'll have girls swooning—and they'll all cozy up to me for favors.

If it's a girl, suitors will line up—and I'll be drowning in gifts.

I shook my head. "The baby's not even born yet. You're getting ahead of yourself."