Nina’s tear-filled eyes widened in disbelief, her pupils filled with shattered light.
"This matter, it’s not your fault."
Ian Kane raised his left hand, leisurely adjusting his shirt cuff with his right hand, the cufflinks gifted by Vera Sheridan gleaming coldly at his fingertips.
His tone was nonchalant, as if discussing the weather: "Every ti you finished the whole bowl of soup, I should comnd you."
Nina was initially stunned, then suddenly, a bone-chilling coldness poured down from above, as if she had been hit hard.
Her hand, hidden under the quilt, instantly clenched the bedsheet, her knuckles whitening from the force.
Uncontrollable images flashed through her mind every night — his figure busy in the kitchen, the bowl of steaming soup placed before her...
So, in the soup... there was dicine...
That’s why... she had a threatened miscarriage...
The blood drained from her small face, leaving only a pale "unbelievable."
She silently gazed at the elegant and cruel man before her, lips trembling: "Why, why? Didn’t you need this child?!"
Of course, she had witnessed his ruthless violence.
But... even a tiger doesn’t eat its cubs!
Isn’t that right?
Ian Kane’s lips curled into a cold arc, the smile not reaching his eyes: "Besides considering whether it might inherit your family’s inferior spinal disease genes..."
He paused, his gaze like poisoned ice blades, piercing straight at her, "Does a plaything dare to aspire to bear my child?"
He stood up, his tall figure casting an oppressive shadow, completely enveloping her.
A cold voice dropped from above: "Do you know what I hate the most?"
Nina’s mind was in chaos.
She had naively thought Ian Kane was "harsh in words but sincere in action," forbidding her to cause a scene before Vera Sheridan, yet in passion, he seed to want to crush and devour her.
She thought she held so place in his heart.
Especially after becoming pregnant, she dread of "mother securing her status through child," yet never imagined he needed this child, yet personally killed it!
How could she know what he hated?
The man’s gaze was like a knife, cutting into her, word by word, clear and brutal: "Third party."
Nina was utterly shocked.
Hate third parties? Then why did he cheat with her?!
Ian Kane stared at the pale, frail woman on the hospital bed, her disheveled wavy hair spread out like a broken doll.
Faint childhood mories flickered in his mind, curving his lips into a genuine smile.
"A child of a third party," his slender fingers subconsciously rubbed the wedding ring on his ring finger, his voice light as a sigh, "doesn’t deserve to be brought into this world."
Nina’s entire body trembled! His aning couldn’t be more clear — only Vera Sheridan, that la woman, had the right to bear his child!
But that la woman couldn’t even give birth!
This sentence, Nina bit down on, not daring to let a single word slip.
She feared if she spoke, Ian Kane would make her disappear imdiately.
He still loved that la woman.
Afraid Vera Sheridan would find out about his affair, he would rather kill her child!
Despair and resentnt coiled tight around her heart like venomous vines.
Nina gripped the bedsheet beneath her tightly, her nails nearly tearing through the fabric.
Ian Kane didn’t spare another glance at her, turned, and strode out of the ward.
The heavy door closed, cutting off the last sliver of light.
In the cold hospital room, only Nina remained.
She timidly watched the direction he disappeared, a chill creeping along her spine as if a poisonous snake had slithered over.
A faint ache radiated from her lower abdon, clearly reminding her — this child couldn’t be saved...
A huge wave of reluctance overwheld her like a tsunami.
Nina suddenly pulled the quilt over her head, and finally, the repressed, heart-wrenching wails broke through her throat, echoing despairingly in the empty hospital room.
...
Inside the black Phantom, smoke lingered.
Ian Kane lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and slowly exhaled a gray-white ring of smoke.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Elias Crowe turned, his brow furrowed, speaking with concern: "President Kane, with Miss Sullivan losing the baby, will she... beco desperate? What if she has solid evidence and goes directly to the madam..."
"Just soone who doesn’t know their limits." Ian flicked the ash, his gaze indifferent, carrying a barely perceptible contempt, "One after another, overestimating themselves, trying to fight ."
"A cat-and-mouse ga," he brushed off non-existent dust, weariness seeping into his tone, "I’m tired of it too. Leave Nina Sullivan for you to handle."
Elias Crowe lowered his head, his voice deepening: "President Kane, these... I’m not skilled at handling." His aning was clear, worried that Ian Kane would make him do things that crossed the line.
Ian Kane glanced at him sideways, a faint smile on his face: "What? You think I’m asking you to kill and rob?"
Elias Crowe imdiately raised his chin, his expression respectful and solemn: "Please enlighten !"
Ian Kane only said one thing, "Exploit human weaknesses."
The rest, Ian left for Elias to ponder over himself.
Kane Manor, master bedroom.
Vera Sheridan held the phone in her hand, her fingertips ice-cold.
On the screen was a secretly recorded video sent by Maeve Holloway.
The video was a bit shaky, but recognizable—
Ian Kane walked out of a hospital room with a stern expression, followed by his assistant Elias Crowe and two black-suited bodyguards, exuding an imposing aura.
"Vera, it’s confird, the person in the hospital room is Nina. What they talked about or did specifically, I couldn’t find out. This was taken at great risk by soone I know," Maeve’s voice ca through the receiver, filled with concern.
Vera’s heart sank heavily, as if plunging into an ice cave.
If Ian Kane and Nina Sullivan were truly innocent, why would he appear in her hospital room? At such a sensitive ti?
"Maeve, what about the Hawthornes? Are they not around?" Vera’s voice carried a subtle tremor, feeling as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff, unsure whether to believe Nina’s accusations or Ian Kane’s past vows.
Maeve sighed: "Nina just had a D&C procedure, and not a single mber of the Hawthornes showed up. I heard Quentin’s parents and the elder of The Hawthorne Family have ordered Quentin to cut ties with her completely."
Vera put down the phone and walked to the dressing mirror.
The mirror reflected a pale and haggard face, dark circles heavily shadowed under her eyes, filled with exhaustion and confusion.
She looked at her reflection and murmured, more like questioning her own heart:
"Suspecting him... brings guilt. Outwardly, he’s flawlessly kind to , especially when my body and mind are both flawed, he’s never shown a hint of disdain... Trusting him, though, feels like having a thorn prickling within..."
"Maeve," her voice was thick with exhaustion, "why did I soften... and agree to marry him back then?"
If it hadn’t been for that accident, for his selfless protection, for her prayers and promises by his sickbed... would there not be such heart-wrenching tornt now?
Less than a year ago, beneath the night sky of Parnassus, blue fireworks burst magnificently under the Eiffel Tower.
Ian Kane flew in from Ardendale, kneeling on one knee before her with deep affection.
She heartlessly turned him down.
The next day, she went to the airport alone, setting off for a performance in ridia.
The prearranged taxi canceled last minute.
The persistent Ian Kane insisted on driving her.
Midway, an accident occurred.
In a critical mont, he unbuckled his seat belt, throwing himself over to protect her without a second thought.
He was in a coma for a full half-month in the ICU.
She stayed by the stark white walls, praying over and over that as long as he awoke, she would marry him.
Miraculously, he did awaken.
The first thing he did upon waking was to resolutely propose again.
And true to her word, she married him.
On the other end of the line, Maeve fell silent for a mont, only able to tenderly console: "Vera, face whatever cos, be brave! Don’t regret past choices or worry about an uncertain future."
Vera closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
For now, it seed there was no other choice.
That night, Ian Kane did not return ho.
Vera knew he was mad at her, or perhaps... dealing with Nina’s troubles.
The next day, during a break in dance practice with the troupe, her phone rang suddenly.
The na flashing on the screen made Vera’s heart constrict sharply.
She hesitated for a mont but picked up anyway.
Nina’s voice ca through the receiver, no longer timid as it once was, but rather sharp and arrogant:
"Ms. Sheridan, I’m at the Blue Shore Café, diagonally opposite your dance troupe right now. I’ve got so very ’spectacular’ private photos of your husband with ."
She deliberately emphasized the word "spectacular," her tone dripping with malice, "I’ll wait for half an hour, not a minute more."
As soon as she finished speaking, she hung up decisively.
The "beep... beep... beep..." of the busy signal pierced Vera’s eardrum like icy needles.
This unexpected "heavy blow" struck hard at her already fragile defenses.
To go, or not to go?
This dilemma, like cold iron chains, instantly gripped her throat.
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