Hiding His Heir: The Billionaire's Regret

1.

Everyone in Manhattan knew that Julian Blackwood, the CEO of Blackwood Capital, was a notorious playboy. He never wasted more than a weekend on the same womanDuntil he met me.

The first day after we broke up, he abandoned his company during its critical IPO launch just to win me back. He stood outside my family's Pierce estate in the Hamptons for a full day and night, drenched in a fucking downpour. I didn't even open the curtains.

The second day, he clumsily made Coq au Vin. This was a man who had barely used a microwave in his life. I dumped the entire plate straight into the garbage disposal.

The third day, he dropped a fortune at a Sotheby's auction to buy back my grandmother's Monet's "Water Lilies."

Then, in a *Vanity Fair* exclusive, he publicly announced he was "hanging up his hat for good," vowing he would never touch another woman as long as he lived.

This whole spectacle went on for a year. Eventually, my heart softened, and I agreed to get back together.

To celebrate, he had 999 drones light up the sky over the Hudson River, spelling out our initials, eager to announce our engagement to the world.

When the *New York Post's* "Page Six" column mocked my family's struggling business, saying I wasn't good enough for him, he shorted the newspaper's parent company stock, forcing the columnist to print a front-page apology.

I really thought Julian loved me.

Until that day at the Monticello Motor Club. He'd taken me to watch a friend's amateur race. I saw a scantily clad grid girl get shoved around, treated like an object, a piece of "party entertainment." Her makeup was ruined by tears, mascara streaking down her face.

Julian's brow furrowed.

The next second, he was on his feet, leaving my side without a word and striding toward the track.

"Is that Julian Blackwood getting behind the wheel himself?" someone gasped.

The entire club erupted.

I stood in the stands, my fingers gripping the cold metal railing, a chill piercing me to the bone.

He had sworn to me he'd never race again. Because I was terrified of him getting hurt, waking up from nightmares every night, he had even burned all his racing licenses and trophies right in front of me.

The starting gun fired.

Julian's Porsche 911 GT3 shot off the line like an arrow. He barely slowed for the corners, the tires screaming against the asphalt.

His driving was as reckless as ever, every overtake a dance with death.

On the final lap, he rocketed across the finish line first.

The crowd roared.

Before the dust even settled, Julian threw open the car door and strode toward that girl. In front of everyone, he stripped off his Tom Ford shirt, revealing his muscular torso, and draped it over the trembling shoulders of the girl, whose name was Vanessa.

"You're safe now," he said, his voice softer than I had ever heard it.

Then he pulled Vanessa into the car, reversed, and slammed it hard into the side of the hedge fund manager's car who had been harassing her.

Only after doing all that did he finally look up at me.

"Scarlett, don't be angry," his voice carried clearly across the entire racetrack. "She's in this mess because of us."

I was suddenly thrown back to the night I found out he had cheated, a year ago. He had looked at me the same way then, saying, "Scarlett, let me explain. I blacked out. I thought she was you."

That night, I had smashed the Tiffany engagement ring and stormed out.

Now, I stood frozen, my nails digging deep into my palms.

"Because of us?" I sneered. "Julian, why don't you explain exactly how this is 'because of us'?"

He froze, clearly not expecting me to challenge him in public.

"A year ago, you cheated and said you were drunk and mistook her for me. Now you race for her, protect her like she's some treasure, and say she's in this mess because of us." My voice began to tremble. "Julian, how many more excuses do you have?"

He frowned, his tone turning cold. "Scarlett, this isn't the place."

"Not the place?" I laughed, but tears streamed down my face against my will. "I thought I was done crying over you."

From behind him, Vanessa tugged gently on his arm. "Mr. Blackwood, please don't fight with your wife because of me"

Julian patted her hand, but his eyes were locked on me. "Whatever it is, we'll talk about it at home."

"Home?" I looked at him shielding another woman and found it utterly ridiculous. "Julian, do you remember what you said in that *Vanity Fair* interview?"

His face darkened. Before he could speak, I had already turned away.

"Scarlett!" he yelled from behind me.

I didn't look back. I just walked away, each step firm and final.

The next day, I came back from Fifth Avenue with my best friend. As soon as I stepped out of the car, I saw Vanessa running out of my Central Park West apartment, her clothes in disarray. Her hair was a mess, her lips were swollen, and the hickeys on her neck were disgustingly visible in the sunlight.

Julian ran out after her, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw me.

"Scarlett, listen to meD" For the first time, he looked panicked. "She bribed the doorman to get in, said she wanted to thank me. Nothing happened."

I stared at the marks on Vanessa's neck, and a wave of nausea washed over me.

"Julian," I said softly, "send her away. Los Angeles, Chicago, Miami, I don't care where. Just get her out of my sight."

He was silent for a moment. "She has nowhere to go. She can't survive in New York on her own."

"Then we're getting a divorce," I said. "Either she leaves, or I do."

Julian's brow tightened, his gaze turning icy.

"Scarlett, that trick won't work a second time," he said, stepping toward me, looming over me. "The first time, I was willing to play along with your little tantrum."

He reached out to touch my face, but I flinched away.

"You think you can just leave whenever you want?" he scoffed. "Who do you think I am?"

"And don't forget, without me, you're nothing but a bargaining chip for the Pierce family, ready to be married off at any moment."

His words were a poisoned dagger, stabbing right into my softest, most vulnerable spot.

He knew my weaknesses all too well.

"From now on, Vanessa stays. As my personal assistant," he finally declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I finally snapped. I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face.

"Julian, you make me sick."

He turned his head to the side, rolling his tongue against the inside of his stinging cheek, then looked back at me with cold eyes.

"Cool off," he said. "I won't be home for a few days."

Watching him turn and walk away, I suddenly laughed.

Just then, my phone buzzed. I looked down and saw the message I had been waiting for:

`Mrs. Blackwood, your private deep-sea exploration trip on the Titan II submersible from 'OceanGate' is confirmed. You may depart at any time.`

It was supposed to be my anniversary surprise for JulianDto take him to the deepest part of the ocean, to tell him, thousands of feet below the surface, that we were having a baby.

Not anymore.

I replied: `Cancel the plan.`

Then I dialed another number. "Draw up divorce papers for me."

After hanging up, I placed a hand on my stomach, where a tiny life Julian knew nothing about was growing.

"Baby," I whispered, "Mommy's going to show you an even deeper sea."

2.

"Mrs. Blackwood, this morning's papers." My assistant placed *The Wall Street Journal* and *The New York Times* on the table, her head bowed so low it was almost touching her chest.

I waved her away.

For seven days, Julian hadn't come home. Instead, there was a relentless flood of gossip: he took Vanessa to a charity gala, buying her a Harry Winston blue diamond necklace; he was photographed gently patting her back in the hallway of a private clinic on the Upper East Side; he was seen leaving a board meeting, openly holding her hand

I grabbed my Herms Birkin bag and drove to the Blackwood Group headquarters on Wall Street.

The receptionists face went pale when she saw me. She tried to call upstairs, but a single glare from me stopped her. I walked straight to the CEO's private elevator and swiped my card.

On the top floor, Vanessa was standing by the copy machine, dressed in a form-fitting Celine suit.

"Mrs. Blackwood?" She took an involuntary step back when she saw me.

I didn't give her time to react. I walked up and slapped her hard across the face.

The sharp sound echoed through the office, plunging it into a dead silence.

"Vanessa, I don't have a problem with Julian feeling sorry for you and refusing to send you away," my voice rang out, clear and cold. "But you need to know your place. As long as I am his wife, you are nothing. Just a mistress."

She clutched her cheek, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Blackwood. I never meant to get in the wayD"

"Scarlett!"

Julian's voice boomed from behind me. He strode over, pulling Vanessa behind him and shielding her, his eyes glacial as he stared at me.

"When did you become so petty?" he sneered. "Don't forget, you were once the one at everyone's mercy. Without me, you are nothing."

My heart felt like it had been pierced through. It was true. The old Scarlett Pierce, a pawn in her familys games, would never have become Mrs. Blackwood if not for Julian.

But now, this very man was using my most painful past to humiliate me.

"Go home," he commanded. "The family trust committee wants to see you."

I almost laughed out loud. The Blackwood family trust committee. That meant his father and the family lawyers would review my "improper conduct," and would likely freeze my credit cards and accounts. When we got married, he had joked that he would never let me suffer such a humiliation.

Suddenly, Vanessa let out a soft groan and collapsed.

"Vanessa!" Julian caught her, his face instantly shifting from anger to worry. He shot me a venomous glare. "If anything happens to her, I will never forgive you."

He scooped her up and rushed toward the elevator, not even glancing back at me.

I stood there, feeling the mix of pitying and mocking stares from everyone around me. The last bit of warmth in my heart vanished.

It was dark by the time I returned to the apartment. As soon as I opened the door, two strange men grabbed me.

"Sorry, Mrs. Blackwood. Mr. Blackwood's orders. We need to take you somewhere."

I struggled, but it was useless. They shoved me into a car and drove upstate.

The car finally stopped in front of a secluded private sanatorium. It was the most famous mental wellness center on the East CoastDor rather, a "luxury prison" for disobedient members of wealthy families.

Julian was standing at the entrance, his silhouette as hard as iron in the night.

"Vanessa's awake," he said. "The doctor said she has a mild concussion and... she's emotionally unstable."

I stared at him coldly, saying nothing.

"Do you know why I have to keep her around?" he took a step closer, his voice low. "Because that night, a year ago, she got pregnant. With my child."

My breath hitched.

"Because I blacklisted her, she kept losing jobs, she was overworked and she lost the baby." His voice was filled with a pain I had never heard before. "It was right around the time I was making a big show of winning you back, announcing our engagement with drones. She was alone in a hospital, even developed symptoms of postpartum depression."

"If you hadn't made such a scene back then, none of this would have happened," Julian said quietly. "Scarlett, you owe her."

"I owe her?" I finally spoke, my voice hoarse.

"Yes," he admitted without hesitation. "Scarlett, that slap was too much. She couldn't handle it."

He turned to the director of the sanatorium. "Doctor, let her stay here for seven days to rest and reflect. The standard 'meditation' treatment."

I looked at him in disbelief. "Julian, you're locking me up in here?"

"It's not imprisonment, it's therapy," he corrected. "Seven days. Then I'll come get you."

He started to leave, but I grabbed his sleeve. "And if I refuse?"

He gently pulled his arm away, his eyes devoid of any warmth. "Then forget about a divorce, Scarlett. You know how New York works. Without my consent, you're not going anywhere."

He left.

The sanatorium doors closed slowly behind me.

3.

The days that followed were a living hell. I was forced to wake up at four in the morning to meditate in a freezing room. The food was hard, dry bread and cold water, barely edible. At night, I slept on a hard wooden plank with a thin blanket.

On the third night, I developed a high fever. A dull ache started in my lower abdomen, forcing me to curl into a ball in the corner of the bed.

"Baby," I whispered, stroking my belly, tears silently streaming down my face, "just hold on a little longer"

I curled up on the hard bed, my vision blurring from the fever. The pulling pain in my abdomen grew sharper and more frequent, and cold sweat soaked through my thin patient gown.

"Doctor" I struggled to the door, using all my strength to pound on it. "Please I need to see a doctor"

I heard the doctor's calm voice from the other side. "Mrs. Blackwood, your husband warned us you might use various tricks to avoid your therapy. I cannot make an exception."

"I'm not trying to escape" my voice was so hoarse I could barely speak. "I'm really sick please"

The door creaked open. The doctor stood there, flanked by two burly orderlies.

"Take Mrs. Blackwood back to her room."

The orderlies grabbed me, dragging me roughly back to the bed. I fought with all my might but was pinned down.

"You can't do this" I cried out in despair. "I'm pregnant my baby"

The doctor's expression didn't change. "Mrs. Blackwood, please do not lie. Your husband specifically warned us that you have a tendency to manipulate people."

I was thrown back onto the bed. My head hit the hard wooden frame, and my vision went black.

"Watch her closely," the doctor ordered. "Morning meditation begins at four."

The door closed again, the sound of the lock clicking into place sharp and final.

I curled up in the darkness, feeling my body temperature slowly drop.

"Baby" I weakly stroked my belly, tears and sweat soaking my pillow. "I'm sorry Mommy can't protect you"

My consciousness began to fade. The last thing I saw was the cold moon outside my window.

When I woke up again, the sharp smell of antiseptic filled my nose.

I opened my heavy eyelids to the white ceiling of Mount Sinai Hospital. An IV was taped to the back of my hand, cold liquid slowly dripping into my veins.

"You're awake."

Julian's voice came from beside the bed. I turned my head and saw him sitting there, his eyes bloodshot, a dark stubble covering his jaw.

"The doctor said your temperature hit 104 degrees. Another hour and" His voice was raw. He reached out to touch my face, but I jerked away.

"Scarlett, can't you just cooperate for once?" He rubbed his temples wearily. "We already owe Vanessa so much. It was a life, after all."

I looked at him and suddenly laughed. It was a dry, desolate sound.

"Julian, do you even believe yourself when you say that?" I asked softly. "You've slept with countless women, never using protection. You've forced God knows how many to 'take care of' your accidents. You know it. And now, suddenly, you're feeling guilty? Why don't you go compensate every single one of them?"

His face darkened instantly. "Scarlett, why do you have to be so damn unreasonable? Vanessa just wants a chance at a normal life. All I did was give her a job"

His words were cut off by his ringing phone.

He glanced at the caller ID, frowned slightly, but answered.

"Mr. Blackwood I'm so sorry" Vanessa's tearful voice leaked from the earpiece, startlingly clear in the quiet room. "I screwed up the Sterling Capital contract That Mr. Sterling, he he tried to touch me. I got scared and ran He's furious now"

Julian's expression grew uglier by the second. "Where are you? I'm on my way."

He hung up and stood. "There's an emergency at the office. I'll have a nurse look after you."

Not long after he rushed out, a nurse came in to change my IV drip.

"Mrs. Blackwood, you're so lucky. Your husband cares about you so much," the young nurse said with envy. "I heard he broke one of that Sterling guy's hands for you. Now everyone on Wall Street knows not to mess with Mrs. Blackwood."

I closed my eyes, feeling a profound sense of exhaustion.

This marriage, this man, this city they were suffocating me.

I had to leave. But before that, I needed to find a way to make him sign the divorce papers.

4.

I was discharged and went home to a cold, empty apartment.

The housekeeper greeted me, her eyes darting away. When I asked where Julian was, she mumbled that he hadn't been home in days.

I called my private investigator and pieced together the truth. Ever since Vanessa had been harassed, Julian had put her on a pedestal. He personally drove her to and from work in his Maybach, not caring if the multi-million dollar car got scratched in the rundown alleys of Brooklyn, insisting on dropping her right at her door. Later, feeling sorry for her shabby living conditions, hed waved his hand and spent millions on a new apartment for her in TriBeCa.

I stood in the middle of the vast, empty living room, feeling a chill run through my body. How ridiculous it was that I had once thrown everything away for him.

I dialed Julian's number. It rang for a long time before he picked up, the background noise loud and chaotic.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice laced with impatience.

"Come home."

"I can't. I'm busy."

I took a deep breath. "Julian, do you remember what day it is today?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then his tone softened slightly. "...I'll be right back."

After hanging up, I waited from dusk until deep into the night, and from night until the early hours of the morning.

Finally, a noise came from the entryway. I walked over and saw Vanessa struggling to support a dead-drunk Julian. He was leaning on her completely, out cold.

Vanessa saw me, a look of timid awkwardness on her face. "Mrs. Blackwood today is my birthday. Mr. Blackwood had a little too much to drink celebrating. Please don't be angry."

I looked at her and sneered. "What right do you have to tell me not to be angry? As his assistant? Or as his mistress?"

Her eyes immediately turned red, and she looked on the verge of tears as she apologized, "I'm sorry"

Just then, Julian, who was stumbling drunk, seemed to sense something. He instinctively tried to shield Vanessa behind him, slurring, "Scarlett don't don't bully her"

The last flicker of warmth in my heart died out. I coldly called for the housekeeper to help Julian to the bedroom.

Now it was just me and Vanessa in the living room. I placed the documents I had already prepared in front of her.

"I know what you want. If you can get him to sign this without him knowing, the title of Mrs. Blackwood is yours."

She looked at the *Divorce Agreement*, her eyes filled with conflict, but in the end, she took it.

The next morning, Julian woke up rubbing his throbbing temples. His first words were an accusation. "Yesterday you didn't give Vanessa a hard time, did you?"

I looked at his face, which held not a shred of concern for me, and spoke calmly, "Julian, you once said you would never let me spend an anniversary alone."

He stiffened, looking away with a hint of guilt. "Yesterday was an exception Whatever you want as compensation, I'll give it to you."

"What if I said I want a divorce?"

His face changed instantly, turning dark and stormy. "Scarlett, don't say such stupid things again! I'll pretend I didn't hear you."

He grabbed his jacket and practically fled. Before leaving, he transferred a huge sum of money to my account, telling me to buy myself something nice.

Less than an hour later, I received a FedEx package.

I opened it. It was the divorce agreement, sent back by Vanessa.

On the final page, on the line for the second party's signature, "Julian Blackwood" was scrawled in his bold, familiar handwriting.

5.

I was folding my last Burberry trench coat into my suitcase when the bedroom door slammed open with a deafening bang that made my heart jump.

Julian stormed in like a tornado, his eyes bloodshot, radiating a terrifying rage. He rushed toward me and seized my wrist, his grip so tight I thought he would crush the bone.

"Scarlett! I told you, there's nothing between me and Vanessa! She lost a child because of us, that's why she's in this mess. Can't you just leave her the hell alone?!" he roared, each word seeming to be squeezed from between his teeth.

He yanked me so hard I stumbled, a sharp pain shooting through my wrist that made my face go white. "Julian! Let go! You're hurting me!"

My cry of pain only seemed to infuriate him more. He glared at me, his eyes filled with undisguised disgust and exhaustion. "Playing the victim again? This is exactly how you acted when I was trying to win you back! I thought it was cute then, so I played along! But now? I'm sick of your games!"

He shoved me backward violently. My back hit the cold wardrobe with a dull thud.

"How did you become like this? Have I been too lenient with you, turning you so cold-blooded and ruthless?!" He loomed over me, his chest heaving. "Do you have any idea what Vanessa went through last night?! Someone broke into her apartment! She fought back and got hurt all over! Now she screams whenever she sees anyone, she's about to have a breakdown!"

I leaned against the wardrobe, rubbing my aching wrist, listening to his accusations one by one, my heart sinking into an icy abyss. So this is what he thought of me now.

"It wasn't me." I lifted my head, looking straight into his blazing eyes. My voice was hoarse from the struggle, but crystal clear.

"Who else could it be?!" He didn't believe me for a second, cutting me off with a voice full of scorn. "Who else hates her this much? Scarlett, just because I forgot our anniversary, just because I didn't buy you a gift, you resort to such a vicious tactic?!"

"I said it wasn't me!" I raised my voice, the suppressed anger and grievance churning inside me.

"Enough!" Julian yelled, clearly having lost all patience. He made a decision. "Since you can't stand her, since you're so damn jealous of her, then you can go and experience what her life was like!"

A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. "What do you mean?"

"Starting today, you move out. Move into the place she used to live! Live like her! That cramped, damp basement in Queens. Eat the cheap takeout she could barely afford. Work multiple jobs just like she did. Go and experience what real hardship tastes like!" His tone was frigid, absolute.

"Are you insane? I refuse!" I couldn't believe he would make such a ridiculous and cruel demand.

"Refuse?" Julian sneered, his eyes like shards of ice. "Scarlett, do you really think you have a choice?"

He gave me no more chance to argue. He grabbed my arm and dragged me brutally out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and shoved me into his car. I fought back, but he was unmoved.

The car finally stopped in front of that dilapidated apartment building. He pulled me out and pushed me into the filthy room, where even the lock was broken. The floor showed signs of a struggle and scattered drops of blood, and the air was thick with a sense of menace.

I looked at the unlivable space and tried to reason with him. "Julian, the door is broken. How am I supposed to"

"What's wrong? Our esteemed Mrs. Blackwood can't handle it already?" he cut me off mockingly, his expression unyielding. "Vanessa lived here. Why can't you? Tomorrow morning, I'll be here to take you to work."

With that, he turned and left without a second thought. The roar of his engine faded into the distance, leaving me alone in this dangerous, chaotic space.

It wasn't that I didn't try to run.

Once, while taking out the trash in the back alley, I saw my chance and bolted for the exit. But I didn't get far before two bodyguards in black suits appeared out of nowhere and blocked my path.

As night fell, a cold wind howled through the cracks in the broken door. I used all my strength to drag the only heavy piece of furniture in the room, a cabinet, and barricaded the rickety door with it.

Outside, I could hear the shouts of drunks and the angry curses of neighbors. Every sound made me jump. I huddled in a chair in the farthest corner of the room, clutching a fruit knife I had found in the kitchen. The cold handle dug painfully into my palm.

I stayed like that all night, my eyes wide open, listening to every noise from outside, on high alert for any potential danger. I didn't sleep a wink.

6.

The terrifying sounds from outside finally began to fade as a pale gray light seeped through the dirty window.

My nerves, stretched taut all night, finally loosened a bit. A wave of exhaustion washed over me, so immense it almost drowned me. I slid down the cold wall to the floor, thinking maybe I could just close my eyes, even for five minutes

*BANG! BANG! BANG!*

The violent pounding on the door was like a clap of thunder, jolting my nerves again, making my heart stop for a second.

"Scarlett! Get the hell out here! It's time for work!" It was Julian's voice, cold and inhuman, piercing through the rotten wood of the door.

My body felt drained of all strength; even lifting a finger was a struggle. My throat was too dry to make a sound, not that I wanted to.

Silence for a few seconds, then a much heavier impact.

*CRASH!*

The already flimsy lock gave way with a loud crack. The door was kicked open, shoving the cabinet Id placed behind it aside. Julian stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the harsh light, flanked by his two bodyguards like some kind of demon.

I couldn't see his expression against the light, but I could feel his gaze on me, cold and appraising, like he was inspecting a piece of property.

He strode into the room, grabbed my arm, and mercilessly hauled me up from the floor. The rough movement sent a jolt of pain through my back, which I had bruised against the wardrobe the night before.

"Look at the state of you," he sneered, his eyes sweeping over my disheveled clothes and the exhausted, haggard look on my face after a sleepless night. "Couldn't even last one night? Vanessa struggled in this hellhole for a whole year."

The pain and humiliation made my stomach churn. I lifted my head, forced a cold smile, and my voice came out hoarse but clear, "Julian, was I the one who put her here?"

His brow furrowed.

I continued, each word like a frozen nail, "You keep saying 'because of us.' But it was you who slept with her! It was you who blacklisted her and made it impossible for her to find a decent job! I had just broken up with you then, and I even told you not to be so ruthless. Did you listen?!"

I stared at his face, watching it change. "Now, why are you blaming all of this on me? Why should I have to pay for your guilt and her misfortune?!"

"Scarlett!" he roared like a cornered animal, his eyes flashing with the fury of someone whose lies had been exposed. He squeezed my arm tighter, almost to the breaking point. "You always think you're right. But don't forgetDthis time, you were the one who hurt her!"

No matter how many times I told him it wasn't me, that I had nothing to do with it, Julian wouldn't listen. He was stubbornly determined to make me atone.

I laughed coldly to myself. The divorce agreement, signed by his own hand, was safe in my purse. But I couldn't tell him now, absolutely not.

In his current unhinged state, if he found out we were already divorced, especially if he found out I was pregnant, he would never let me go. He would only find more extreme ways to trap me.

He dragged me roughly outside, my other hand secretly moving to my stomach. It was still flat, but it held all of my fear and worry. *Baby, just hold on a little longer. Mommy will get you out of here.*

I was shoved into a car and taken to the restaurant where Vanessa used to work. The next few days were a nightmare I couldn't wake from.

I was forced to do all the jobs Vanessa had described: washing mountains of dishes in the greasy, chemical-smelling kitchen until my hands were raw and peeling from the harsh detergent; carrying heavy trays through the bustling dining room, being barked at by impatient customers until my legs were swollen and aching; and working the night shift at a convenience store, stocking shelves and dealing with all sorts of night owls, forcing myself to stay awake.

I tried my best to avoid any heavy lifting, but whenever I slowed down, I would feel the cold, watchful eyes of the supervisor on me.

A few days later, Julian's car appeared silently in front of me.

He rolled down the window and looked at my exhausted, disheveled state. There was no pity in his eyes, only a cruel scrutiny. "Had enough, Mrs. Blackwood? It's only been a few days."

He leaned forward slightly, his tone like he was offering charity. "Want it to end? It's simple. Go apologize to Vanessa. Admit you were wrong. And we can go home right now."

In just a few short days, I had lost a noticeable amount of weight. My clothes, once perfectly fitted, now hung loosely on my frame. My face was sallow from malnutrition, and the dark circles under my eyes were stark. The physical exhaustion and mental stress were like two mountains crushing me.

But I touched my stomach, feeling the faint but steady presence there, and told myself I had to hold on.

The exhaustion and the nagging discomfort in my belly were like cold vines, tightening their grip on me every day. I knew if I kept this up, I could really lose this baby.

"Fine," I said, forcing myself to stand up straight. "I'll apologize."

7.

The tight frown on Julian's face instantly smoothed out, as if he'd solved a massive problem. He reached out to take my hand, but I stepped aside to avoid his touch. He didn't seem to mind, his voice even taking on a rare gentleness. "See? Wouldn't it have been easier to just do this from the start? Let's go. We're going home."

The word "home" sounded like a bitter joke.

Stepping back into that familiar apartment felt like entering another world. After just a few days, Vanessa looked radiant. She was well-rested, her cheeks rosy, and she was dressed in a soft Loro Piana loungewear set. She exuded the glow of someone who was being utterly pampered.

I, on the other hand, was painfully thin, my skin sallow, and I still carried the lingering smell of grease and cheap disinfectant from the restaurant. Standing next to each other, we looked like we were from two different universes.

When Vanessa saw me, she first froze, then her eyes quickly welled up, her lips trembling as if she had been deeply wronged.

Julian immediately rushed to her side, gently pulling her into his arms and comforting her. "It's okay, Vanessa. Don't be afraid. She's just here to apologize."

My heart was a frozen lake, utterly still and dead. I walked forward and stopped a few feet away from them. I lowered my eyes, my voice flat and devoid of any emotion. "Vanessa, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those cruel things to you. I shouldn't have hit you."

Vanessa buried her face in Julian's chest, sobbing quietly, and didn't respond.

Julian patted her back gently, then his gaze shifted to me, his tone commanding. "What else? What about sending people to harass and hurt her? Apologize for that, too."

I lowered my head again, hiding all the emotion in my eyes, and squeezed the words out from between my teeth. "I'm very sorry, Vanessa for the fear and pain you went through. I apologize."

Julian was finally satisfied. He waved his hand dismissively, like shooing away an irrelevant servant. "Go upstairs. Take a shower. Clean yourself up. Look at the state you're in." After that, he didn't look at me again, turning his full attention to cooing at Vanessa, asking her what she wanted for dinner.

I stood there, watching him cradle her like a precious treasure, a faint, cold smile slowly forming on my lips.

I didn't go upstairs.

While everyone's attention was on Vanessa, I slowly, silently, backed away toward the entrance hall. There was a pair of flat shoes in the closet that I hadn't worn in a long time. I slipped them on, then, without a moment's hesitation, I pulled open the heavy, ornate wooden door.

Outside, a black Rolls-Royce was already waiting, its sleek body gleaming in the evening sun.

I didn't look back. I just opened the car door and got in. The moment the door closed, it shut out the place I once called home, and with it, that suffocating relationship.

The car pulled away smoothly, leaving the apartment, Julian, and all the ugly memories far behind me.