Chapter 4

"Why does it have to be mine?"

"She likes it."

"And you think that's fine?"

Adrian went quiet. "Yvonne, don't make an issue of it right now. She may not have long to live."

I laughed. "Back of the walk-in closet."

The relief in his voice was obvious. "I'll come pick you up tonight."

"Don't bother."

I dropped my hand to my stomach and rubbed it. "You don't need to return the gown either."

"Yvonne Carrigan."

His tone dropped cold. "Don't say things you don't mean."

I hung up. The ultrasound photo I'd meant to send him, I deleted along with the call.

The doctor recommended I be admitted. I refused.

By the time I got home, it was already dark, and every light in the living room was on.

A freshly printed photo leaned against the wall. Cecily in my wedding gown, Adrian standing beside her.

He'd probably only changed into a suit to cooperate with the photographer, but the photo came out looking exactly like a wedding portrait.

Cecily heard me and shot up off the couch. "Yvonne."

I saw the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.

My steps stopped.

She followed my gaze and hurried to pull it off. "The photographer said a bridal shot looks strange without a ring, so I just borrowed it for a bit."

I didn't argue. "It's yours."

Cecily froze.

Adrian came out of the kitchen too. "What did you say?"

"The ring. She can keep it."

His face went dark. "You can't just give away a wedding ring."

I looked at him.

"Wasn't it only for a bit? I said borrow. Well, now there's no need to borrow. I don't want it anymore."

He crossed over and grabbed my hand. "Yvonne, are you done? A nameplate, a gown, a ring. Do you have to turn every single thing into an ugly scene?"

I looked at him. "What scene am I making? I gave you all of it, didn't I?"

That stopped him.

Cecily's tears spilled over.

"It's all my fault. Adrian, don't fight with Yvonne."

She pushed the ring into my hand.

"I don't want it." I pulled away.

The motion was too fast, and pain twisted through my stomach again.

I frowned, and Adrian caught it.

His eyes dropped to my wrist, where the hospital band was still on. "You really did go to the hospital today?"

I made a small sound.

"What's wrong, exactly?" His tone changed at once.

For a moment, I really did want to take out the report.

When the first three babies were lost, he'd grieved too.

The first miscarriage, he stayed with me at the hospital the whole night.

The second, he watched over me for three days.

The third time we couldn't save the baby, he didn't bring up children again for a long time.

I even thought, maybe this time would be different.

My hand had just touched the test results in my bag when a dull thud came from behind me.

Cecily had collapsed to the floor.

"Cecily!"

Adrian let go of me almost instantly and turned to lift her up.

She curled into his chest, her face pale.

"Adrian, my chest hurts."

Adrian carried her straight for the door.

He only turned back at the threshold. "What were you about to tell me just now?"

My hand was still in my bag.

"Nothing."

"And the hospital?"

"Same old problem."

The relief was plain on his face. "Remember to take your medicine. I'm taking Cecily to the hospital. I'll be back late."

The door shut fast.

I stood there. It was a while before I took out the test results, folded them, and tucked them into the deepest corner of my suitcase.

Never mind. I wouldn't say it. I started packing.

Documents, bank cards, laptop, and three small boxes.

Each held the ultrasound scans left behind by the first three babies.

I put today's in with them. The fourth. It filled the box perfectly.

My phone lit up.

A system alert. Five days until the death program was complete.

I looked at it for a few seconds, then turned off the screen.

The next afternoon, an internal review kicked off at the company over the livestream incident.

Before I left, I needed to hand off permissions on a few key projects, and while I was at it, I pulled the backend logs.

That was when Cecily's account jumped out at me.

Seven years ago. I stared at the date twice.

It was the day I was first kidnapped. Back then she wasn't even an employee, yet she'd logged into the internal backend.

I opened the record. She'd checked only one thing. My itinerary.

That day I'd changed my route at the last minute, and the new route existed only in the backend.

Ten minutes later, she took a screenshot and sent it to a number. I copied the number out.

When the results came back, my fingers went stiff.