Fallen Leaves And Faded Love

Chapter 4 Being Forced to Drink

The door burst open. Amber strode in, a cold smirk on her face.

"This is my room. Can't you even knock?" Susan snapped.

Amber rested a hand lightly on her belly, gazing at Susan with smug satisfaction. "Not for long. I'm pregnant."

Susan froze, the pen clattering to the floor.

Amber stepped closer, eyes darting to the divorce papers. "Smart move. Why don't you give it to Jensen?"

Susan remembered years ago, when she had joked about divorce. Jensen had punched a wall, snarling, "Say that again, and I'll give you my life to make it right!"

She doubted he would care now.

"Afraid he won't sign?" Amber chuckled, grabbing the papers. "I'll get his signature. In return, you move to the guest room tonight."

Susan nodded numbly.

Ten minutes later, Amber tossed the signed agreement on the bed. Jensen's signature was bold and unhesitant.

Susan took the paper, her hands trembling. She grabbed her things and walked to the guest room without a word.

Early the next morning, Susan made breakfast out of habit.

Ethan walked out holding Amber's hand, glanced at the table, and turned up his nose in disgust.

"Amber, I want pancakes from the street stall! I've never even tasted one!"

His intimacy with Amber nearly made Susan's legs buckle.

She opened her mouth to warn him—his stomach was too sensitive for street food—but Jensen appeared first.

He didn't glance at Susan or the breakfast she had made. "Let's go. We'll get you pancakes."

At the door, Amber straightened his tie. He tilted his head for her to adjust it, and Susan saw the vivid red marks on his neck, clear as day.

The door clicked shut.

Susan stared at the warm, untouched breakfast, tears streaming silently down her face.

For the next week, she lived like a ghost in her own home. Every night, she heard Amber's muffled noises from the master bedroom. Ethan refused her cooking, rejected her offers to walk him to school, and snapped, "I don't need your help" whenever she tried to tutor him. Each day, she could only steal a quick glance at him in the early morning and at dusk.

Jensen never asked why she had moved, but sent expensive gifts every day. They piled up in the corner, untouched.

On the eighth night, his driver took her to a private hotel dining room.

At the table sat Kennen Wyatt—a ruthless tycoon famous for forcing others to drink.

"Why am I here?" Susan's chest tightened with dread.

Jensen pulled her aside, voice low. "Amber's unwell. You'll drink for her. I need this deal."

Susan pressed a hand to her belly. "I can't drink. I'm two months pregnant now, Jensen!"

Jensen paused, then scoffed in disbelief. "I used protection that time. Since when did you start lying about being pregnant? If you refuse, you'll never see Ethan again."

He didn't believe her, and he was threatening her son.

He pushed her into the seat beside Kennen. Glasses of liquor kept appearing, with no food in sight.

Her throat burned, nausea rolling in waves. Between toasts, Jensen peeled shrimp and cut steak for Amber, fawning over her.

Susan's eyes blurred as she stared at the mountain of food piled before Amber, then at her own empty plate and the full, untouched glass of liquor.

Those small, gentle gestures used to be hers.

Now he doted on the pregnant Amber, refusing to believe Susan was carrying his child too.

A violent wave of nausea hit her. She stumbled to the restroom and threw up relentlessly.

Jensen followed, frowning. "What's wrong?"

Susan showed him her prenatal test results. "I'm really pregnant. Take me home."

Color drained from his face. He reached for her. "I'll take you right now."

Just then, Amber appeared, clutching her belly and whimpering. "My stomach hurts…"

Jensen's grip on Susan's arm loosened, finger by finger.

"Susan, take a cab. I need to take Amber to the hospital."

He left without a backward glance, supporting Amber.

Susan stood alone in the hallway, pressing her cold hand to her belly, her voice shaking. "Baby… you came at the worst possible time. But I'll protect you, okay?"