In the sterile sanatorium room, a news report flickered on the television.
An international flight had lost contact after takeoff, plunging into the ocean and leaving no survivors.
Foster's face remained cold as he switched off the TV and flung the remote onto the bedside table, his piercing gaze landing on Sienna's silent form.
"Why refuse treatment?"
She didn't respond, her vacant stare glued to the dead screen.
"I don't need it."
His brows knitted together, voice sharp as a blade. "You're getting treatment. And you're having this baby."
Sienna slowly turned, a bitter laugh escaping her cracked lips.
"Have it?"
"Foster, you forced me to carry a fatherless bastard just to humiliate me. Wasn't that enough? Now you want me to birth it? To spend my life branded by those monsters who
