She Borrowed My Fiancé’s Sperm，So I Called Off the Wedding

Chapter 3

Eight days later, I was on the site shuttle to Brindlewood.

I entered the site with the assessment team for a follow‑up light pollution survey.

Iris handed me the tablet and said, "There's still a laser show planned for the observation deck, and the nighttime lighting violates three standards. What's more troublesome is that the investor wants the buffer zone boundary extended outward by two kilometers."

I flipped through the data and replied, "The buffer zone is non‑negotiable. All nighttime lighting must be redone."

Iris glanced at me and asked, "You know who the investor is, right?"

"I do."

I put the tablet down.

At the review meeting that afternoon, Oliver arrived.

Violet followed him. She rested a hand on her stomach and looked around before saying, "Layla, there's nothing special about this place. You can see stars in the city too."

No one in the meeting room said a word.

Oliver placed a document in front of me and said, "It's just a signature. Don't make things difficult for your own people."

I didn't even look at it. "The camp plan is rejected. High‑intensity landscape lighting is prohibited within the buffer zone, the laser show is canceled, and all light strips must be removed and replaced."

Oliver took out another document and said, "The proposed reviewer is my fiancée. She has been emotionally unstable recently; it is recommended that she be recused and another reviewer assigned."

Logan only glanced at it before pushing it back. "The applicant lacks standing. Layla is a member of the assessment team and is responsible solely for monitoring data."

Oliver's face darkened.

Late that night, the temperature plunged to more than ten degrees below zero.

The duty officer's anxious voice crackled over the walkie‑talkie. "A private car entered the restricted road in the observation zone and lost contact."

Iris looked at me. "Your legs..."

I fastened my knee brace, grabbed a GPS locator and satellite phone, and said, "I know that route. You contact the rescue team. I'll handle positioning and guidance only. I'm not going down the slope."

30 minutes later, we spotted headlights on the ridge above the gravel slope. It was Violet's car.

She had driven along the restricted route without permission to take maternity photos under the stars, and her wheels were stuck in a gravel ditch.

I relayed the coordinates to the rescue team first.

I called out, "Whoever is in the car, kill the engine immediately and evacuate to the safe zone on the left."

The window rolled down. Violet sat inside and said, "Layla, I only took a couple of steps. What's the rush?"

I said, "Kill the engine. Get out."

My tone was cold.

She pursed her lips and stomped the gas. The wheels kicked up gravel, and the whole car slid sideways.

Instinctively, I stepped forward to push the duty officer beside me out of the way.

The gravel underfoot gave way. I slid down the slope, my right leg slamming into a rock. The bone cracked.

I was trapped in an exposed wind gap. The cold cut through my trousers, and the injury quickly went numb.

40 minutes later, the rescue team arrived.

Oliver was the first to charge up the gravel slope, face pale, hands shaking.

He rushed over and knelt beside me. Looking at me, his voice shook as he asked, "Is the baby okay?"

I lay on the freezing ground, staring at him.

The wind around me seemed to fade into silence.

Back at the base hospital, the doctor put my leg in a cast.

The diagnosis read: Re‑fracture of the right tibia, with localized frostbite and soft‑tissue perfusion requiring further monitoring.

Oliver stuffed his hard‑shell jacket into my arms.

When the nurse came to start the IV, he held my wrist and said, "Look at me, not over there."

He peeled an apple and placed it in my hand before saying, "Now that your leg's hurt, maybe you'll stop obsessing over the mountain."

He added, "I'll reserve you an advisory position on the camp observation deck. It's just a title, but the pay is good."

Seven years ago, on that rainy night, the mountain road collapsed, and his car rolled over into a ditch.

I jumped down and dragged him out with both hands; crushed stones pinned my right leg.

He knelt by the hospital bed, his eyes so red he could barely open them, and said, "I'll look after you. Whatever mountain you want to climb, I'll be there with you."

Today, that same leg has become the grounds for his request to have me removed.

Oliver took an accident report out of his bag and said, "The report says you were the one who took her in there. She's from my company. If this is treated as a violation, the camp permit will be revoked."

He pushed the report toward me and said, "Sign it."

I looked at the report and said, "I won't."

Oliver said nothing. He took the pen from the bedside table and signed my name.

I pulled out my phone and recorded him.

"The first thing you asked just now was about the baby."

I stared at the ceiling, my voice barely a whisper.

Oliver's hand froze.

He looked up at me, as if only just realizing.

I closed my eyes.

'Oliver, this is the last time you'll ever sign my name for me.'