I Did 99 IVFs, He Crashed His Sister-In-Law’s Wedding

Chapter 7

Gabe furrowed his brows. He had fully expected Clara to throw a huge, screaming, dramatic fit. Instead, she had agreed without a single fight. That took him completely off guard.

He agreed to the arrangement, and Clara did not put up a fuss at all.

She moved like an empty shell, drained of every ounce of life within her. Carrying her baby’s ashes cupped gently in her hands, she prepared a memorial shrine for the little one in the family’s private chapel. With an unsettling, eerie calm, she lit three candles before the shrine, then turned and walked away without uttering a single word.

When she returned, Gabe's voice came out low and gravelly. "Come with me to the family estate."

Clara said nothing. She just trailed silently behind his broad back, step for step.

Inside the Sterling family estate, Gabe opened the massive, leather-bound Family Bible, the sacred record that had preserved the lineage, history, and birthrights of every family member for generations.

Clara’s eyes locked instantly on the line directly beneath her own. It had been left blank, deliberately reserved for her child, the exact spot where her son’s name should have been entered as the rightful heir.

But the man standing beside her did not hesitate for a single moment. He picked up a fountain pen and carefully struck through the reserved space, blotting it out as if that place had never been meant for anyone at all.

Then, right there in that very spot meant for her flesh and blood, he inscribed the name of another woman’s child.

Clara could not tear her gaze away from those word. The ink was still fresh, glinting stark and bright under the wavering candlelight.

Leo.

Leo, meaning peace and safety.

Her baby had never even gotten a name before he turned to nothing but a handful of ash.

A devastating, sharp ache surged straight up into Clara's nose, and hot, stinging moisture pooled uncontrollably behind her eyelids.

When the whole process was done, Gabe closed the family bibe. His tone was as flat and casual as if he were just assigning a routine household chore.

"Rose's position is awkward right now. Hiring an outside maid would only spark gossip. Starting today, you'll be in charge of taking care of her daily needs until she gives birth safely." He flicked a glance at her face, paused, and added, "If there's anything you want, you can ask me for it..."

"Okay."

Gabe blinked, caught off guard as he looked at her. He had braced for screaming, for defiance, for any sort of fight. None of it came. Her obedience was almost unnatural.

In the days that followed, Clara sanded down every last sharp edge she had ever had. She even took every deliberate insult and attack Rose threw at her without a single word of complaint.

When Rose pretended her morning sickness had made her lose her grip and flipped a bowl of scalding hot soup all over Clara's body, Clara just bit back the scream burning her throat. She let the blistering skin burn and cleaned every drop of the mess-up slowly, piece by piece.

When Rose would feign shortness of breath in the dead of night, she would demand Clara stay awake and kneel beside her bed, tending to her every need without rest. And so Clara knelt there, night after endless night, enduring every demand without a single word of protest or complaint.

When Rose pulled out some old folk remedy that claimed to restore vitality, saying it needed human blood as a key ingredient, Clara just let Gabe's bodyguards slice open her artery over and over again to drain the blood out, with no fight left in her.

And Gabe saw all of it, every single moment.

The once proud, fierce, untameable Miss Hart, it seemed, had really had her spine broken inch by inch under one crushing blow after another. She had fallen all the way into the dirt, and she was not getting back up.

As the seasons turned and year melted into year, the pomegranate tree in the courtyard bloomed and bore fruit over and over.

Outside the delivery room, Clara stood quietly and still. A few feet away, Gabe sat on a bench, a cigarette clamped between his fingers that had gone untouched for ages. His gaze kept drifting back to Clara, over and over.

She was far too quiet. Unnervingly quiet.

That eerie stillness jabbed straight into Gabe's chest like a sharp, splintered thorn. The unease gnawing at him coiled and grew wild, just like ivy creeping to choke everything in its path.

Right then, a loud, clear baby's cry burst out from inside the delivery room, ripping through the tense, heavy silence of the hallway.

A nurse stepped out, a swaddled bundle held in her arms, and her face split into a wide, joyful grin. "Mr. Sterling! Congratulations! It's a boy! Both mom and baby are doing great!"

Gabe shot to his feet. Uncontrollable excitement and delight blazed in his eyes, bright as wildfire.

He hurried into the delivery room, bent low, and pressed a kiss to Rose's sweat-damp cheek without a shred of hesitation. His voice was softer than it had ever been, warm and tender, "Rose, you did so well. We finally have our son."

Rose leaned weakly against his chest, nodding, her whole face glowing with giddy happiness.

Clara lingered in the doorway, watching the sweet scene unfold without a sound.

A harsh, searing flicker flashed through her blank, empty eyes, gone so fast no one could even catch a trace of it.