Chapter 2
681 Words
Whispers spread around me like a net, tightening bit by bit.
"Isn't that Sierra Cane, that famous landscape designer?" someone muttered.
"Yeah, the one trying to climb her way up. Didn't Mr. Quinn just say she's a colleague," another scoffed.
"Look at her face. Total bitter woman. Think she came here to stir up trouble," a third voice sneered.
Camera flashes kept going off. People were taking photos like I was some kind of exhibit.
Just like that, I became the homewrecker in their stories.
I tried to leave, but two bodyguards stepped in and blocked my way.
"Madam, Mr. Quinn asked us to take you to the company lounge," one of them said flatly.
"I'm not going…" I murmured, shaking my head.
His grip tightened. His hand pressed right near my wound.
Pain shot through me. My vision went black for a second. Cold sweat soaked through my back.
They did not care about my injury at all. They forced me into a business van like I had no say in it.
The car sped off. It finally stopped in front of the Quinn Group building.
It was the weekend. The whole place was empty and silent.
They took me up to the top floor, straight into the CEO's office.
"Mr. Quinn will be here later. Please calm down first," one of them said before leaving.
The lights flicked on.
I walked into the private lounge inside.
There were no business files here. Only a wall covered in photos.
Every inch of it was filled with pictures of that child.
The first one was an ultrasound image:
You are a gift from above. Welcome, my baby.
Back then, I was so scared of getting pregnant that I drank herbal medicine every day until I threw up. My body was a mess from it.
Next came the one-month photos, the hundred-day photos, the first birthday…
In every single picture, Lawrence smiled like the world revolved around that child.
My eyes stopped on a photo from yesterday.
In it, Lawrence wore a birthday hat. He stood beside Dean, helping him cut a cake.
And yesterday… was the day I lay on the operating table.
He told me he had a transnational meeting. He said his phone had to be off.
I signed the consent form alone. I faced the cold instruments alone. I endured the pain after surgery all by myself.
I thought this was love at its deepest.
Turns out, he was celebrating his illegitimate son's birthday.
My legs gave out. I slid down the wall and collapsed onto the carpet.
It felt like the wound in my abdomen had split open. The smell of blood filled the air.
I suddenly thought of that night five years ago.
Lawrence knelt in front of me. His eyes were bloodshot. He held a report that said he was infertile.
"Sierra, I'm useless. I can't give you a complete family. You should leave. I don't want to hold you back," he choked out.
My heart shattered on the spot.
I tore up that report. I hugged him tight and cried as I swore,
"I don't care about children. I only want you. Lawrence, it'll just be the two of us for life."
That night, we lost control like never before.
He was rough, almost desperate, like he wanted to crush me into his bones.
"Sierra, you're mine. You'll always be mine," he said, his voice low and fierce.
Now I knew.
That was not love.
That was him making sure that even after telling a lie big enough to cover the sky, I would still stay loyal like a fool.
I lowered my head and touched my flat stomach.
For a man full of lies, I turned myself into someone truly broken.
In the family photo on the wall, Lawrence held the child. Nora leaned against him, smiling bright and happy.
What a perfect little family.
So where did that leave me?
I could not help it. A laugh slipped out.
The more I laughed, the harder the tears fell, streaming down my face.
- Writer
