Chapter 7
Stephen only remembered me because Joey said childbirth was painful–because she was in pain. And I, unlike her, wasn’t afraid of pain.
And I, unlike her, wasn’t afraid of pain.
He let go, defeated, his eyes blank and hollow like a stagnant pond.
Joey sneered, ripping away the last shred of his false mask. “Stephen, stop pretending. You’re the one who hated her for forcing you into marriage. You made her take birth control pills for three years. You lied to her about failed IVF while secretly implanting my embryos into her womb. You used her as my personal blood bank. Now she’s dead, and suddenly you want to play the grieving husband?”
Stephen’s head snapped up as the memories of the past three years rushed back–memories soaked in cruelty. He re- membered how he made me take so many contraceptives that it damaged my uterus, all while telling me the IVF failed. He remembered how he had drugged me during our honeymoon, then implanted Joey’s embryos into my body without my consent. He remembered adding hormones to the prenatal meds every day, and how he stood by while others ridiculed me as a “breeding sow,” as nothing more than a human incubator–and never once defended me.
The guilt, long overdue, surged like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him.
Only now did he understand what he had done to me all these years.
But feelings that come too late mean nothing.
From that moment on, Stephen fell into ruin.
He couldn’t accept that I was truly gone and hired people to search for me.
He even obtained the crash footage.
He only managed to watch half of it–he couldn’t bear to go on.
He began spending every day in my room, getting drunk, sometimes crying in the nursery over the things I had lov- ingly prepared for our nonexistent children.
Later, he started punishing himself, watching the crash footage over and over again- until he noticed something strange.
Stephen realized that I wasn’t dead. I had faked my death. The moment that realization hit, he went completely mad trying to find me.
A month later, he traced me to a new address and booked a flight immediately.
When Joey heard the news, she rushed to the airport to stop him.
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Chapter 7
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“Stephen, don’t go! I can give you everything you want! Didn’t the doctors say I’m getting better? Jessica faked her death and fled abroad–she doesn’t love you anymore! We can have kids after we get married. However many you want, I’ll give you. Stephen, please…”
But Stephen just brushed her hand away, his expression eerily calm.
“My wife is–and always will be–Jessica.”
Joey’s tears spilled over.
“Stephen, you loved me the most! You never even liked Jessica, so why?!”
“I was angry because she forced me into marriage. I misunderstood my own heart. But in my eyes, she was always Mrs. Delami.
“I’ll give you a large sum of money. After that, don’t ever show yourself in front of Jessica again.”
With that, Stephen gave Joey one last cold look and walked off without hesitation.
But this time, his journey was doomed to fail–because I had already returned to the States.
I knew he wouldn’t be deceived forever. I had never planned to hide forever either.
He was the one who committed the crimes. He was the one who owed repentance and remorse.
As for me I was only meant to begin a new life.
The next time I saw Stephen was at a banquet.
I arrived elegantly dressed, my hand resting on Matthew Simon’s arm. Many people who had known me before were stunned to see me.
And that’s when Stephen rushed toward me, eyes red, grabbing my wrist.
“Jessica, you’re really alive.”
He reached out to hug me, but before I could dodge, Matthew had already stepped in and kicked him away.
Matthew frowned. “Hey, didn’t you see that I’m standing right here? Touch her again with your filthy hands, and you’ll regret it.”
I could tell he was a little jealous, so I took his hand. Only then did he calm down.
And at that moment, I felt a quiet peace settle in my heart–his protection soothed me.
When I looked at Stephen again, there was nothing left in my eyes. No love. No hate. Just indifference.
He no longer had the power to affect me.
Stephen stared at our intertwined hands, and something flickered in his eyes like a blade of pain. He asked, like an ac- cusation, “Who is he?”
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Chapter 7
I answered calmly, “My fiancé.”
Matthew had loved me for ten years. But my heart had belonged to Stephen for just as long.
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