Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The news about my mother came late one night.

I'd hired 24-hour caregivers for my parents. Worried about emergencies, I'd stopped putting my phone on silent.

The ringtone had barely rung for three seconds when Daniel—faster than me—got up, grabbed my phone from the nightstand, and answered it.

"Miss White, something terrible has happened—"

I jolted awake. Daniel's eyes, still hazy with sleep, showed a hint of confusion, but he quickly snapped out of it. He patted my shoulder to comfort me, saying, "Don't worry."

By the time we got to the hospital, my mother was already in the emergency room.

The caregiver told us that for some unknown reason, the power in my mother's room had suddenly cut out. By the time the backup power came on, my mother's monitor had started beeping frantically—her heartbeat and breathing were gone.

My belly was getting bigger, and I could barely even squat down. If Daniel hadn't been holding me up, I would have collapsed right there.

But all my prayers and pleas didn't move God. We waited for what felt like an eternity before the "Emergency" light above the operating room went out. The doctor walked out, took off his mask, and shook his head helplessly.

I couldn't hear what he said. I couldn't even cry out loud.

"Please accept my condolences," the doctor said.

My mother was wheeled out covered in a white sheet. Daniel held me tightly to stop me from rushing over. My vision went black, and I fainted.

When I woke up again, Daniel was lying beside my bed, fast asleep. A few gray hairs stood out among his messy locks. I suddenly realized—he was only 29 years old.

I couldn't help but reach out and touch his head. But he was such a light sleeper—he woke up the second my hand brushed his hair.

His beautiful, peach-shaped eyes were bloodshot, and his eye sockets were red with exhaustion.

I'd never seen Daniel look so unkempt before.

"You're awake?" He took a cotton swab, dampened it with water, and gently moistened my lips. "Do you want some water?"

I suddenly remembered something. I placed my hand on my swollen belly, making sure the baby was still there, before letting out a sigh of relief. I nodded at him.

I'd been unconscious for two days, and Daniel had stayed by my side the entire time.

He held my hand and talked to me about everything—from the arrangements for my mother's funeral to where my father would live, and even about the baby I'd almost lost. The evening sun shone behind him, as if wrapping him in a layer of light, making him look so gentle.

But my mind was still in a mess. I tuned out most of what he said.

He didn't say a word about the cause of my mother's accident—as if he was deliberately avoiding the topic.

I blinked my tired eyes, my gaze falling on my swollen belly. I placed my hand on it and suddenly interrupted his rambling: "Daniel Song, the baby just kicked me. Feel it."

Daniel froze for a moment, then carefully placed his hand on my belly. As if sensing his touch, the baby kicked with its little foot, making a small bump on my round stomach.

I smiled wider. "Aren't you going to let Daddy feel you?" I cooed.

"Eva, are you hungry?" Daniel asked, quickly moving his hand away as if afraid he'd hurt the baby.

I shook my head. "If there was no baby... or if we'd lost this baby, would you still have divorced me?" I asked.

"Why would you think that?" he replied.

I laughed. "But if there was no baby, you would have already divorced me, wouldn't you?"

He pressed his lips tightly together and said nothing.

"Daniel Song, let's get a divorce. I don't want anything—I'll leave with nothing," I said.

"Eva..."

"Daniel Song, do you know what I've been thinking about these past few days?" I continued. "I've been trying to figure out why you wanted a divorce. And now I get it. Daniel Song—we're just not meant to be anymore, right? I shouldn't stop you from choosing someone better, someone more suitable for you..."

"I'm willing to have the baby. You can have custody. I only have one request: take care of my father for me."

I was so weak from crying that my face felt numb. I spoke in broken sentences, but Daniel kept holding my hand tightly, refusing to let go.

His eyes were red. He freed one hand to wipe my tears, but they just kept coming. In a voice that sounded almost like a plea, he repeated over and over: "Don't leave me. Don't get a divorce."

But I no longer had the energy to figure out whether Daniel loved me or not. Just being in this place, being with him, made me think of the night my mother was wheeled out covered in a white sheet—the moment that had suffocated me with grief.

The day after my mother's funeral, Daniel and I went to sign the divorce papers.

As agreed, I continued to live in the river-view villa until the baby was born. Daniel hired a nanny to take care of me, then moved out himself.

We saw each other about once a month—he said he wanted to go to my prenatal check-ups with me. I didn't refuse; after all, it was his baby too.

When the baby was seven months old, Daniel's company went public. News that he had donated 210 million yuan to poor students in remote areas in my name made headlines everywhere.

During an interview with the media, he said: "I hope journalists will stop making up rumors about my love life from now on. I'm married, and I love my wife very much."

The news that Daniel was married caused another sensation. Everyone was guessing who his wife was.

I closed my laptop with a blank expression, not wanting to read any more. I looked out the window at the flowers and grass, my heart filled with mixed emotions.

At the last prenatal check-up, the doctor patiently told us about the baby's condition and discussed the details of the delivery with us. Daniel listened more carefully than I did. After the doctor finished speaking, he asked if we had any questions.

I shook my head and looked at the 4D ultrasound photo. The baby had been very cooperative, and the photo was clear. Its nose and mouth looked just like Daniel's—slightly pursed, with a faint frown, as if deep in thought.

You little rascal, what could you possibly be worrying about at such a young age?

"Daniel Song, I'm tired. I want to go back and rest," I said, tearing my eyes away from the photo. I reached out to grab the table to stand up. Daniel hurried over to help me, replying, "Okay."

My belly was so big that I needed someone to help me walk, and I moved very slowly. Daniel patiently walked with me, taking ten minutes to cover a distance of just a few hundred meters.

We didn't expect to run into Maggie Jiang in the parking lot.

She wore huge sunglasses that covered most of her face and stood next to Daniel's car. In her ten-centimeter stiletto heels, she was almost a head taller than me—exuding confidence and power.

"Daniel," she called out.

"What are you doing here?" he asked coldly.

She took off her sunglasses, revealing a face perfectly made up—elegant and beautiful. A smile tugged at her bright red lips, and her eyes, full of charm, looked at us with a meaningful glint.

She turned to me, studying my belly carefully. "You're about to give birth, aren't you? What a shame your mother won't get to see it," she said.

My heart twinged with pain, but I forced myself to stay strong. "Do you have something to say to me?" I asked.

"I can never get in touch with Daniel, so I had to come here to see what he's been busy with. I miss him so much," she said.

"We're already divorced. If you still can't get him after all this, are you even trying?" I shot back.

Her smile froze for a second. A flash of venom crossed her eyes, but she quickly smoothed it over. She pulled an envelope out of her bag and held it out to me: "A gift for you. I hope your delivery goes smoothly."

Before I could take it, Daniel snatched it out of her hand. His eyes were filled with undisguised annoyance and anger. "Ms. Jiang, you've always prided yourself on being a decent person. Don't you think these cheap tricks are beneath you?" he said.

Maggie shrugged, put her sunglasses back on, and pressed the button on her car key. The lights of a Porsche next to her flashed on, lighting up the dim parking lot.

Before getting in the car, she said: "I waited in line, you know. But I realized—waiting doesn't work. Everything depends on taking action."

I didn't think much of her words, assuming she was still the same straightforward, take-it-or-leave-it Maggie she'd been back in college.

That night, I received an email with a video attached. It was then that I realized what Maggie had been planning to put in that envelope that afternoon.

Inside the envelope was a USB drive containing the surveillance footage from outside my mother's hospital room.

The video was short—only a minute or so—but it clearly showed a masked person sneaking into the room and cutting off the power.

But when I'd first woken up, Daniel had told me that the surveillance camera had just happened to be broken. He said they weren't sure if anyone had tampered with it and that the police had been called.

For nearly three months, there had been no progress. Every time I called the police to ask about the case, the answer was always the same: "The investigation is still ongoing."

A sharp pain shot through my stomach, wave after wave of agony overwhelming me. I weakly called for the live-in nanny, who was cleaning the kitchen. She didn't hear me until I knocked over a water glass, making a loud noise.

My delivery wasn't smooth. It was a month before my due date, and the shock had made my emotions fluctuate violently. By the time I was taken to the hospital, I had no strength left.

Staring up at the bright operating lights above me, there were moments when I thought I wouldn't make it through.

"Mother and baby are safe. The baby weighs 2.2 kilograms and will be taken to the incubator right away. Do you want to see your baby?" the nurse said.

"What about my wife?" Daniel asked, frantic. He didn't even glance at the baby wrapped in a blanket.

"She's under anesthesia. She'll probably wake up in a little while," the nurse replied.

Daniel nodded in a daze, muttering: "Thank you."