Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"We're here—fifty yuan!" the driver announced, stopping the meter and raising his voice to tell me.

My thoughts snapped back to the present. I pulled out a hundred-yuan bill and handed it to him: "Keep the change."

But as soon as I got out of the car, I saw a Maybach parked near the hospital entrance.

It was Daniel Song's.

He'd spent a fortune at an auction to get that license plate with consecutive identical numbers—flashy and expensive, just like him. I knew it all too well.

I turned and ran, but he honked the horn at me. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath through gritted teeth, then turned around and walked toward his car with a forced smile.

The window rolled down, and I heard my own overly obsequious voice: "Director Song, do you have any instructions?"

Daniel still wore his silver-rimmed glasses, looking like a refined scoundrel. He turned to me, a meaningful smile tugging at his lips, and his tone sounded almost teasing: "Mrs. Song, why didn't you answer my calls?"

Who's your wife?

I barely held back the urge to swear, keeping my fake, flattering smile intact as I replied, "My phone died."

"What are you doing at the hospital?" His eyes drifted to the bag in my hand. I instinctively clutched it tighter, feeling guilty. But it wasn't a transparent bag, and besides—what business was it of his what I did?

"Why did you come looking for me?" I changed the subject directly, forcing myself to stay calm.

Daniel got out of the car, opened the passenger door for me, and made a "please" gesture: "Grandpa asked us to go home for dinner."

So that's what this was about.

Naturally, I didn't want to get in. I turned my head to look at the green belt by the road: "He'll find out about our divorce sooner or later. How much longer do you want me to keep pretending with you?"

"I remember the agreement says you have to cooperate with me to deal with the family whenever needed," he reminded me.

"..."

It wasn't a holiday, but Grandpa had asked Linda Liu to cook a huge feast. When he saw us, he hurried over, beaming, and shouted toward the kitchen: "Sister Liu, Daniel and Eva are back! We can start dinner now!"

Linda Liu replied that the soup would be ready soon.

In the past, I was always the first to praise Linda Liu's cooking. But today, just the smell of meat made my stomach churn.

Before I even sat down, Grandpa reached out to put a piece of food in my bowl. I quickly said "Sorry" and ran to the bathroom, covering my mouth.

I hadn't eaten much all day, so I retched for a long time without bringing anything up. Staring at my pale face in the mirror, I felt dizzy and lightheaded.

Daniel had appeared out of nowhere and was standing at the door, staring at me. He startled me.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I ate something bad—that's why I went to the hospital today. Too bad you intercepted me on the way," I mumbled, too guilty to meet his eyes. I turned on the faucet to wash my hands, then splashed some water on my face to regain my composure.

I didn't know when it had started, but lying to Daniel now felt just like when I was a kid and told my teacher I hadn't done my homework because the power had gone out at home—terrified of being found out.

I laughed at my own cowardice. When I tried to walk out, I found Daniel still standing at the door, blocking my way completely.

I frowned: "What are you standing there for?"

"What did you eat that made you sick? I'll take you to the hospital for a proper check-up," he suggested.

My lips twitched, and I quickly refused: "Just some street food. It's nothing serious. I'll go by myself after dinner with Grandpa."

Daniel scoffed, lowering his eyes to study me as if trying to uncover some secret on my face.

We were standing too close. The cool, woody scent of his cologne filled my nose. I turned my face away to avoid his gaze, my eyebrows furrowing as another wave of nausea hit my stomach.

I tried to push him away, but he wouldn't budge. I snapped, "What are you staring at!"

He grabbed my wrist, pinned me against the wall, and held me tight so I couldn't move: "Eva White, are you hiding something from me?"

"What counts as something? I like watching a male model dance on Link Bar, and I used your card to tip all of them—does that count?" I shot back, putting on a brave front even though my heart was racing and his grip on my wrist was growing tighter, making it hurt.

Daniel's eyes turned dark and stormy as he stared at me—like a butcher eyeing a lamb on the chopping block.

"I'm asking—what kind of 'bad food' made you rush to two hospitals early this morning?" he pressed.

I couldn't help but curse Daniel for being creepy: How did he even know about something that small?

Daniel forced my head back to face him, then smoothed the furrow between my brows with his thumb. His voice was low and deep, laced with displeasure.

I was at a loss for words, so I gave up and told the truth: "I'm pregnant. It's yours—do you believe me?"

Daniel froze. A look of shock crossed his usually calm face. "How is that possible?" he asked, disbelieving.

I'd known he'd react this way, but hearing his words still made my heart ache—as if a cold wind had been blown into a gaping wound in my chest.

Tears blurred my vision instantly. I took a slow, shaky breath, forcing them back, then looked up at him and managed a smile uglier than a frown. My voice came out hoarse: "It doesn't matter. I wasn't going to keep the baby anyway, so you can rest easy."