"I didn't see it, but she came out covered in blood! So many people saw!"

"Grace Gordon, you grew up with us—you know what kind of person Lily is, don't you?" Frederick Fairfax reached behind him, gently clasping Olivia Young's soft hand. "It wasn't my wife who pushed your stand-in crush!"

"How do you know she was pushed?"

Grace Gordon's face was drawn, the veins in his eyes shot through with red. But his gaze burned with rage.

Olivia Young answered, "Because I said so. There was a third person in there at the time."

"Really?"

"If you don't believe me, investigate. If you’re going to blame me, show me evidence—or wait until Annabelle Winters wakes up and ask her yourself. They know each other, after all." Olivia Young tugged at Frederick Fairfax, signaling to leave.

Running into Grace Gordon right outside—what rotten luck. She would've rather stayed in the hospital room.

Grace Gordon lingered in the hallway a few minutes longer before heading back inside.

Annabelle Winters had woken up.

Her eyes were empty, lost, fixed on the ceiling.

"Executive Assistant An."

The moment she heard his voice, tears slipped from the corners of Annabelle Winters's eyes.

"Did you see the baby? He said goodbye to me. I’m sorry. I couldn’t keep him…"

"Baby, baby… My baby…"

Annabelle Winters caressed her now-flat belly. From the moment she found out she was pregnant to when she lost it—it was barely a week.

Her child was gone.

Just like that—gone.

She'd failed. She couldn’t even protect her own child.

Grace Gordon sat at her bedside and took her hand. "Try to calm down."

"I, I…"

"Sob… sob…"

Annabelle Winters wept as if her heart were breaking. "Mr. Gordon, I took the pills—I don’t know why I got pregnant… I was too scared to tell you…"

"Our baby is gone…"

Grace Gordon gently wiped her tears.

Annabelle Winters was completely shattered. This wasn’t the time for talk.

A long while later, she finally composed herself a bit.

Her eyes were puffy and red, as if a piece of her had been ripped away.

She took a few sips of water. "I kept thinking… should I tell you? I didn’t dare. I didn’t know what to do. I even chatted with Miss Young about it…"

"So she knew you carried my child?" Grace Gordon recalled the chill in Olivia Young’s eyes before. It made his head ache.

Annabelle Winters whispered, "She knew."

"Last night, in the restroom, you and her—"

Annabelle Winters shook her head quickly. "No, it wasn’t her!"

Some tension left Grace Gordon’s face. Lily wasn’t the killer. She was still the gentle Olivia Young she’d always been.

Annabelle Winters peered at him and said in a whisper, "It was Fiona Fang."

Fiona Fang—the business partner’s daughter. They’d had dinner together not long ago. She knew Annabelle Winters was Grace Gordon’s secretary—and that, to Grace Gordon, Annabelle Winters was just a stand-in.

In the restroom, while Annabelle Winters was vomiting, Fiona Fang overheard and started spouting vile insults, accusing her of sleeping around, saying the baby wasn't legitimate.

Annabelle Winters couldn’t hold back. They argued. Suddenly Fiona Fang shoved her, ramming her stomach into the sink.

She began bleeding on the spot.

A baby barely a month along is just too fragile.

"I see."

Grace Gordon pulled up her covers. "Get some rest."

"You’re leaving?"

"I need to take care of something. I’ll have someone come look after you."

"No, there’s no need…" Annabelle Winters bit her lip. "I’ll check out soon."

She didn’t want to stay in the hospital. She felt somewhat better physically, but inside, her heart still ached.

Still, Grace Gordon didn’t leave. He stayed through her discharge, sent her back to her rental apartment along with the driver, and only then did he go.

Meanwhile, both Frederick Fairfax and Olivia Young received the security footage from that day.

Fiona Fang entered the restroom first, then Olivia Young, then Annabelle Winters.

Naturally, there were no cameras inside the restroom. But afterward, Fiona Fang mingled with the crowd, face anxious and guilty—she couldn’t have made herself look more suspicious.

"Her family says she’s already gone abroad," Frederick Fairfax reported from his perch at the edge of the hospital bed, paring an apple. "Fled the country to avoid trouble."

"How convenient."

"Who?"

"The Plot God!*" (Plot God—an in-joke for characters aware they’re being controlled by the story.)

Maybe Fiona Fang liked Grace Gordon, or maybe she was just forcibly pulled into the main plot as the evil supporting female by the Plot God.

In their world, the entire novel revolved around the leads. The rest of them were just props for the hero and heroine to play with.

Frederick Fairfax held out a slice of apple. Olivia Young took a fierce bite. "Why can’t you be the male lead for once?"

"What are you talking about? I’m always the male lead in every show I’m in!"

But not in this novel, huh!

"Lily, if you want to audition to be my leading lady, you’ll have to try out. I think your acting is just so-so. Maybe I need to give you some lessons." Frederick Fairfax held another slice to her lips.

"No thanks."

"You said you wanted apples, so I peeled one, and you only ate a piece!"

"One piece is still eating. The rest is yours. My treat." Olivia Young smiled.

Women are impossible to please.

Frederick Fairfax munched down the rest of the apple. "Miss, so what do you want to do now?"

"Go home."

Before going home, Olivia Young wanted to visit Annabelle Winters—but Annabelle Winters had already been discharged.

What a stubborn heroine.

Old-school romance novels are always such sob stories! If you can put up with enough pain, there will always be more waiting for you.

Conquer one hardship and another looms just over the horizon.

Truly pitiful.

But what right did she have to pity the heroine? In the end, the heroine gets a happily ever after. As for her—her death would've crushed every bone, left her a pile of broken flesh.

All the way home, Olivia Young wore her sour mood for all to see.

"Sis!"

"Sis!"

"Sister, are you okay? Is the baby okay?"

Quentin Young had just returned. Hearing Olivia Young had been hospitalized twice, he skipped the family home and rushed straight here.

"The baby is fine. I’m the one who’s not doing so well."

Quentin Young’s heart ached with worry. He glared at Frederick Fairfax. "How could you be so careless! I cared for her a whole month and she was fine. You come home and she ends up in the hospital twice!"

Frederick Fairfax took this in, watching his wife being led away. "Is it possible my first day back was after her first hospital stay?"

"I don’t care! This is all your fault!"

"You’re even more unreasonable than your sister." Frederick Fairfax shoved his hands in his pockets. "No wonder you’re siblings. Exactly the same—exactly as hard to please."

He’d been running around for her nonstop at the hospital and now had to take lip from this kid.

Quentin Young, twenty-one years old, daring to lecture him. Who was the real older brother here?

"Don’t fight, you two. This was an accident. It’s no one’s fault." Olivia Young gently shrugged them both off. "Let me be alone for a bit."

"Sis, I’m worried. I don’t want you moping by yourself."

"I’m not alone. I’ve still got the baby in my belly. I’ve got company.~" Olivia Young patted her pregnant stomach. "If you two want to argue, do it far away from my room. Fight all you want, just don’t bother me."

Frederick Fairfax and Quentin Young watched her head upstairs and exchanged glances—each wishing to see the other a little bit less.