Cecilia Ye had no idea how to react to Fu Zhiyue's actions; all she felt was a ticklish prickle on her face. She was still lost in the words Su Ai had just said, her eyes dazed as she looked up at Fu Zhiyue.

Upstairs on the second floor, Fu Zhiyue gently placed Cecilia on the bed. From downstairs came Anke's voice, "Ah, Su Ai, what happened to you guys?" The commotion continued unabated.

Cecilia Ye looked up at him, her lashes trembling as she whispered, "Ask Anke and the others to go home first. Shut the door..."

Fu Zhiyue studied her worriedly and gave her a gentle hug. "Alright, I'll be right back." He reached to straighten her clothes before heading downstairs.

The people in the garden still hadn't left. If President Foster himself hadn't said anything, who would dare to go? Su Ai, her face bearing two red slap marks, was crying on her uncle's shoulder. He looked thoroughly annoyed—this time his troublesome niece might have landed them in serious trouble, and who knew what would happen next.

Anke and Zhou Ya stood nearby, baffled by everything. When Fu Zhiyue appeared, they called out, "Mr. Fu."

Fu Zhiyue simply nodded. At that moment, security arrived, accompanied by the head of the villa community.

The villa manager approached respectfully, head lowered. "President Foster, I'm terribly sorry. There were some of our residents mixed in with these people." He glanced at Su Ai’s uncle. "So we thought they were all his friends and didn't stop them at the gate."

Fu Zhiyue shot him a cold glare, his icy aura silencing the manager. With a hint of a bloodthirsty smile, he said, "You’ll be handled soon enough. My people will deal with it. For now, get out of here."

…

With Fu Zhiyue gone, the room fell quiet. Cecilia bent over, burying her face in her knees and hugging herself tightly.

She’d naively thought that everything was in the past. She remembered seeing that video once, but she had never known that the incident had become a trending topic—that so, so many people had seen it.

In the eyes of those who didn't know the truth, she was the shameless girl who stole Vivian Belle’s place. The substitute the Fu family picked up. The wife Fu Zhiyue had abandoned.

The most ridiculous part was that she remained oblivious, thinking she could start over from scratch.

A cramp twisted in her belly, then a wave of nausea. She climbed off the bed and went to the bathroom.

Leaning against the sink, the urge to vomit nagged at her, but nothing would come out. Cecilia took two deep breaths, forcing herself to look in the mirror.

Her face was pale, hair disheveled, the corners of her eyes rimmed red.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar sensation below made her panic. She was wearing a pink dress, and now little drops of red were blooming across the fabric. Her face went even whiter as she reached down and her fingertips came away smeared bright with blood.

Vertigo spun through her mind. She stared dumbly at the blood on her hands, her heart racing in utter terror—stronger than ever before.

She opened her mouth, trying to call for Fu Zhiyue, but no sound would come. Pain wrenched through her abdomen. Small hands clamped over her belly, her petite body crumpling helplessly onto the cold bathroom tile.

"It hurts," she whimpered, her voice low and muffled. "So much..."

Downstairs, the security team was just about to usher everyone out when Fu Zhiyue turned back toward the bedroom. A vague anxiety gnawed at him, and he hurried inside.

"Zhiyue... ugh, Zhiyue..." He had barely set foot downstairs before he heard the sound of Cecilia’s tear-choked voice. Fear surged through him, and he tore up the stairs three at a time.

"Cecilia—" With just a glance, Fu Zhiyue felt as if he’d stumbled into the most terrifying moment of his life. His girl was curled up on the floor, hands clutching her stomach, her dress already soaked with blood.

Stumbling forward, he scooped her up, calling her name. The normally unflappable Fu Zhiyue suddenly lost all rational thought. "Cecilia, Cecilia!"

"Zhiyue..." Cecilia Ye’s eyes brimmed with tears, which slid into her tangled hair. She was so weak she could barely muster the strength to speak. "The baby, save the baby…"

Her voice was so small, but it made Fu Zhiyue’s eyes instantly redden. He couldn't even process his shock—he just gathered her in his arms and hurried downstairs.

The crowd outside had already dispersed. Fu Zhiyue carried her out, hands trembling uncontrollably, but his stride was quick and steady as he forced his way forward.

Barely had he crossed the threshold when Henry Hart pulled up with the car, brakes screeching as he stopped beside them.

"President."

Seeing what was happening, Henry Hart was stunned. He leaped out to open the door.

Fu Zhiyue got into the back seat, clutching her tightly. "To the hospital. The nearest one. Hurry!"

He held her close until the engine roared to life, finally letting out a shaky breath. Looking down at the sweat-soaked girl in his arms, Fu Zhiyue choked out, "Don’t be afraid. We’re almost there, Cecilia. Honey, don’t fall asleep, alright? Stay awake for me."

Cecilia Ye tried her best to keep her eyes open, lashes fluttering, her little hands pressed against her belly. The irregular spasms of pain, the blood, the fear—the images kept swirling.

She kept whispering to their baby. Even the densest of men would have realized by now—this was their child. Even in the time when he had hurt her, she was carrying his baby.

No wonder she'd been vomiting for days, always so pale and drawn…

How could I have been so careless?!

The guilt threatened to drown Fu Zhiyue. He took her freezing hand in both of his, afraid she'd hurt herself.

Only by cradling her like this could he see the tiny curve of her belly.

"It’ll be alright," he said, "the baby will be fine. We’re almost at the hospital."

Hot tears fell on Cecilia Ye’s face as he pressed desperate kisses to her cheeks. Unlike that night, this time his tears brimming with remorse and heartbreak.

Cecilia Ye felt so, so tired. She could feel the blood still seeping, wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and let go, to leave everything behind.

If only she could freeze her memory on the day she’d been knocked down by Zhiyue’s car, when he brought her home to the Fu family for the first time—how perfect that would be.

Her almond-shaped eyes drifted shut, Fu Zhiyue’s voice echoing in her ears.

Suddenly, he seemed so worried, so scared. So Fu Zhiyue could be afraid too, after all.

"Darling, don’t sleep, please. Stay with me, we’re almost there."

Cecilia Ye thought, I don’t want to sleep either, but I really am so tired now.

I’m sorry. I didn’t take good care of the baby. I didn’t protect him.

"I’m sorry…"

The words, barely more than a breath, reached Fu Zhiyue’s ear. In his arms, she slipped into unconsciousness, slender wrists going limp.

Fu Zhiyue felt as if his heart would explode. Cecilia always apologized—like the time she went missing, she was the one saying sorry.

But it was always his fault. Always his mistake.

His Cecilia, his girl, always shouldering the blame herself.

"Drive faster," Fu Zhiyue gritted out, bloodshot eyes burning as he tried to stay calm.

Outside, a torrential rain hammered against the car windows.

Henry Hart followed the GPS to the nearest hospital, pushing the car to its limits.

Luckily for them, it was as if fate itself was on their side—every light was green.

The car screeched to a halt at the hospital entrance, sliding perfectly to a stop.

Fu Zhiyue rushed out, carrying her in. Doctors were already waiting, hands ready as they transferred Cecilia onto a gurney.

At the lead was Dr. Zhao, who had seen Cecilia before. He instantly rushed her into emergency care.

Only when the doors to the ER finally closed did Fu Zhiyue freeze, Henry Hart at his side.

His hands were still stained with Cecilia’s blood—warm and sticky. He didn’t even dare to look back.