Chapter 4

Before the maid even finished screaming, Holt had kicked open the bathroom door.

He carried the barely conscious Zara and ran for the door.

"Allen, get the car! We need to get to the hospital now!"

I suddenly got what Zara meant in her texts about kicking me out.

That was a pretty smart move, I'll give her that.

If she'd tried manipulating or scheming, there was a chance of getting caught.

But self-harm? That... meant I needed to pack my bags.

I went back to my room, pulled out my suitcase, and methodically packed my valuables. For the bigger items, I paid extra for movers to come overnight.

Another night without sleep.

By the time I closed the suitcase, it was already 9:30.

I instinctively touched my stomach.

This baby... couldn't stay.

After a long sigh, I picked up my phone and scheduled an abortion for tomorrow afternoon.

When I finished, I was about to go downstairs to get something to eat when—

Click. Holt was home.

He looked exhausted, his voice thick with fatigue:

"Sandra, Zara's really emotionally fragile right now. The doctor says we need to avoid upsetting her."

"You can't stay in this villa anymore."

After speaking, Holt automatically reached for his checkbook in his pocket.

"I'll give you some money. Just move out for a while. Later..."

"No need."

It was the first time I'd ever turned down Holt's money.

His hand froze mid-air. He looked up at me confused, then frowned impatiently and upped the offer:

"Not enough?"

"I'll add another two hundred thousand. Just be reasonable and don't..."

I reached out and pressed his hand down before he could write another check.

"No."

"Holt, what I mean is—let's end this."

"End this?"

For the first time, Holt looked at me with a strange expression, like he was mocking my overconfidence. He scoffed:

"You can actually walk away? Give up this lifestyle?"

"Enough with the games. You want something new? A car, a house, a bag, jewelry—just behave and I'll..."

Before he could finish, I grabbed my suitcase.

For the first time, I met Holt's eyes directly:

"I know my good life exists because I look like Zara. Now the real thing's back, and she's dramatic enough to threaten suicide. I can't... actually let her get hurt, can I?"

"More importantly, Holt, I don't want to be your property anymore."

"I want to be my own person."

As I finished, I pulled my suitcase toward the door.

Holt had probably never been talked back to like this. His voice turned icy with anger:

"Sandra, you dare defy me? Who do you think you are?"

"Do you know how many women would beg for this life? I'm giving you one last chance. Come back! Take the check like you always do. I'll pretend you never said that nonsense."

"Don't make me repeat myself."

I stopped but ignored his hostile tone.

Instead, I smiled:

"Holt, thanks for these years. I really do like the name you gave me."

"I hope... you find what you're looking for. Goodbye."

With that, I walked out of the villa and didn't look back.

Holt didn't try to stop me. Instead, he went straight back to the hospital, still fuming.

In the hospital room, Zara was propped up on the bed, clearly pleased that I'd "wisely" ended things.

But seeing Holt looking distracted, she frowned with dissatisfaction.

She was about to complain about pain to get his attention back.

Just then—

Knock, knock, knock.

The hospital room door opened, and an unfamiliar doctor stepped in.

He looked eager to please, smiling ingratiatingly at Holt:

"Mr. Sterling, I'm the chief of obstetrics here."

"Sandra had a prenatal appointment scheduled that she missed. Since you're here, I thought I'd ask if you'd like me to reschedule it. We can arrange the best obstetricians in the city!"

Holt froze, like he couldn't process what he was hearing.

He asked without thinking:

"What?"

The doctor finally caught on, quickly switching to a congratulatory smile:

"Oh! My mistake—I didn't realize it was supposed to be a surprise. What wonderful news! During her last visit, Sandra found out she's pregnant and scheduled a full prenatal exam. Everything looks great, don't worry."

"Congratulations, Mr. Sterling—you're going to be a father!"

"The baby is already six weeks along!"