Chapter 2
The moment those words left my lips, all those relatives outside turned deathly pale.
Only Sebastian let out a cold sneer.
Following his disdainful laugh, everyone else belatedly burst into hysterical laughter.
"Miss Vivian, do you still think you're some mob princess? Marcus is long dead. Who are you trying to scare?"
"Exactly! If Mr. Hayes hadn't been kind enough to take you in, you wouldn't even be worthy of shining Sophie's shoes!"
Hearing these outsiders insult me, Sebastian just smiled faintly, not defending me at all.
He pulled Sophie's slender waist closer and slowly walked to the small window, casually tapping on the glass in front of me.
"Vivian, feeling hot? Do you understand what you did wrong?"
The red thermometer on the metal wall showed the baking chamber had been set to 122°F.
The room was suffocatingly hot, like being in hell. My skin had turned bright red from the heat.
No matter how deeply I breathed, my chest felt like it was being pierced with needles, so stifling I could barely breathe.
Sweat poured off me like rain. My voice was hoarse. "Sebastian, what did I do wrong by escaping the sun to go into an air-conditioned room? If I hadn't forced my way in, your child would already be dead in my belly!"
I was about to continue when suddenly, under the intense heat, a violent cramping pain shot through my lower abdomen.
Accompanied by frequent fetal movement, I crouched down and curled up, screaming.
"Sebastian, let me out! It's too hot in here—the baby can't take it! Aren't you the one who's been so desperate for him to be born?!"
Sebastian's gaze dropped to my belly, his eyes dark and unreadable.
Watching his reaction, my heart grew colder and colder.
I had a weak constitution. Before this, I'd been pregnant five times, but every single one ended in miscarriage.
Each time I lost a baby, Sebastian was so devastated he looked ready to kill someone.
This time we'd been so careful with the pregnancy, finally making it to eight months.
Once, when I was making him noodles and my belly was exposed to heat from the stove, causing frequent fetal movement, he'd been both angry and heartbroken, staying by my side all night.
And now, because of Sophie's ridiculous heatstroke, he'd personally locked me in a baking chamber.
My heart ached with bitter pain. I was about to speak through gritted teeth when Sophie clutched her head and swayed unsteadily, her voice unbearably weak.
"Sebastian, let her out. She's been pampered all her life—how can she endure this suffering? She didn't do anything wrong. It's all my fault. I'm just a housekeeper's daughter. Even if I die of heatstroke in this hundred-degree weather, it's only what I deserve..."
My blood boiled with rage.
Just minutes after I smashed the window, she'd turned around and gone back to the bedroom, having a servant bring her half a chilled watermelon.
The one who'd been roasting outside for hours, nearly suffering heatstroke—that was me!
My eyes turned bloodshot as I glared at her. Just as I was about to speak, Sebastian slammed his fist against the glass window.
His voice turned ice-cold. "Go turn up the temperature 9°F. She's pampered and afraid of heat? Today I'll make sure she gets back every bit of grievance Sophie suffered!"
He affectionately ruffled Sophie's hair, his eyes practically overflowing with tenderness.
"I know you've been wronged. You were kind enough to help with her pregnancy care, and she nearly killed you for it. Go on, Sophie, adjust it yourself. I dare her to say one word against it!"
When Sophie walked back, the red thermometer on the metal wall showed 140°F.
She'd raised it a full 18°F!
The baking chamber instantly became like hell itself. My entire body felt like it was being deep-fried in oil.
My dress had long been soaked through with sweat, clinging wetly to my swollen belly.
The frequent fetal movement was practically my baby's desperate cry for help.
For the sake of my child, I dragged out my smoke-damaged voice, hoarse beyond recognition, and admitted fault. "I was wrong, Sebastian. I know I was wrong..."