Chapter 4

To Tessa, hearing those sounds was like red-hot steel driving into her ears and piercing straight through her heart. She turned her face away in devastation, tears pouring out. She recalled how gentle and restrained he had been when they did it for the first time in the marital home he'd meticulously decorated. He had asked her over and over if she was scared or if it hurt, treating her like the most precious, fragile thing in the world. Yet now, just a few steps away from her, he was forcing her to watch a scene she could barely bear. She wanted to run away, but there was no way she could hail a taxi here since this was an overpass. Tessa could only stand by the road like discarded trash, listening to the sounds that broke her heart as the autumn wind dried her tears. Five whole hours later, the car window slowly rolled down, revealing Clarissa's flushed, satisfied face. She languidly flipped her hair. "Get in. It's windy out there." Tessa numbly got back into the car. The strong musky scent mixed with perfume made her close her eyes in pain. Right then, Clarissa softly complained, "Stanley… You finished inside me… What if I get pregnant?" Stanley chuckled, his voice full of an indulgence and anticipation Tessa had never heard directed at her. "Then we'll have the baby. We'll have a child who looks like you." Tessa's mind went blank from the shock. A child… They had once passionately discussed having children. Back then, he would always hold her from behind. With a warm hand on her stomach, he would whisper about having two children someday. If they had a boy, the boy could protect her, and if they had a girl, he was going to spoil her like a princess. But he had said that he would still spoil Tessa the most no matter what. Those tender promises, happy whispers, and the hopes and dreams that had once been so real now felt as distant as something from a past life. She was still in a daze when Clarissa's cloying voice rang out. "Sure, then let's pick up where we left off at home, but this time, we can do it as much as you want." Sure enough, back at the villa, they shamelessly did it everywhere possible. The living room, the kitchen, even the stairwell had become their playground. Their lascivious sounds seeped through the door day and night, torturing Tessa mentally. She shut herself in her room, the pain from the cancer constantly gnawing at her. Hunching over the toilet, she vomited bright red blood. It was as if two worlds coexisted in the same house. Beyond the door was a riot of pleasure and the hope of new life. Inside, there was nothing but silent deterioration and the countdown to death. … The noise outside finally quieted that day. Tessa dragged her weakened body out of the room and found Clarissa in the kitchen in an apron, fumbling with utensils and ingredients as she tried to cook. Stanley was at the table reading the paper. Clarissa's eyes lit up the instant she saw Tessa. She spoke in a tone of patronizing charity. "You came out just in time. I made a lot of food for Stanley. Have some. Consider it my little act of kindness." Tessa shook her head. "No thanks." Stanley snapped the newspaper shut, his face darkening. "Don't be ungrateful, Tessa. Come here." She had no choice but to go. Most of the dishes on the table were burnt and unappetizing, but Stanley ate with no change in expression. "Is it good?" Clarissa asked expectantly. He set down his spoon before tenderly patting her head. "It's delicious." Tessa's heart lurched as a wave of memories flooded her mind. The first time she ever cooked for him had been just as much of a disaster, yet he ate every bite, ruffling her hair with a smile. "Anything you make tastes good to me." The gentleness in his eyes back then, when recalled now, was like a dull knife slicing into her heart. "Why aren't you eating?" Clarissa asked, feigning concern. Tessa forced herself to pick up a fork and try a bite of the burnt food. Just as she swallowed, a metallic, sickly taste rose in her throat. She clapped a hand over her mouth and stumbled for the bathroom, where she bent over the toilet, coughing out blood until the water turned red. She quickly flushed the toilet, trying to wash the blood away. Clarissa followed her to the bathroom. Leaning in the doorway, Clarissa said in a hurt, sharp tone, "Is my cooking so bad that it made you want to vomit? Tessa, do you have a problem with me?" She started to sob. Stanley came at the sound. His face darkened when he saw Clarissa cry. He pulled her into his arms and soothed her. "It's alright. Don't cry." Then his cold gaze landed on Tessa. "Since she doesn't like to eat, she doesn't have to eat for the next few days. Guards, come and dislocate her jaw."