Chapter 3

My phone vibrated on the nightstand, Noah Smith’s name lighting up the screen. The moment I answered the video call, he appeared bathed in warm yellow light, a swaddled infant in his arms. Clara leaned against his shoulder, a gauze bandage on her temple, her eyes blazing with victorious smugness. "Alice, Sister-in-law gave birth—a 7.2-pound boy," Noah Smith said, his lips curving into a tender smile as his fingertips brushed the baby’s palm. "Look, he resembles me as a child." The baby yawned, its pink face scrunching up. This supposedly warm scene only reminded me of the prenatal clinic three months ago, when Noah had frowned at the ultrasound report and snapped, "Why is it so small? Is it underdeveloped?" I pressed a hand to my bleeding abdominal wound, barely able to speak through the pain. "Noah Smith, I had a miscarriage." His smile froze, a flicker of shock crossing his eyes before turning to irritation. "What stunt is this? Jealous that Sister-in-law had a son? Now you’re lying about miscarriages?" Clara took the phone at the right moment, her voice trembling with calculated sorrow. "Alice, I know you’re angry at Noah... but please don’t say such things. He only cared too much about me—forgive him this once." Before the call cut off, I heard Noah’s scornful laugh. "She’s always been a victim. Once you’re out of confinement, we’ll vacation in the Maldives. Bring extra sunscreen..." My mother silently turned off the TV, where news of The Smith Group’s charity gala for the newborn played. On screen, Noah posed with the baby for the media, his smile under the flashbulbs sickeningly fake. I touched the ruby necklace around my neck, its sharp edges digging into my skin. "Noah Smith, are you satisfied? You paved your sister-in-law’s path to inheritance with our child’s life." I whispered to the air, tears streaming down my face. When the nurse entered to change my dressing, I glimpsed the diagnosis on the chart: "Missed abortion. Recommend urgent surgery." The snow fell heavier, bending the branches of the outdoor Christmas tree like my broken heart. I dialed my lawyer, his voice worried. "Ms. Alice, are you sure you want to disclose that document? The Smith Group only survived because of The Williams Family’s covert funding. If—" "Let him know..." I stared at the whiteout beyond the window, my fingers grazing my now-flat stomach where our child had grown. "I, Alice Williams, am no dodder vine clinging to others. The night The Williams Family went bankrupt, my father traded his life for that agreement. Now it’s time someone paid the price." Hanging up, I clenched the ruby necklace. Snow fell soundlessly, masking all sins and falsehoods. But the truth would rise. The operating room's shadowless lights glared like pale moonlight, piercing my pupils. My mother’s rough palm covered mine, still warm, but I felt no comfort—only the cold glint of the anesthesiologist’s syringe. "Be gentle with me, the wound hurts..." Clara’s delicate voice suddenly cut through the corridor’s silence. I froze, gripping my mother’s hand so tightly my nails dug in. "Noah, could Alice have really miscarried?"