Chapter 8 Losing a Loved One

Tiffany went to the hospital to check up on her pregnancy the next day. The doctor was busy running tests while she quietly awaited the results. Finally, after battling her fear, she asked, “Is the baby gone, doctor?” “Hm? What makes you think that?” “These past few days have been… stressful. I haven’t had proper meals, and you mentioned before that I have symptoms of threatened miscarriage.” The doctor pushed his glasses against the bridge of his nose. “Nausea is common in pregnant women, miss. Pay attention to how you feel before it happens and you’ll be able to catch it next time. Just remember to rest well.” “So the baby is still… alive?” “Yes.” He nodded. “But there’s better news too. We saw two amniotic sacs on the ultrasound scans. That means you’re having twins, miss. Congratulations.” Shocked still, Tiffany stared at the report in the doctor’s hands for a long while. She had done her research. The chances of her getting pregnant was already incredibly low, not to mention having twins. The only probability of that happening was if there was medical intervention. That meant only one thing—the Campbells had planned all this from the start, from marriage to pregnancy. They didn’t care what she might think, not even in the slightest. Her only advantage right now was that no one else knew about the twins besides her, since the Campbells’ family doctor stopped visiting her for check-ups since Mortimer raised the issue of divorce. So maybe she still had a choice in this. Tiffany opened up her phone and clicked into the obstetrician’s webpage, yet her thumb hovered over the appointment button. Two lives were on the line. Could she really end them before they were even born? Just as she was hesitating, her phone buzzed with a notification. It was a call from her mother. “Come home quick, your father is—!” Tiffany reacted even before she could process what had happened, so used to all the obstacles life had been throwing at her lately. She ran to the roadside to hail a taxi. Her mother was waiting for her when she arrived. Tiffany could instantly see the hard lines on her face. She went into the bedroom with her mother. Her father lay on the bed, his unfocused gaze momentarily coming to life when he saw his daughter. Tiffany felt like someone was shoving pins into her chest. Her heart ached. He used all his strength to lift an arm, beckoning for Tiffany. “Come here… my girl.” Forcing back tears, Tiffany tried her best to give her father a smile. “Hey, Dad. Why don’t we get you to the hospital?” Her stepmother, Fanny, snorted from the side. “Easy for you to say. We’re penniless, Tiffany! Didn’t Madam Kelly give you money? That should be enough to get your father treated at the hospital.” No way was she giving away that money so easily. That was her compensation for marrying Mortimer Campbell in the first place! Fanny sneered disdainfully, twisting the ring around her finger. “We have nothing else. All the money we had was taken away by your father’s debtors after the business failed. Plus, what’s the use of treatment? The sickness is untreatable. He might as well pass on and be rid of this suffering.” Fanny nonchalantly finished her speech before packing up her things. She left the house without so much as a final glance. In the end, the only people around Ivan’s deathbed were the wife he betrayed and the daughter he neglected. Tears streaked his weathered face as he gazed at the two women. The regret on his face was soul-crushing. “I’m… so sorry for how I… treated you… all this time. But it’s… too late now… I’m sorry… I promise, if there is… a next life, I’ll treat you… right…” As he gently shut his eyes, Ivan heaved his final, tearful breath. Juliana burst into tears and hunched over his body as its residual warmth slowly ebbed away. Tiffany’s sadness rivaled her mother’s, but she had no more energy to weep. She was barely 20 years old and already had to suffer a marriage with a hard-headed man who couldn’t stand the sight of her, a pair of twins growing in her belly, and now she had to bear the pain of losing her father. Some would say it was all too much. But she had to pull herself together, if not for herself then for her mother. Her father’s funeral was a simple affair. Tiffany had called up some of her relatives to come, and she had arranged it all very quickly. Tiffany gazed at the portrait depicting her father, then at her mother’s swollen eyes. “Why are you crying, Mom? I thought you hated him?” “Love and hate are two sides of the same coin, my dear. I hated him so much because I loved him just as much once.” Juliana sighed. “Ah,” Tiffany thought, “so that’s how complicated loving someone can be, how much joy and pain it could cause you.” After the funeral, she returned to the Campbell mansion. She had not gone back since Ivan’s passing, making that five whole days. Mortimer never once called her to ask about her whereabouts, nor did she tell him. They were strangers, after all. There was no need to talk about these things. Bright, flashing lights and loud music pumped out from the mansion windows. Tiffany got out of the car and went up to the doors, pushing them open. The instant she stepped in, the music stopped. Everyone’s eyes fell on her. Her dull black overcoat and dark boots were dreary compared to the guests’ exquisite ensembles. She truly did not belong in this crowd. Tiffany felt the strong urge to turn away and leave but changed her mind when she spotted the woman in the middle of the living room. She looked ravishing as she leaned against Mortimer’s shoulder and a thin cigarette holder in hand. The woman noticed Tiffany’s gaze as well. She blew a smoke ring in her direction, as to taunt Tiffany. Nearly rolling her eyes, Tiffany strode up to the two, ignoring the guests’ expectant gazes. “Hello,” she drawled. “Are you the woman Madam Kelly picked out to be Mortimer’s wife? Well, here I thought you might have something to show for yourself. Turns out I had too high hopes for you,” the woman crooned sarcastically. “You really are nothing but basic.” She even pouted, making everyone around her snigger. Tiffany replied flatly, “Really now? So you’re saying Madam Kelly’s taste is lacking because she chose me?” “I did no—don’t put words in my mouth!” The woman glanced at Mortimer to make sure he wasn’t upset before jeering with newfound confidence, “Is that all you’re really good for, talking back like a parrot? Ah, beggars can’t be choosers, I guess. Now, do you think Mortimer’s gonna come to your rescue if I slap you right now?” Her eyes narrowed evilly. “Because I know he won’t!” The woman raised her hand to hit Tiffany right across her cheek.