A soft knock at the ward door broke the silence. "Sister, I heard you had a miscarriage. I came to see you."
At the doorway stood Patricia, one hand resting lightly on her slightly rounded belly as she studied me with exaggerated concern. Weston hovered beside her, fidgeting nervously.
"Denise, Patricia is pregnant. Please don't be like you were yesterday..." he said, worry heavy in his voice.
My gaze locked on her belly. Patricia seemed startled by my stare and took an involuntary step back.
"Don't scare her," Weston scolded, frowning as he tried to smooth things over.
"Is the baby in her belly yours?" I asked, cold and steady.
For a moment both their faces were drained of color.
"No...of course not…" Weston stammered, his gaze darting away.
Patricia's eyes reddened and she stepped forward, clutching at the explanation like a rescue line. "Sister, please don't misunderstand Brother-in-law. I only thought—after what happened, the doctor said you might never be able to have children again...I just wanted to give you my child to raise when the baby is born, so you and Brother-in-law won't be so sad."
Weston cleared his throat, trying to reassure me. "Denise, Patricia meant well... Perhaps—"
"Let's separate." I cut him off before he could finish. "I'm tired. I won't play along anymore."
"If you loved each other so much, fine. Then have each other."
A flash of delight lit Patricia's face for a beat, then it was gone.
Weston's pupils narrowed. "W-what did you say?" He took a step toward me but stopped dead at the sound of Patricia's sudden sob.
"Sister, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have come back. It's my fault—I'll go now!" she wailed, and fled the room.
Weston hesitated, then looked at me with a soft, pleading expression. "Denise, I know you're grieving, but don't say things you don't mean. If you don't want to raise Patricia's child, fine—don't say that in anger. Wait until you recover, and we can have another baby later."
After saying that, he left in a hurry, unaware of the cold smile curling at my mouth.
I wasn't angry, but eerily calm. Countless thoughts swirled in my mind as I pulled out my phone and called Assistant Lenon.
"Send that billion-dollar contract to the Lane Group as my dowry," I said. "Let it be my wedding gift."