Adriana pressed her lips together. After a long pause, she replied softly, “It’s fine. As long as he has me, that’s enough.”
I stood outside the study, gripping the doorknob so tightly the veins on the back of my hand bulged and trembled uncontrollably.
Before Adriana could notice I was there, I stumbled back to the bedroom, collapsing to the floor in a daze.
All this time, I thought her miscarriages were my fault—that something was wrong with my body.
I even believed Adriana didn’t use contraception because she was desperate to have our child.
But I was wrong.
Her mother had made it clear: whether it was Adriana or her niece Melissa, whoever gave birth to an heir would become the next head of the family business.
To avoid suspicion, Adriana never used birth control. She made me believe she wanted the baby as much as I did. I even felt guilty, thinking I was the one holding her back.
But now I know—all her tenderness was nothing but lie.
In her eyes, my existence and our deceased seven unborn children were just obstacles on Khalil’s path to happiness.
“Allen, why are you sitting on the floor?”
Adriana walked into the room and hurried over to help me up, her face full of concern.
“It’s nothing. My stomach just felt a little off,” I lied without batting an eyelid.
She gently rubbed my back to ease my breathing.
“You’ve been taking such good care of me lately, darling. If you ever feel unwell again, please tell me. Don’t keep it to yourself. It breaks my heart.”
“Ever since I got pregnant, I haven’t been sleeping well. The doctor said warm milk helps. Once the baby is born, you’ll have to spank him for me—teach him not to let his mommy suffer so much.”
I looked at that cup of milk and felt a sharp pain in my chest.
Will I ever get to meet my child?
Before every miscarriage, Adriana had acted exactly like this—diligently following the doctor’s advice, eating every meal of nutritious food and taking every supplement said to benefit the fetus.
I thought she wanted this child as much as I did.
I never imagined those were the blades she used to kill them.
Clenching my fist, I said, “Honey, you’ve always hated the taste of milk. Don’t force yourself to drink it, okay?”
Adriana gave a helpless smile, but her tone left no room for argument.
“Allen, stop being silly. The doctor said the more you dislike food, the more it means your body is lacking it.”