He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles bone-white. After a long pause, he finally said, “Elodie… just know that the person I’ve always loved most is you.”

Heh. What a joke.

So this was what love meant to him? Betraying the woman he claimed to love—again and again—and hurting everyone she cared about?

If this was love, then it was cruel. Hollow. Worthless.

At the hospital, as they wheeled my mother into surgery, Darien stayed by my side. But his eyes kept flicking to his phone, his brows knit in tension.

"Just go," I muttered.

Hearing that, he slowly put down his phone and reached out, trying to pull me into an embrace. I stepped back, avoiding his touch like it burned.

His arms dropped and he stood there awkwardly. "I’m not leaving. I’ll stay here with you."

I was basically telling him to leave, but Darien did not seem to understand.  "I don’t need you."

"Elodie," he said softly, "you don’t have to pretend to be strong in front of me."

I looked up at him, my voice cold and unwavering. "Darien Eugene, where were you when I needed you the most?"

"Do you even know what it feels like… to feel life slipping away from inside you, piece by piece?"

"You don’t. You never will. And honestly? I don’t think you even care. Because in your eyes, I was never as important as Vienna. Not me. Not even my child."

His body stiffened. His lips parted in disbelief, words stumbling out of him. "What? Our… our child is gone? No… that can’t be…"

I stared at him, unmoved. "Don’t pretend. Isn’t that what you wanted all along? Wasn’t that the plan? To get rid of it?"

"No! No, it’s not like that." Darien grabbed my shoulders, his eyes frantic, his grip trembling with desperation. "I would never harm our child. I only lied to Vienna because if I didn’t, she would’ve come after you both. I was trying to protect you!"

I let out a bitter laugh, hollow and exhausted. "The truth doesn’t matter anymore, Darien. Not after everything."

Just then, the doors to the operating room flew open. "Family of Esther?"

I jolted forward and ran to the doctor. "I’m her daughter. How is she?"

"She just fainted from stress," the doctor said calmly. "She’s stable now and only needs rest."

I finally exhaled the breath I had been holding. Relief was just beginning to settle in—until the doctor continued, "However, during the examination… we found signs of leukemia."