"But I still feel incomplete," Jacqueline replied. "And my mother-in-law won’t let me forget it. Scott, I can’t wait any longer, please, help me."

Scott’s expression softened with heartache, his eyes filled with something I had never seen before; hesitation, longing.

Then, without missing a beat, he pulled out his phone and made a call. "Dr. Ainsley, I want my wife to have a C-section the day after tomorrow. Get everything ready."

"Mr. Foster, that’s risky," the doctor warned. "It’s too soon after the cell fluid injection. Surgery now could be dangerous, and she’d almost certainly lose her uterus."

Scott didn’t even flinch. "It doesn’t matter. I’ve made my decision. Whatever it takes, I want Jacqueline to be a mother."

But what about me, Scott? Was I nothing more than a means to an end? Was my body just something to be sacrificed for your great love?

Tears burned my eyes, but before I could wipe them away, my wheelchair bumped into a vase, knocking it over with a loud crash.

Scott turned sharply, a flicker of panic in his gaze. "Abigail, when did you get here? Did you hear—"

"I didn’t hear anything," I cut in smoothly. "I just got here when I heard voices on the terrace."

Relief washed over his face. Jacqueline gave me a polite smile. "Abigail, long time no see."

I forced a small smile. "Yeah, it’s been a while. I was bored at home, so I thought I’d come out for some fresh air. But I’m good now, I will leave you two to it."

I turned to leave, but Scott caught up quickly, slipping his suit jacket over my shoulders. Crouching in front of me, he met my gaze. "Don't overthink it. Jacqueline is the team commander. I invited her here to discuss the upcoming battle, nothing more."

Scott’s tender expression had the cameras flashing nonstop, capturing what looked like a heartfelt moment. But I knew the truth, he wasn’t doing this for me. He just didn’t want Jacqueline’s reputation to take a hit.

"It’s fine, I’m not that petty. You two go ahead and talk. I’ll head home," I said with a small smile, turning away before he could see through it.

Back home, I went straight to the nursery, grabbed every piece of baby clothing I had knitted, and tossed them into the trash. This child was never meant to exist.

Scott walked in just as the last tiny sweater landed in the bin. His eyes flickered with surprise. "Why are you throwing those away?"