The Quinton Family placed great emphasis on higher education for its family members. The boy was raised in the main house since he was in a young age and he was given various courses after coming home from school.
It was so funny to say that I was the one gave birth to that boy, but my time to meet him was only a handful of times. This was the reason why I had cried and made a fuss, but the Quinton Family did not care at all.
In their view, being able to marry into the Quinton Family was because of my ancestors' merits. As for the rest, it was pure delusion.
Henry pinched his high nose bridge and asked me to focus more on the child. "If this goes on, Jessica will be more like his mother than you."
I understood the meaning of his words.
Yesterday was Friday. It was the only day I was allowed to pick up my son from school.
I arrived an hour early, waiting until it was dark and the school gate was closed.
A few moments later, Jessica called me and informed me that Camilla Quinton, asked her to pick up my son and go back to the main house for having dinner.
On the other end of the phone, I heard Henry's voice.
He was asking Jessica with a soft voice if she wanted a bowl of soup.
Thinking back on all those scenes, I said to Henry with a fake smile, "That's just what you want. I'll leave right away. Let this so-called Ms. Quinton do it."
I did not know which word stabbed him, but he remained quiet for several seconds and suddenly became furious.
"There is a limit to my patience. Renata, stop making trouble," the man said as he stood up and took two steps.
I said indifferently, "Ah, by the way, I forgot to tell you that I had a miscarriage."
A month ago.
On the night when he received a call from Jessica and hurried out to block the wine for her, I had unbearable abdominal pain and drove to the emergency department of the hospital by myself.
But I was told that I had been pregnant for more than two months and the baby had lost the fetal heart rate and had already been biochemically induced.
The most ridiculous thing was that when I knew that the baby was gone, I was relieved.
Getting off the operating table alone, I thought it was time to end it.
In the living room, Henry turned his back to me, held his wine glass tightly and his fingertips turned white.