The shift in his expression was immediate, his features darkening as the weight of her words settled in. "You don’t want the baby anymore?"

Sienna shook her head vehemently. "No... He's not my baby. He’s yours."

He stepped back, his jaw clenched as he grit out, "Don’t even think about it. Your brother’s death was his fault, don’t pin it on me. Just stay by my side until I’ve had enough of you!"

The words cut deeper than any punch, and Sienna was left standing in a haze of confusion and pain. She was physically and mentally drained—her body ravaged by illness and grief.

Sleep evaded her completely, her nights plagued with nightmares. Her hair fell out in clumps, and she wandered through her days in a daze. Sometimes, she forgot to feed the baby, or, worse, she’d absentmindedly shove a biscuit into his mouth when he cried for milk.

One evening, the confinement nurse caught her off guard, witnessing the horrifying scene. Elijah noticed the changes too—the sleepless nights, the emptiness in her eyes when he held her, and the distance that had grown between them.

Concerned, he took her to a doctor, who diagnosed her with postpartum depression. The doctor’s words were like a cold slap, confirming what Elijah feared. Sienna was no longer fit to care for the baby.

Yet Nancy was unrelenting. She wanted to kick Sienna out of the house. But Elijah, despite his frustrations, refused to let that happen.

"Even if you can't breastfeed, you still need to take care of him," he insisted. "You're responsible for his daily needs."

A new wet nurse was brought in, one who could provide an abundance of milk, but the child rejected her. Even though he was hungry, he refused to eat, crying weakly and intermittently, as if he could sense the absence of the woman he truly needed.

Sienna could hear him crying every day. His pitiful sobs tore at her heart, and the guilt of being unable to comfort him only deepened her despair.

She had been taking milk-enhancing medicine, but for the sake of the child, she had stopped, choosing instead to drink soup. The grief of losing her brother began to fade, its weight lessened by the small moments of joy she could still find in caring for the baby.

Finally, the milk returned. Though the pain was unbearable, she endured it long enough to express the remaining milk, then cradled the baby in her arms once more. His cries gradually subsided, and as he fed, Sienna's heart melted. The baby swallowed greedily, his tiny body making soft whimpering sounds, reminiscent of a kitten.

Once she had finished breastfeeding, she returned to her room, only to be confronted by a sudden flurry of activity. Nancy stood at the center, her voice commanding as she ordered the bodyguards, "Tie up the murderer of my grandson."

Confusion clouded Sienna’s mind, but the mention of death sharpened her senses. In a panic, she shouted, "What's happening? What's wrong with the baby?"

Before she could react, a sharp kick landed in her lower abdomen. Nancy's venomous words followed. "You wretched woman, what did you give the baby to drink?"

Ignoring the pain that flared in her abdomen, Sienna fought to explain. "It's nothing. Just my breast milk. The baby won’t drink formula, so I... I squeezed it into the bottle for him..."

Before she could finish, the housekeeper rushed in, holding the baby in his arms. His face was pale, his body limp. "Madam, the young sir... he's not breathing."

Sienna’s heart stopped as she watched the child’s lifeless form, blood and foam dripping from his mouth—the same mouth that had been drinking her milk moments ago. With a heart-rending cry, she broke free from the grip of the two men holding her and lunged for her child.

Her hands trembled as she scooped the baby up, his small body stiffening in her arms. "No!" she wailed, her voice breaking. She ran for the door, her every step heavy with fear.

Nancy’s voice rang out, cold and commanding. "Stop her! Get my grandson back!"

In an instant, several men and women surged forward, pinning Sienna to the floor. The baby was ripped from her arms and returned to Nancy's, who held him tightly, her expression unreadable.

Sienna, desperate and frantic, pleaded, "Please... please... take him to the hospital! Hurry!"

Her words seemed to pierce through the cold atmosphere. Nancy’s eyes widened in realization, and she quickly barked orders. "Call the driver. Get the car ready to go to the hospital. And someone, get Elijah!"

The coldness returned as she turned to the bodyguards. "What about this woman?"

"Throw her out. Don't let her see the child again."

Without a second thought, Sienna was shoved out of the house, her phone and money taken from her. She stood outside, disoriented, but too afraid to leave. She wandered aimlessly around the grounds of Morgan's mansion, unsure of what to do next.

She had hoped to wait for Elijah to return, to explain everything to him and perhaps find some semblance of resolution. But instead of Elijah, she found herself face-to-face with Wesley Wood, her university professor and her late brother’s close friend.

The car stopped in front of her, and Wesley’s voice broke through her dazed thoughts. “Sienna, is that really you?”

Seeing a familiar face, Sienna felt a lump form in her throat, and her nose tingled with the sharp sting of unshed tears. “Mr. Wood…”

“It’s so late. Why are you out here by yourself? Get in the car,” he said, concern evident in his voice.

Wesley had returned from abroad after hearing about his friend’s death. As soon as he’d come back, he’d searched everywhere for Sienna. Seeing her now, he didn’t ask questions. Instead, he simply drove her back to his place without a word.

The next morning, Sienna, desperate and lost, asked Wesley to lend her some money. She needed to get to the hospital, where her heart was bound, despite the uncertainty. She took a taxi there, trying to steady her breath.

At the hospital, she arrived to find two bodyguards in suits standing at the door of the ward, blocking her way. She couldn’t get in.

Just as she was about to give up, Courtney appeared. With a sly grin, she deliberately shoved one of the bodyguards aside, creating an opening for Sienna. Seizing the chance, Sienna rushed toward the door, hoping this might be the moment she could hold her baby again.

But what she saw made her blood run cold.

Courtney was standing over the crib, her hands around the baby’s neck. Sienna’s heart raced. She didn’t think, only reacted. She lunged at Courtney, pushing her away with all her strength and scooping the baby into her arms.

“What are you doing?” Sienna screamed, her voice cracking with terror and fury.

Courtney blinked, momentarily stunned, before an eerie, malicious smile spread across her face. “Sienna, even if you save him once, it won’t matter. I’m Mrs. Morgan now. There’s no room for this little boy. I’ll make sure he doesn’t survive for long.”

Sienna’s stomach twisted as the realization hit her. “It was you… You poisoned the baby, didn’t you?”

Courtney’s smile grew wider, more sinister. “Yes. The little boy is lucky to be alive, but it’s just a matter of time. There will be plenty of chances, and I’ll make sure he dies. For good.”

"You... I need to tell Elijah," Sienna muttered, her voice shaking with urgency.

Courtney scoffed, her tone dismissive. "Go ahead. See if he believes you, a lunatic, or if he believes me. By the way, I heard he plans to send you to a mental hospital."

"You’re lying!" Sienna’s voice cracked with desperation. "He’ll believe me. I’m going to find him now."

Courtney’s laughter rang out, crazy and unsettling, sending a chill down Sienna’s spine. The sound lingered in her ears as she ran, clutching the baby tightly to her chest. She had to get the child away from Courtney, away from everything.

But Courtney didn’t chase her. Instead, Sienna heard her shout, her voice filled with malice. "Someone’s coming! The child is lost! Sienna took him!"

Elijah received the news as soon as he arrived at the hospital, his eyes burning with fury. His fists clenched. This woman—this liar—had stayed the night with another man and now she was stealing his child. What exactly was she trying to do?

Courtney rushed into his arms, clinging to him with feigned distress. "Elijah, it’s all my fault. I didn’t stop her."

Elijah barely glanced at her as he turned to find someone to help. His thoughts were consumed by Sienna, his mind clouded with confusion and rage.

It wasn’t long before they spotted her. She was standing at the bus stop, looking lost in thought.

"Sienna!" Elijah’s voice cut through the tension.

Her face lit up when she saw him. But just as she took a step forward, she froze, her eyes narrowing at Courtney who stood behind him. Sienna’s heart sank, and her steps faltered.

"Sienna, give me the child," Elijah said, his voice stern as he held out his hand.

Sienna shook her head and took a step back, her feet nearly stepping into the road. "No, Elijah. I can't give him to you. The woman you’re with—she’ll kill him."

Courtney’s expression twisted, and she feigned innocence. "Sienna, stop making things up. I can't even have a child of my own. Do you really think I’d harm him?"

Elijah’s gaze hardened. Ignoring their arguments, he took another step closer. "Sienna, give me the child. You’re unwell. You need to focus on getting better. Once you’re stable, you can see him again."

Unwell? Was he really going to send her to a mental hospital?

Distracted by his words, Sienna barely had time to react before he lunged forward and snatched the baby from her arms.

"Give him back!" Sienna cried out, her voice filled with panic. She reached for him, but he pushed her away with a harsh shove.

The impact sent Sienna stumbling backward. Her body collided with the speeding car that came out of nowhere.

Bang!

She soared through the air like a butterfly with its wings clipped, her body twisting helplessly before crashing to the ground with a sickening thud.

A violent tremor wracked her body, and she coughed up a mouthful of blood, staining the ground beneath her. The pain was unbearable, a searing agony that consumed her from within. Her vision blurred, everything around her turning into dark, indistinct shapes. She couldn’t see the figure rushing toward her.

Am I dying?