"Kinsley, are you sure you want to go schedule an abortion?"

Kinsley Moore's fingers curled, gripping tightly before she gave a slow nod.

Rowan Hudson, her university classmate, hesitated before speaking again.

"Your body is different. If you go through with this abortion, you might never be able to have children again."

"And when are you planning to tell him about the brain tumor?"

Kinsley stiffened for a moment before forcing a smile. Bitterness clung to her expression as she looked up.

"Do you think he’d want this child? The weight of his father’s death still stands between us. He wants me to make amends for it for the rest of my life. If I insist on keeping this baby, it wouldn’t be fair to him."

"As for the tumor, I know what I’m doing. Don’t forget, I’m a doctor too."

The moment the words left her lips, an eerie stillness settled over the hospital room. The cold seemed to seep into the air itself.

Rowan sighed. "Alright. Once your body stabilizes, I’ll arrange the surgery."

Kinsley straightened, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

Without another word, she turned and walked away.

Her phone buzzed relentlessly in her palm, the vibrations so constant it felt like the device was trembling in her grasp.

The moment she answered, a sharp voice exploded in her ear.

"I believe I told you! Your phone must be on and reachable at all times, Kinsley."

Leaning against the wall, Kinsley’s lips turned slightly pale. Her voice was soft, almost fragile.

"Sorry, my phone died."

"I just stepped out to see Mom. I’ll be back soon."

On the other end, Enzo Keller’s voice turned even colder, laced with the unmistakable slur of alcohol.

"Come home."

With those two words, the line went dead.

Kinsley clutched her bag, exhaling slowly before leaving the hospital. She had no choice.

She rushed back to the Keller residence as fast as she could, only to find the house empty. Enzo wasn’t there.

After asking the servants, she learned the reason. Today was Quinn Finnegan’s birthday and he had gone early to celebrate with her.

A quiet sigh of relief slipped past Kinsley’s lips. Without another thought, she turned toward the stairs, intending to rest.

But the front door was thrown open just as she placed her foot on the first step.

Quinn stepped into view, supporting a completely drunk Enzo.

"Enzo is wasted and no one else dared to go near him, so I had to bring him back myself."

"Miss Moore, please don’t misunderstand."

Yet, even as she spoke, she leaned in closer, pressing against Enzo’s side. The deliberate tilt of her head, the satisfied gleam in her eyes. It was all an unspoken provocation, daring Kinsley to react.

The Kinsley from before would have snapped back without hesitation.

The entire city of Ashford had known her temper, sharp, unyielding, but now, things had changed.

Standing a meter away, she felt a dull ache in her abdomen. Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, but instead of lashing out, she merely smiled, her voice gentle.

"Of course not. Thank you for bringing him back."

Quinn’s expression flickered, clearly dissatisfied with the lack of reaction. Just as she opened her mouth to push further, Enzo suddenly stirred. His drunken eyes cracked open, his voice hoarse and laced with impatience.

"She’s nothing more than a servant in this house. What’s with the attitude of a lady of the house?"

"Make me a bowl of hangover soup."

A nearby servant instinctively stepped forward, but Enzo lifted a hand, stopping them.

His fingers curled slightly as he pointed straight at Kinsley.

"You do it."

"Miss Moore, don’t tell me you can’t even manage a simple bowl of hangover soup?"

The words landed like blows, sinking deep into her chest.

Kinsley took a slow breath before turning toward the kitchen without a word.

Watching her retreating figure, Quinn felt a rush of satisfaction wash over her.

Once upon a time, everyone had compared her to Kinsley. And every time, she had come up short.

Even Enzo, the boy she had known since childhood, had once been utterly devoted to her.

But now, everything had changed.

The Moore Family had fallen, Moore Corporation was no longer a name that carried weight in Ashford. Now, the city belonged to the Keller Family.

Time passed in silence as Kinsley finished making the hangover soup. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, her voice soft but steady.

"It’s ready. Do you want to drink it now or wait until it cools?"

Enzo barely spared it a glance before reaching out. Without hesitation, he swept the bowl to the floor.

Porcelain shattered against the tiles, the sharp fragments scattering like fallen glass. A few jagged pieces cut into Kinsley’s calf, bright red seeping down her skin in thin, glistening trails.

For a split second, Enzo’s gaze flickered, but he said nothing.

Kinsley didn’t flinch. As if she felt nothing at all, she crouched down, quietly picking up the shards before turning back to the kitchen.

Watching his indifference, Quinn leaned in, her voice laced with amusement as she draped herself against his shoulder.

"Why don’t we just make her my servant? I could use one at home."

The words barely left her lips before Enzo shot her a cold look. The playful smirk on her face stiffened instantly.

"You should go. I’ll consider the project in Rainier Bay."

A clear dismissal.

Quinn hesitated but knew better than to argue. She left without another word.

Kinsley, oblivious to her departure, continued moving like a machine, her hands repeating the same empty motions.

She didn’t hear the footsteps approaching behind her.

Didn’t notice until warmth pressed against her back.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against a familiar frame. The scent of alcohol lingered in the air, but the grip around her abdomen trembled slightly.

She stiffened.

Uncomfortable, she tried to pull away, but Enzo didn’t let go. His voice, hoarse yet strangely steady, brushed against her ear.

"Kinsley, when did you become like this?"

"Kinsley, give me a child."

Kinsley abruptly pushed him away, her entire body trembling like a leaf caught in a storm.

For a fleeting moment, she wanted to tell him the truth, that she was already carrying his child.

But the brutal reality twisted like a dagger in her heart, dragging her into the depths of despair. Her voice came out sharp, edged with madness.

"Enzo, I’m atoning for my father’s sins. How could we possibly have a child?"

"You would become the target of public scorn. They would drown you in their contempt."

"Someone like me isn’t even worthy of being a mother."

A cold, self-deprecating laugh slipped past her lips as her clear, desolate eyes met his abyss-like gaze.

Enzo’s jaw tensed, his fists clenching at his sides. When he finally spoke, his voice was laced with biting indifference.

"At least you have some self-awareness."

He stepped back, putting distance between them and without hesitation, he handed her a wedding invitation.

Kinsley took it, her fingers trembling as she unfolded the delicate paper.

Her gaze fell on the bride’s name—Quinn.

At that moment, memories surged like an unforgiving tide.

Once, she had held a wedding invitation just like this.

Once, her name had been there.

But time had passed. And there was no going back.

The bubbling of the soup on the stove broke the suffocating silence, pulling Kinsley from her daze. Slowly, she turned off the heat.

Enzo’s gaze lingered on her for a second, two seconds, before he turned away and strode upstairs.

Kinsley remained crouched on the ground, unmoving. The night stretched on, swallowing her whole.

Her head throbbed as if it might split apart, but she clenched her teeth and swallowed the pain in silence.

Her lips, bitten raw, seeped with blood and a dull ache coiled in her lower abdomen.

Dazed, she drifted into the past.

Back when Enzo’s father was still alive, they had already begun planning their wedding.

She still remembered the first time they met at a lively gathering in their youth. For Kinsley, it had been love at first sight.

And Enzo had felt the same.

That night, he had sat beside her, murmuring her name over and over as if engraving it into his soul.

Her hand had pressed against her chest, trying to steady the wild rhythm of her heart.

They had been happy once.

Until everything crumbled the night before their wedding.

She could still hear the desperate tremor in her mother’s voice, raw with panic.

“Kinsley, come home quickly! Something terrible has happened!”

Fear had seized her, but she hadn’t wasted a second. She had tried to call Enzo, but his phone remained unanswered.

By the time she reached home, a bloodied figure lay motionless on the ground.

She had shoved her way through the gathering crowd, only to stop dead in her tracks, her body frozen, her breath stolen by the sight before her.

Her mother clung to her, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Kinsley, talk to Enzo, please! Don’t let them send your father to prison!”

Her mind went blank. The words barely registered, drowned out by the chaos swirling around her.

Before she could make sense of anything, an ambulance arrived, sirens wailing and took the injured man away.

And then, she saw him.

Enzo stood there, his gaze piercingly cold, steeped in disappointment and something far worse, helplessness.

Her steps felt like lead as she forced herself forward, lips parting, yet no words came out.

His fingers dug into her shoulders.

“Kinsley, your father committed a crime and now you want mine to take the fall?”

His voice was laced with disbelief, with fury, with an ache she could not name.

Before she could respond, another figure broke through the crowd: his mother.

“You are the daughter of a murderer! I will never let you step foot into my house!”