In the next moment, Stacy was shoved forcefully by Anna. The items she had been holding flew out of her hands, scattering to the ground with a loud clatter.

A girl quickly stepped forward to help her up. Stacy looked at the face—one she knew far too well. She had seen it countless times in photos in Pat’s room, a face she could never forget.

"Are you okay?" The girl asked, her voice soft and gentle.

Anna threw Stacy a disdainful glare, her irritation evident. But before she could say anything, the girl tightened her grip on Stacy's hand and spoke with enthusiasm.

“You’re Stacy, aren’t you? I didn’t expect to run into you here! Pat talks about you often. He mentioned that you’re an excellent pianist. I’m having a birthday party next week—would you consider performing?”

She was beautiful, elegant, and carried an air of nobility. This was clearly the kind of person Pat admired. Stacy could barely process her words. Her mind buzzed with a single, overwhelming thought: So this is the kind of woman Pat truly wants.

Before the girl could finish speaking, Stacy shoved some cash at the clerk and bolted out of the store, her panic mounting with every step.

Her sudden departure might not have mattered to others, but it set Anna on edge. Later that evening, fueled by Tara’s dramatic account of the encounter, Anna stormed into Pat’s office to confront him.

Inside, Anna’s voice rang out, sharp and accusatory. “Pat, didn’t you promise me you’d stop entertaining the idea of marrying her? You don’t even like her, so why are you still involved with her?”

Pat rubbed his temples, already frustrated. “Mom, what are you even talking about? I’m busy, and I told you not to show up here unannounced.”

Anna’s face twisted in disbelief. “Stacy was at a maternity store today, buying baby clothes! Tara said she might be pregnant. Don’t tell me you don’t know about this!”

Pat stiffened, his voice flat. “That’s impossible, Mom. There’s nothing between us anymore. Stop jumping to conclusions.”

Still skeptical, Anna pulled out her phone and shoved it toward him, showing him a photo. The moment Pat saw it, he shot to his feet, grabbing his coat without a word.

Anna followed close behind, her thoughts spinning. Judging by his reaction, it seemed clear that he had no idea about Stacy’s situation.

“Good,” Anna muttered, almost to herself. “It’s not yours. I knew it. Stacy is nothing but an ungrateful girl. She’s probably hooked up with someone else and tried to pin it on you!”

Her voice rose as she continued. “Tara’s friend saw her at the hospital several times. Imagine, a young girl pregnant out of wedlock! She’s indecent and shameless. There’s no way we can let someone like that into our Taylor family.”

Pat’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles white as his anger burned hotter with every word Anna uttered. By the time they reached Stacy’s apartment—a drive that should’ve taken thirty minutes but was done in ten—his fury was barely contained.

The doorbell rang urgently. Stacy, assuming it was someone from the furniture recycling company, opened the door without hesitation. She froze when she saw Pat’s stormy expression.

Anna pushed past her, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she looked around the modest apartment.

“What’s going on?” Stacy asked, her gaze shifting warily between them.

Pat stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room, noting the packed bags scattered across the floor. “Are you moving?”

Stacy gave a casual nod, confused by the tension in the air.

The anger in Pat’s expression deepened. Before Stacy could process his reaction, Anna’s sharp voice cut through the silence.

“Look at her, Pat! Stacy’s got everything planned for her shameless little adventure. She’s probably hoping some unsuspecting fool will take her in! Do you really think anyone else in Hamilton would want a girl like her? And now, pregnant on top of it all!”

Those words clicked something into place for Stacy. Anna’s behavior, the accusations—it all made sense now.

Pat’s voice was low and strained as he spoke, his emotions barely restrained. “Stacy, when did this start?”

Stacy let out a bitter laugh, finding the situation almost absurd. “I have nothing to say.”

Pat’s temper snapped. He grabbed her wrist with more force than necessary, his eyes blazing. “You’d better not let me find out who he is.”

The pain in her wrist was sharp, but Stacy remained silent, her face stoic. If he wanted to jump to conclusions, let him. She’d tried explaining herself before, but it had never mattered. He had still turned his back on her, throwing her out of the Taylor family.

So why should she explain now?

Anna pulled her son closer, gently patting his back as if to console him. “Alright, if she’s determined to throw her life away, no one can stop her. But from now on, Stacy, you’re forbidden from using the Taylor family name to your advantage.”

“I’ll arrange for someone to send you money later,” Anna continued, her tone sharp but matter-of-fact. “It’s the least I can do to honor your grandfather’s wishes.”

Stacy’s lips curved into a faint, bitter smile. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but her voice remained steady as she softly shook her head. “Thank you, Taylor family, for the five years of care. But I don’t want Grandpa’s money. You can keep it. Please leave.”

When Stacy turned away, she discreetly wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. She didn’t look back but heard Pat’s furious roar behind her.

“Stacy, don’t even think about it! You’re staying in the Taylor family, whether you like it or not. You’re mine, and no one in Canada would dare touch you!”

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the room, and silence quickly followed. Without the heating turned on, the space was bitterly cold. Stacy crouched on the floor, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth.

That evening, Stacy received a call from the hospital. Macey wasn’t expected to survive the night.

By Macey’s bedside, the same question came up again. Stacy’s answer, as always, was unwavering.

A pale, fragile smile crossed Macey’s face, tears mixing with her laughter. It was Halloween, and the world outside bustled with lively festivities. But inside the ward, the quiet was oppressive. Stacy stayed at her side, watching helplessly as Macey’s life slipped away.

Her passing marked the end of everything Stacy had known in Canada.

After the funeral, Stacy booked her plane ticket.

Before leaving, she sent Pat one final message.

She asked to meet him at the cemetery. When she left her apartment, the rain was pouring heavily. Dressed in a black coat, Stacy carried offerings and a bouquet of flowers adorned with lollipops. She emphasized in her message that this meeting was important and urged him to come.

But when she arrived at the cemetery, there was no sign of him.

Stacy stood in the rain, waiting. The downpour soaked her shoes and seeped through her coat, the cold biting into her skin. Her eyes mirrored the chill, growing distant and hollow as time passed.

With only two hours left before her flight, she was about to send a follow-up message when Pat finally called.

She answered, placing the call on speaker.

“Stacy, couldn’t we have just talked about this over the phone?” His voice was casual, even cheerful.

Her expression darkened. “So, you’re not coming?”

“Oh, right,” Pat replied lightly. “I forgot to tell you. It’s Christmas, and I’m celebrating with Tara and Sandra Wiley. Let’s talk later tonight after dinner, okay?”

In the background, someone called his name, their tone affectionate. Stacy replied with a faint “yes” and hung up the call.

She turned her attention to the tombstone in front of her, where photos of her parents were displayed. This was a place she often visited to pay her respects.

She set the bouquet beside a small flower bed near the tombstone and pulled a small safety charm from her bag, attaching it gently to the grave marker.

“Baby, you would’ve been one year old today,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Time flies, doesn’t it? I’m sorry, but Mom won’t be able to visit you anymore. At least you won’t be lonely, with Grandpa and Grandma there to keep you company.”

Her tone turned bitter as she continued, “I wanted you to see your father, to make sure you’d know to avoid him in your next life. But he didn’t come. At least you heard his voice. That’s enough. Remember, don’t ever cross paths with him again.”

The unborn child was the third victim of the car accident.

Stacy often regretted what had happened, though part of her also felt relief. The baby had been a mistake born of Pat’s fleeting affection, and fate had simply taken back what was never hers to begin with.

She wiped the rain from the flower bed with her sleeve, then placed her umbrella on top of it. Turning back to the cold stone, she ran her fingers over its surface.

“Dad, Mom, Macey’s gone now,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “I know you must be as heartbroken as I am. But don’t worry. I’ll live on—for her, for all of us. You’ll support me, won’t you?”

Her hand lingered on the stone for a moment before she pulled away. “Goodbye. Take care of each other.”

As she left the cemetery, the rain began to let up.

On the drive to the airport, the city’s vibrant Christmas decorations came into view. Neon lights from the street shops sparkled, and elaborately adorned Christmas trees lined the roads, their tiny lights twinkling in celebration.

Pat was likely seated in a high-end restaurant, basking in the warmth of the festive season.

At the airport, Stacy made a call. Her expression softened into a smile that felt like a long-lost treasure.

Afterward, she swapped out her phone card, boarded her flight, and disappeared completely.