His brow furrowed, and the abrupt ring of his phone pulled him aside.

Megan moved closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, eyes gleaming with malice.

"Leslie, I have to admit, you're tougher than I thought. Here you are, the laughingstock of every society page in New York, and you still won't leave."

“Leslie… remember the day you cried and begged Mark to fly you in a helicopter to see your grandmother one last time?

Do you know why he refused?” She deliberately drew out the words, savoring the provocation.

“Because that day, he promised to take me to watch the sunset at the beach.

See? This is the seaside restaurant I’ve always wanted to try. He went with me. See? Here's a photo from the restaurant. He took me there while your grandmother took her last breath."

In that instant, it felt as though an icy hand had clamped around my heart.

With a sharp motion, I knocked Megan’s phone from her hand, rage burning through me.

I grabbed her by the collar, unable to hold back anymore.

In the struggle, Megan shoved me toward the nearby tree.

I tumbled down, branches scraping across my shoulders and arms, the sting of pain making me groan involuntarily.

I gritted my teeth, supporting myself, the ache leaving me momentarily speechless.

Then I heard a familiar voice:

“Leslie!”

He came running, my heart stirring at the sight of him.

But the next moment, he froze. His eyes landed on Megan, kneeling on the ground, clutching her abdomen.

"Mark... help me... the baby..."

Before she could finish, Mark bent down and scooped her into his arms, his expression taut with urgency.

I stood there, dazed, my shoulder pierced by the branch, pain shooting through me like needles, my chest tight as if I could hardly breathe.

The house manager rushed over. "Mrs. Donovan, Mrs. Donovan! You’re bleeding—we need to get you to the hospital—”

I shook my head, forcing myself to rise despite the pain, staggering toward the driveway alone.

Hearing that I was bleeding, Mark's retreating figure suddenly froze. His brow furrowed sharply, and he spun around, striding toward me with quick, urgent steps. His eyes filled with concern as they landed on the blood soaking through my shoulder, his hand reaching out almost instinctively.

But in that exact moment, the servants' gazes shifted in unison toward Megan—she was clutching her abdomen, her face deathly pale, doubled over in pain. Urgent whispers flitted through the air:

“She’s bleeding too much, this isn’t right.”

“A pregnant woman bleeding! She needs to get to the hospital immediately!”

The cacophony pierced Mark’s heart. His gaze flickered for a fraction of a second, his body frozen. Then, with jaw clenched, he pivoted sharply toward Megan, shouting over his shoulder without even glancing at me:

“Leslie, don’t move. I’m taking her to the hospital first.”

Without another word, without a backward glance, he bent down and lifted Megan into his arms, disappearing in the direction of the driveway.

A wave of dizziness crashed over me. Pain and blood intertwined in my mind, and my vision blurred at the edges. My body went limp, consciousness slipping away.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on a bed in the medical room. The house manager stood beside me, his face etched with worry.

"Mrs. Donovan, you were injured. Are you all right?"

I shook my head, my voice weak but steady.

"I'm fine. I can take care of myself."

"Don't worry. I can get home on my own. I just... need some time to clear my head."

The pain in my shoulder stabbed through muscle and bone like needles. I rubbed the wound gently and pushed myself up, heading toward the door. Using my injury and exhaustion as an excuse, I refused the manager's offer to escort me home. Instead, under the cover of night, I slipped quietly out of the medical room.

The night wind hit my face, cold and biting. I took a deep breath, gritting my teeth against the sharp pain in my shoulder, and started the car. Slowly, I drove down the long driveway, my mind replayed everything in relentless loops: blood, agony, betrayal, and the moment he chose to save her first.

That same night.

After staying by Megan’s side for hours, Mark searched the entire estate, but I was nowhere to be found. He turned to the house manager for answers. The butler simply told him: I had left the medical room by myself.

By the time he realized it, I was already at JFK, boarding a flight to London.

My phone buzzed with a text from Mark:

Leslie, Megan had a severe hemorrhage. This is all your fault. I hope you reflect on your actions in the hospital. Stop being so selfish.

I didn't reply.

Mark, from this moment forward, you and I are done.

Forever.