The temporary family units at the center weren't big—there was only a bedroom and a living room—but at least they were clean and quiet.

On the walk over from the main building, Ian trailed me like a tall, silent watchtower. He was never more than a step away from me. His eyes stayed locked on me, as if he feared that I'd vanish into thin air the second he looked away.

As soon as we stepped inside, things went strangely quiet.

Ian didn't sit down. Instead, he started pacing around the apartment. His cold, hard face didn't show much, but his gaze was razor-sharp, like he was running some kind of high-risk security sweep.

Very quickly, he went out to the balcony and came back with a couple of discarded cardboard sheets and a pair of scissors. He half-squatted on the floor and silently started cutting.

I was wondering what he was doing when I saw him pick up the curved pieces of the cardboard. He walked over to the sharp corners of the coffee table and the edge of the cabinets. One by one, he carefully taped the cardboard on, layer after layer, forming a makeshift bumper on every pointy corner.

He couldn't talk because his throat was wrecked, so he could only use this clumsy way of quietly checking every single thing in the room I might bump into.

[Wow. Even if Dummy Daddy's memories are scrambled, his instinct to love you hasn't changed one bit, Mommy!]

In my head, my baby boy's voice finally lost that earlier sharpness and turned soft again. [In my last life, after I was gone, Daddy did the same thing. He stayed up late, wrapping all the sharp corners in the house one by one, crying while he did it.

[Mommy, don't let his cold face fool you. He's even walking on tiptoe around you right now because he's afraid of startling you.]

Looking at Ian's tall back as he half-crouched on the floor, the nerves I'd pulled tight all day suddenly and inexplicably loosened a little.

When he finished the last corner, he stood up and walked to the table to pour a glass of warm water. He brought the glass over to me and held it out.

His eyes stared deep into mine. His Adam's apple bobbed hard a couple of times, like he was trying to force some words out. But in the end, nothing was said.

Ian frowned in frustration, and the tips of his ears quietly flushed red. He just awkwardly pushed the glass into my hands, insisting that I take it.

I took the water and sipped at it slowly. He stood beside me with his back straight, looking like a loyal guard dutifully guarding his post.

However, peace was usually just a brief reprieve before the storm broke.

…

Early the next morning, our short-lived warmth was shattered by a knock at the door.

The person at the door wasn't from some expert task force here to drag anyone away. It was Mr. Jackson, the director of the international crisis response firm where Ian worked. Jessica was behind him.

"Ms. Jewell, I'm sorry to bother you." Mr. Jackson's expression was grim, and he held a folder in his hand. "Because you suddenly showed up yesterday, Captain Goldman's heart rate and other metrics spiked in a highly abnormal way.

"Also… we received a call this morning from his mother—your mother-in-law—back in their hometown. She sent over a video and a signed statement."

My heart sank. I had a bad feeling about this.

Jessica pushed her glasses up her nose and said in a flat, businesslike tone, "In the video, your mother-in-law clearly states that in the first month after Captain Goldman went missing, you took 80,000 dollars in death compensation and started preparing to marry Jim Lane, who lived next door. As for the baby you're carrying… the father is questionable."

"That's nonsense! I never took any money, nor would I ever marry anyone else!" I shook all over with rage.

"The firm will investigate what really happened. But right now, to stabilize his condition, Captain Goldman has to go for a routine evaluation," Mr. Jackson said, with a sigh.

Ian couldn't follow all the complicated back-and-forth, but he sensed the threat on instinct. He moved to stand in front of me, shielding me as he glared straight at Jessica.

"Ian." Mr. Jackson pressed a hand down on his shoulder, his voice turning sharp. "Follow orders. It's just a checkup."

The word "orders" hit Ian like a branding iron. His whole body went rigid.

He turned to give me a long look; his eyes were full of unease. But in the end, he still let them lead him away.

There was no way I could just sit there. Supporting my baby bump, I hurried after them to the Memory Rehabilitation Department.

Through the observation window in the door of the evaluation room, I saw something that made me see red.

There were no high-tech machines inside at all. All Jessica had done was set a digital tablet down in front of Ian. On its screen, a recording of my mother-in-law, Molly Ward's shrill, venomous voice played on a loop.

"Ian, don't let that wretch fool you! She already took the death compensation your firm gave and used it to get an abortion. Now that she's back with that baby in her womb, who knows which random guy knocked her up? She just sees you're still alive and wants you to play daddy to someone else's kid!" Molly's voice rang out shrilly.

Ian stared fixedly at the screen, his already scrambled memories thrown into complete chaos. He clutched his head in agony, cold sweat trickling down his face in big drops.

"Captain Goldman, deep breaths." Jessica's gentle voice slithered into his ears like a venomous snake. "This is your mother talking. She wouldn't lie to you. The woman you see now is no longer the wife you remember. Forget her. Don't let her trigger you…"

I couldn't hold back anymore and kicked the evaluation room door open. "What the hell is wrong with you, Jessica? You call this therapy when you're using some cherry-picked garbage to provoke him?"

My eyes burned red as I stormed in and grabbed the digital tablet off the table, hurling it straight to the floor. The screen shattered into a spray of glass.

"Ms. Jewell, you're out of line!" Jessica shot to her feet, righteously throwing herself in front of Ian like a human shield. "This is real evidence provided by Captain Goldman's family! For his safety, I went behind Mr. Jackson's back and requested a special security detail.

"If you can't prove the child's paternity, then I need you to immediately sign this 'No-Contact Agreement' and leave the care center!"

The medical personnel and security guards outside had heard the commotion and rushed over. Their eyes landed on me, now tinged with suspicion and gossip. After all, a "personal accusation" from Molly was lethal.

I ignored everyone else and just locked my gaze on Ian, who was slumped in his chair. The second he saw me, the pain in his eyes deepened. Molly's lies, Jessica's insinuations, and the real me standing right in front of him were tearing his mind apart.

He hurt so badly that he toppled off his chair, his whole body slick with cold sweat. He tried desperately to reach for me, but the more frantic he became, the less he could form actual words.

He mustered all his strength, but only a few broken syllables made it out. "No… not… Sof… stop…"

"Did you all hear that?" Jessica instantly raised her voice, cutting him off, looking at me triumphantly. "Even in his subconscious, Captain Goldman is saying that you're 'not' his wife. He's telling you to 'stop' forcing him!"

The whispers around us grew louder. Under a barrage of doubtful, judging stares, those fragmented words, twisted on purpose, became the most fatal blow to me.

"Fine. Fine!"

I let out a bitter laugh, the crushing humiliation burning out into cold despair. I snatched the "No-Contact Agreement" off the table, crumpled it into a ball, and hurled it straight at Jessica's face.

The very next second, a sharp, brutal pain stabbed through my lower abdomen without warning. My face drained of all color in an instant, and my knees buckled. My body went limp as I pitched toward the floor.

Instantly, my son's terrified, broken voice filled my mind. [Mommy! There's blood! I don't feel good… It hurts so much, Mommy… Help me… Dummy Daddy! If you still don't speak up, both Mommy and I are gonna die!]

A vivid streak of red slowly spread from under my dress and seeped across the floor. My consciousness began to fade…

"Sofia!"

That roar tore through every layer of pretense and confusion. It was no longer a shattered whisper or a tangled murmur.

Right before my body hit the ground, a pair of strong arms swept me up and pulled me tight against a solid chest. I felt hot tears splashing onto my face. A hoarse yet loud voice was the last thing I heard before everything went black.

"Doctor! Where's the doctor? Somebody save my wife!"