"Just give me a few more days."

When she returned to the hospital room, I had just ended the call.

She caught the faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips, something she hadn’t seen in a long time. For reasons she couldn’t explain, her chest tightened.

But she had already promised Knox she'd go with him to pick out a crib.

There was no time to ask who I had been talking to. Maybe she thought it was that cousin who dropped by from time to time. After all, ever since marrying her, I’d been left with no friends of my own.

Snatching up her documents, she turned without looking back and said coolly, "Milo, there’s something at the office. I’ll come again tomorrow."

Tomorrow came and went. So did the day after, and the day after that. But she never showed up.

Instead, through mutual friends, I kept receiving clips of her with Knox.

She brought him to parties, dinners, and high-profile events, like a girl newly in love, eager to parade her man before the world.

The day I was discharged from the hospital, she posted a nine-photo grid on social media.

At sunset, she stood atop a romantic hot air balloon, passionately kissing Knox.

I left a comment. [Wishing you both a lifetime of love and a baby on the way.]

Ten minutes later, she called.

I didn’t pick up.

Half an hour later, after handling the discharge alone, I passed by the entrance of the obstetrics department, only to see her and Knox standing there.

At the consultation desk, I overheard a young nurse say brightly, “Ms. Deveraux, your husband really dotes on you. He never lets you come alone. Even during your ultrasounds, he warms the coupling gel himself so it doesn’t feel cold on your belly.”

The mothers waiting nearby all looked on with envy.

For a fleeting moment, I thought we once had a child, too. But she had ended that pregnancy behind my back.

That very day, Knox sent me a voice message, “Giselle lost a bet to me. From now on, she’s only allowed to have children for me.”

I hadn’t even responded yet; not a minute later, she called.

No explanations. No questions.

Just curses. She called me petty. Unbelievably stupid.

And then she screamed, “Milo, a loser like you has no right to have children with me. If I ever do have a baby, it’ll be with someone with better genes!”

…

Snapping back to reality, I was about to walk away when she suddenly strode over, her face cold as ice.

“Why are you just standing there like an idiot?”

I lowered my gaze, instinctively trying to explain, “I wasn’t following you two. It really was just a coincidence. Sorry to bother you.”

“Wait.”

She frowned as she spoke, and I noticed a flicker of jealousy in Knox’s eyes.

Tightening his hold on her waist, Knox smiled and said, “Mr. Thatcher, I really appreciate your blood donation. Without you, I’d probably still be lightheaded. President Deveraux, why don’t we invite Mr. Thatcher to come home with us?”

She gave Knox a satisfied glance before replying, “The kindest man in the world, whatever you say, Knox.”

I had originally planned to grab my luggage and leave, so I didn’t object to his ‘kind’ invitation.

Inside the spacious black car, just as Knox had hoped, I soon spotted a lacy pair of women’s underwear wedged in a seat gap.

“Huh? This. Why is this still in the car? Giselle, I must’ve forgotten to take care of it.”

Knox looked flustered as he grabbed the panties, quickly tucking them into his inner pocket.

She playfully punched his chest a few times, all while subtly observing my reaction.

But when she saw that I wasn’t angry at all, that same sense of frustration she had felt back in the hospital room crept up on her once again.

“Milo, ever since you got in the car, you’ve been glued to your phone.”

Her voice cut through the air, sharp with jealousy.

“Were you chatting with your cousin again? Or someone else I don’t know?”

I had already booked my flight, and without responding, I turned off my phone.

“Just reading the news,” I replied.

Her displeasure deepened at my words, the furrow between her brows deepening.

Suddenly, she snatched the phone from my hands, demanding my password.

“It’s my birthday.”

Nine years of marriage, and yet she kept entering the simple six-digit code wrong, frustration creeping into her face until the phone locked itself, stubbornly refusing to unlock.

We rode in silence, the tension hanging between us, until we reached our destination.

As soon as the car stopped, her pregnancy nausea hit, and she let Knox help her upstairs to the master bedroom.

Knox, playing the role of the doting husband, ordered the chef to prepare all her favorite dishes.

When she came downstairs, she saw me walking toward the guest room, the sight of my solitary figure striking a chord in her.

For a moment, she hesitated, then turned to the chef and said, “Make two more dishes he usually eats. Set three places for dinner.”

Inside the guest room, I opened my luggage, only to find that my clothes had been slashed to shreds.

Thankfully, the passport and documents I’d tucked deep inside were still intact.

As I began to gather my things and prepare to leave, Knox suddenly blocked the door.

With a black bottle in hand, he looked me up and down with a sneer.

“Milo, I didn’t think you could be this shameless. You’ve become the laughingstock of the entire upper circle, publicly humiliated by me, and you still haven’t left?”

He scoffed, his eyes full of disdain.

“Then again, your old grandma from the Thatcher family passed away last month. Without that big backer, of course, you’re clinging to Miss Deveraux like she’s your only lifeline.”

A thought seemed to amuse him, and he grinned.

“Milo, remember the day you begged and cried for Miss Deveraux to send you to the hospital by helicopter just to see your grandma one last time? Do you know why she didn’t go?”

“Because she had already promised to watch the sunset with me at the beach.”

He held up his phone, showing me a photo.

“Look, this kissing photo was taken at that exact moment.”

I slapped his phone out of his hand and grabbed him by the throat; I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

The bottle in Knox’s hand slipped, and the harsh scent of gasoline hit me instantly.

In the chaos, panic took over, and Knox lit the spilled fuel.

Thick smoke erupted, and flames soon swallowed the room.

Having just been discharged from the hospital, my strength faltered, and I collapsed to the ground, struggling to breathe.

Then, I heard Giselle’s voice, “Milo!”

The sound of servants shouting followed, “Madam, it’s too dangerous! You can’t go in there! Please wait for the fire extinguishers!”

“Move! Milo is still inside!”

Without hesitation, she rushed into the flames.

What she didn’t expect was that Knox was still in there, too.

“Miss, help!”

Before Knox could finish, Giselle dashed toward him without a second thought.

She didn’t even glance at me, turning away without a second look.

Half an hour later, after soothing Knox, she searched the entire villa, but I was nowhere to be found.

At midnight, I stood at the airport.

After mailing a package, I boarded a flight to the UK, coughing all the while.

Just before takeoff, my phone buzzed. A text from Giselle appeared.

[I don’t have time to play hide and seek. Knox has a check-up tomorrow at 10 a.m. You’re coming too to get your lungs checked!]

I didn’t reply.

Instead, I pulled out the SIM card and powered off my phone for good.

Giselle, from that moment on, we were strangers forever.

The next day, at the hospital.

“Giselle, are you okay? Is the baby alright?”

Looking into Knox’s worried eyes, Giselle wrapped her arms around him, her voice soft and tender as she whispered.

"I'm fine. The doctor said the baby is healthy and completely unaffected by yesterday’s accident."

"That’s such a relief. I saw how serious you looked when we got to the hospital and how silent you were. I thought something was wrong with our baby."

Knox’s casual words froze Giselle for a moment.

Unintentionally, the image of me, standing in that blazing fire with cold indifference, flashed in her mind.

Frowning slightly, she opened her email inbox again, irritation growing as I still hadn’t replied, not even a word.

In the past, no matter how coldly she treated me, I had always answered her every request without hesitation.

But now, I had learned to play hard to get.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she accompanied Knox while he was discharged from the hospital, then headed straight for the company.

The moment she entered her office, her assistant’s voice cut through the air, "Your grandpa, Leonardo, has returned to the country and summoned all upper management to the No. 1 conference room for an urgent meeting."

Upon hearing this, Giselle turned and walked toward the meeting room, casually instructing her assistant as she went, "Get me a few sets of the latest suits and watches."

The assistant quickly responded, "Yes, President Deveraux. I’ll arrange it and have them delivered straight to Assistant Remington’s place."

Giselle paused, pinching the bridge of her nose. "No, send them to the Thatcher Grand Residence."

In her mind, since I left the villa, the Thatcher family home was the only place she figured I could possibly be staying.

A week later, late at night.

After finally wrapping up a project, Giselle returned home and found a figure curled up on the living room sofa like a shrimp.

"Milo, how many times have I told you? I’ll come home when I’m done with work. You don’t need to…"

But as she drew closer and realized it was Knox, the sneer on her lips stopped mid-sentence.

Under her cold stare, Knox couldn’t help but shiver. His expression was a mix of hurt and pleading.

"Giselle... he... he still hasn’t come back. I’ve sent him so many apology messages, but he’s ignored all of them. Maybe I should just move out?"

Seeing the hurt in Knox’s eyes, Giselle’s heart softened. She wrapped her arms around him in a comforting embrace.

She planted a half-hearted kiss on his cheek and gently whispered, urging him to take care of himself, not to overthink things.

"Whether Milo accepts it or not, from now on, this is your home."

Half an hour later, dressed in a robe, Giselle stood alone on the open-air balcony, a cigarette dangling from her fingers.

She knew better than to smoke while pregnant, but tonight, she couldn’t seem to help herself.

Almost without thinking, her fingers slid across her phone screen until her eyes landed on my name at the very bottom of her contacts list.

Her thumb hovered over the call button for what felt like an eternity.

After finishing two cigarettes, she finally made her decision. Instead of calling, she typed a warning message.

[Milo, tomorrow is Grandpa’s 80th birthday. Don’t even think about pulling any stunts at the banquet. Don’t embarrass me or Knox.]

On Grandpa Leonardo’s birthday, Giselle arrived in grand fashion, Knox by her side. Together, they looked every bit the inseparable couple.

It wasn’t until Grandpa Leonardo made his grand entrance that Giselle finally released Knox’s hand. She walked over to stand beside the old man, assisting him in greeting the important guests.

“Why didn’t Milo come with you?”

Grandpa Leonardo’s sharp question hung in the air. For once, Knox pressed his lips into a thin line, his voice calm but steady as he spoke up in my defense.

“Sorry, Grandpa. Milo’s been busy preparing the gift these past few days. He’s exhausted, so I told him to rest a bit and come later.”

Two hours flew by in a blur.

The birthday banquet reached its peak, the moment everyone had been waiting for: the gift-giving ceremony.

And yet, I still hadn’t shown up.

Suppressing the unease that gnawed at her, Giselle stepped into a quiet corner and pulled out her phone, dialing my number.

“The number you dialed is currently unavailable…”

Her frustration flared, but she dialed again, only to be met with the cold, mechanical tone of a busy line.

At that moment, a deliveryman entered the banquet hall, his presence unnoticed until he brought forward the three gifts I had sent.

Grandpa Leonardo smiled warmly as he opened the first gift. Inside was a beautifully embroidered Hundred Gods Longevity Scroll that looked so real, it almost seemed alive.

It was clear to anyone that it had taken me months to create, each stitch made with careful precision.

Moved, Grandpa Leonardo gently lifted the second gift.

Inside lay the heirloom gem, once given to me by the Deveraux family’s grandmother when I married Giselle.

As the gem caught the light, the room fell into a hushed silence.

In high society, returning such a treasured heirloom spoke volumes; everyone understood its significance without a word.

Before Grandpa Leonardo could react, Giselle’s face darkened, her expression as cold as stone.

She silently clenched her fists and moved toward the third gift.

Just as I had anticipated, her face remained frozen, her eyes hard as she lifted the lid of the final box.