Chapter 3.

Emily POV

I was woken up by the phone ringing.

The hospital room was empty. I numbly picked up the phone, and James's mother Gemma's shrill voice nearly pierced my eardrums:

"Emily, today is your day of reflection! You had three stillbirths in a row and you dare to run out? Get your ass back here right now!"

I pulled at the corner of my mouth:

"About the children, you should ask James."

The voice on the other end paused:

"You... you already know?"

I didn't listen any further and hung up directly.

The phone slipped from my palm and hit the edge of the bed hard.

A sour, aching pain slowly spread through my chest.

So she had known the truth all along.

Yet she let me bear the blame, even forced me to repent.

After clutching my chest for a while, I called the station director:

"Director, I'm willing to go undercover abroad to investigate the cross-border surrogacy and illegal baby trafficking industry."

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, then came the director's surprised and delighted voice:

"Really, Emily? When you gave up that assignment for James years ago to stay home, I always felt it was such a waste. But you know this job is extremely dangerous - from now on you'll have to completely change your identity. Are you sure you've thought this through?"

"Yes, I've thought it through."

My voice was soft but without a trace of hesitation:

"But Director, I'd like to ask you for a favor."

My other hand fumbled in my pocket and pulled out a tiny camera.

Years of instinct as an investigative journalist made me carry it wherever I went.

It had recorded everything that happened at the hospital that day - clear images, distinct audio.

My fingertips gently rubbed its surface.

I would go myself and get the justice I deserved.

......

On the day I was discharged, I took a taxi back to the villa.

James wasn't home - probably with Xanthe and the child.

I pulled out my suitcase and started packing what I needed to leave the country.

When I opened the nightstand drawer, a velvet box suddenly caught my eye.

I paused, then reached out to open it.

A diamond ring lay quietly in the center of the velvet, dazzlingly brilliant.

This was the pink diamond that caused a sensation back then, rare worldwide. James had spared no expense to bid on it, then knelt on one knee before me, his eyes filled with what I once thought was undying tenderness:

"Only the best ring is worthy of my wife."

Next to the box was a black leather diary.

I casually opened it, and dense handwriting leaped out at me - all James's entries.

"Today Emily made me porridge. It was a bit burnt, but I think it's the best thing in the whole world."

"Emily is afraid of the dark. From now on, wherever I go, I'll hold her hand and never let her be alone again."

"When I see her smile, I suddenly feel like the whole world lights up."

.....

Page after page, line after line, all filled with deep affection from the past, all the tender promises he had written with his own hand.

But looking at them now, they just seemed incredibly ironic.

That wholehearted love could change just like that, those unforgettable vows could be forgotten in an instant.

I didn't read any more. I put the ring and diary back in the drawer exactly as they were and pushed it shut hard.

Just as I finished packing and loaded the car, James came home.

He looked at the obviously emptier house and frowned:

"Why is so much stuff missing?"

"I threw away some unimportant things."

James didn't suspect anything. He lowered his head and looked at my obviously pale face:

"That day at the hospital, I had no choice. Weiwei's health is fragile, and the child is so small. Plus, if it really blew up, it wouldn't be good for you or the Smith family's reputation."

Seeing I didn't respond, he paused and continued:

"Today is the child's birthday. Xanthe said that since you're the biological mother after all, she wanted to invite you to the banquet hall together."

My fingertips trembled.

After all, this was the child I carried for ten months and gave birth to. Before I left, I still wanted to celebrate their birthday one last time.

Inside the hall, lights blazed and guests filled the room. Aiden and Chase wore exquisite little suits, sitting obediently beside Xanthe.

James walked over quickly, ruffled the two children's hair, and said something in a low voice that made all three of them laugh.

It was so warmly intimate it was blinding, as if I were just an outsider who had barged in.

I clenched my palms and quietly turned around, going to the kitchen to personally make a bowl of longevity noodles.

Carrying the warm pasta, I walked step by step toward them. Aiden looked up, strong disgust flashing in his eyes, then raised his hand and knocked the bowl over.

The scalding soup splashed on my wrist, instantly turning a large area red.

Aiden frowned, his tone full of contempt and hatred:

"I won't eat anything you make! Who knows if you poisoned it to hurt me and Mom!"

Chase nodded along:

"That's right! We won't eat what you make. Mom's cake tastes much better!"

Xanthe played peacemaker on the side, but her eyes were full of provocation:

"Emily, the children were scared by you at the hospital that day. Get along with them better from now on - you're still their aunt."

Those words stabbed my heart like needles. I was about to speak when suddenly there came urgent footsteps from outside, accompanied by a servant's panicked shouts:

"Oh no, there's a fire! The kitchen is on fire, and the flames are spreading to the banquet hall!"

I instinctively wanted to take the two children and run. I had just grabbed their wrists when they violently shook me off:

"Don't touch me!"

I fell heavily to the ground. When I looked up again, flames were already licking at the doorway.

Through the thick smoke, a pair of slender hands reached toward me. I tremblingly extended my hand, but in the next moment, those hands pulled Xanthe beside me away.

James held both children with one arm and pulled Xanthe with the other hand, running outside quickly and urgently.

He didn't even look back at me in the sea of fire, as if I were just some insignificant piece of junk.

When I woke up again, my whole body felt like it had been taken apart and put back together. Every movement brought piercing pain.

James was keeping watch by the bed. Seeing me open my eyes, his Adam's apple bobbed heavily, his voice extremely hoarse:

"Emily, I'm sorry. The smoke was too thick at the time - I didn't see you."

Looking at his bowed head and pained expression, my stomach churned.

How fake, how utterly disgusting!

I had originally planned to just leave quietly, but now I couldn't stand being tied to him for even one more moment.

My tone was calm as I said seriously:

"James, let's get divorced."