Max Croft’s secretary was pregnant. At our ninth-anniversary dinner party, he brought her home. His tone was casual, almost breezy, as he gave me my instructions. “The young lady is a bit particular about her food. From now on, her meals—three a day—must never be the same. And she’s a timid thing, needs someone with her to sleep. Pack up your things and move into the guest room.” I didn’t say a word. I simply picked up the suitcase I had already packed and walked calmly toward the front door. The butler tried to stop me, but Max let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Let her have her little tantrum. She’ll come crawling back in three days, you’ll see.” Laughter erupted around the room. Right there, in front of me, they placed a ten-million-dollar bet. A bet that I wouldn’t last the night before I came back like a pathetic lapdog, weeping and begging Max to let me in. But they didn’t know. The Maybach, arranged by him, was already waiting for me outside. This time, I was really leaving. 1 As I was about to step out the main door of the villa, Max’s voice stopped me. “Claire, leave your jade bracelet. Chloe has been having nightmares lately.” The bracelet was the last thing my parents left me. He met my reddened eyes with an icy indifference. “Name your price.” How much was a nine-year marriage, one spent trampled in the mud, worth? I couldn't be bothered to calculate. I only knew the last time I refused to give my ski goggles to Chloe on the slopes, I’d been stripped naked and left stranded on the mountainside. I took off the bracelet and slipped it onto Chloe’s wrist. “I wish the child in your belly a safe and peaceful life,” I said to her. At this blessing, Max, for the first time, offered me a sliver of an olive branch. “Claire, if you’re obedient enough, my child can be your child.” The words had barely left his mouth when the bracelet on Chloe’s wrist suddenly slipped off and shattered on the floor. Seeing a shard graze Chloe’s leg, Max swept her up in his arms, princess-style, and roared for the butler to call the family doctor. The sight of his frantic panic made the guests look at me with amused, pitying smiles. It wasn't just them who found the scene amusing. I found it laughable myself. Last night, when I had a heart attack, Max was on his way out to watch a meteor shower with Chloe. Even as I foamed at the mouth and collapsed, he had stepped over my body without a flicker of emotion. The last thing I heard before losing consciousness was his instruction to the butler. “Have the entire living room disinfected. Chloe is coming home tomorrow, and I won't have her smelling any foul odors.” My grip tightened on the handle of my suitcase. I turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist, his face a mask of cold fury. “Apologize.” “What—?” Before I could finish, he had dragged me to my knees at Chloe’s feet. My knees scraped against the broken jade, staining the white marble with blood. The sight of the bloodstain made his eyes flicker with disgust as he released my hand. “You deliberately dropped Chloe’s bracelet and injured her. Don’t you think you owe her an apology?” Since marrying Max, the words "I'm sorry" had become my mantra. The soup is too bland, I'm sorry. I worried you were drunk and texted you, I'm sorry for disturbing you. I accidentally saw Chloe's text asking you to a hotel, I'm so, so sorry for invading your privacy... I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, then straightened up with grim resignation. I bowed a full ninety degrees to Chloe, apologizing three times, before turning my deadened eyes to Max. “Is that enough?” I asked softly. His chest heaved as he stared at the blood on my lips. “Claire, your grandfather isn't here to protect you now. Who are you putting on this pathetic, disgusting act for?” Before I could reply, the family doctor rushed in. Pushing me aside like a piece of furniture, Max led the doctor to Chloe. While his world revolved entirely around her, I walked swiftly out the door. The moment I stepped out of the villa, I heard it. Beep-beep! Two sharp honks. Seeing the silver car outside the iron gates, I quickened my pace. But before the gates could open, two bodyguards appeared, forcibly dragging me back into the house. In the study, Max had me tied up. He ordered a needle, as thick as a child’s arm, to be plunged into my vein. Through the half-open door, I heard the doctor’s worried voice. “Mr. Croft, Mrs. Croft and Miss Chloe both have the rare RH-negative blood type, but Mrs. Croft has a history of heart disease. Forcing a blood transfusion could trigger acute shock. I really think we should go to a hospital to treat Miss Chloe’s anemia…” “Don’t try to persuade me,” Max’s voice was like ice. “Your only job is to get Chloe healthy. I’ll handle the rest.” Hearing his approaching footsteps, I slowly closed my eyes. “Does it hurt?” His voice, for once, held a hint of comfort. “Just bear with it. It’ll be over soon.” I turned my head away, unwilling to waste another word on him. After they had drawn 800cc of my blood, my lips had turned a deathly shade of purple. Just then, Chloe, lying in the master bedroom, let out a soft cough. At the sound, Max immediately stopped the doctor from removing the needle and demanded he draw double the amount. The doctor, sweating profusely, told Max that if they continued, I would very likely die. After a two-second pause, Max said only this: “Chloe is pregnant. The pregnant woman comes first.” “But—” I cut the doctor off. “Do it. Just let me leave when you’re finished.” Staring at my bloodless face, Max’s eyes flashed with cold anger. He opened his mouth, about to demand if I was done with my games, if I was really going to run away over such a trivial matter. But a delicate, honeyed voice called out, “Max, darling~” And just like that, he was gone. Two days later, I woke up in a hospital, having been admitted for shock. The first thing I saw was Max, sitting by my bed, reviewing documents. Our eyes met and held for a long, silent moment. He emotionlessly brought a bowl of congee over, gesturing as if to feed me. I shook my head. “I can do it myself.” He watched quietly as I finished half the bowl. “Are you feeling unwell anywhere?” he asked. I answered with a question of my own. “Could you please pass me my phone?” Perhaps my tone was too distant. Max froze for several seconds before contacting the butler to have my phone brought over. He noticed the numerous missed calls on the screen. “Who’s been calling?” he asked, his tone sharp. He’d never been one for so many questions. A flicker of annoyance crossed my face. “Someone you don’t know,” I said simply. He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, looking down at me with cold eyes. “Claire, how long are you going to keep up this spoiled princess act? You think you can push your luck with me?” In the past, when he was angry, I would have immediately started examining my own faults while trying to soothe him. But now, I just pointed to his vibrating phone. “Chloe’s looking for you,” I said, my face a blank slate. A smile touched his lips. As was his habit, he turned away from me and stepped into the hospital corridor to take the call. The moment he left, my phone rang. I answered. Before I could speak, the anxious voice on the other end burst out. “You said you were coming to find me. Claire, did you change your mind?” “No, I didn’t. I just ran into some... trouble.” “Trouble? What happened to you? No, this won’t do. I have to come back myself—” I cut off his frantic stream of words, my gaze dropping. “Just give me a few more days.” Max returned to the room just as I ended the call. He noticed the faint smile playing on my lips, a smile he hadn’t seen in a long, long time. An unfamiliar tightness clenched in his chest. But he had just promised Chloe he would be right back to sing a lullaby to her and the baby. So, he didn’t have time to ask who I was talking to. It was probably that cousin who visited me often. After all, since marrying him, my social circle had dwindled to just female relatives. Picking up his files, Max spoke without turning back. “Claire, something’s come up at the office. I’ll be back tomorrow.” Tomorrow, the day after, and the day after that, he didn't appear. But thanks to our mutual friends, a steady stream of videos of him and Chloe found their way to me. He took her to banquets, to dinner parties. He was like a young man in the throes of first love, eagerly introducing her to everyone he knew. The day I was discharged, Max posted a nine-photo collage on his social media. At sunset, he stood in a romantic hot air balloon, cradling Chloe’s blushing face and kissing her deeply. I posted a comment: [Wishing you two a beautiful baby and a lifetime of happiness.] Ten minutes later, my phone rang. It was Max. I didn't answer. Half an hour later, after completing my discharge paperwork alone, I saw Max and Chloe at the entrance of the obstetrics and gynecology department. I overheard a young nurse at the front desk cooing at Chloe. “Mrs. Croft, your husband dotes on you so much. He accompanies you to every single appointment. During the ultrasound, he was so worried the gel would be too cold for you that he insisted on warming it in his hands first before letting us use it.” The other pregnant women around them looked on with undisguised envy. I subconsciously touched my abdomen. I remembered a time when there was a child there. The day I had the car accident, the day I miscarried from blood loss, I had tearfully video-called Max. What I saw instead was a naked Chloe. “Mrs. Croft,” she had purred, “Mr. Croft lost a game to me, so he’s currently tied to the bed receiving his punishment. Was there something you needed him for?” I didn’t say a word. I just hung up. Less than a minute later, Max himself called back. He had his arm around a teary-eyed, wronged-looking Chloe as he berated me for being petty and stupid. He had also said: “A useless idiot like you who can’t even hold onto her own child... I really wonder what you’re good for. Claire, you might as well have just been hit by a truck and died.” Shaking myself from the memory, I was about to take a detour when Max walked over, his face cold. “What are you doing just standing there like an idiot?” I lowered my eyes, instinctively explaining, “I wasn’t following you. It was just a coincidence. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.” “Wait.” As Max frowned and called out, a flash of jealousy crossed Chloe’s eyes. She tightened her grip on his arm and smiled at me. “Mrs. Croft, I’m so grateful to you for the blood transfusion. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be feeling dizzy. Max, darling, please, can’t you let Mrs. Croft come home with us? Please?” Max adoringly tapped her nose. “You’re the kindest pregnant woman in the world, my love. Whatever you say, goes.” Since I was planning to go back for my luggage anyway, I didn't refuse Chloe's "kindness." Inside the spacious black car, just as Chloe had intended, I quickly spotted a pair of not-quite-dry lace panties wedged in the seat cushions. “Oh my! How did... how did this end up in the car? Max, darling, didn't you tell me you got rid of it?” Chloe bit her lip and buried herself in his chest, playfully swatting at him. Max chuckled, apologizing profusely, all while subtly observing my reaction. When he saw that I wasn't angry at all, the strange tightness he'd felt in the hospital room returned with a vengeance. “Claire, you’ve been staring at your phone since you got in the car.” His tone was sharp, laced with something like jealousy. “Are you chatting with your cousin, or someone else... someone I don’t know?” Having finished booking my flight, I turned off the screen. “Just browsing the news.” My answer only seemed to deepen the displeasure on his face. He snatched the phone from my hand. “What’s the password?” he demanded. “My birthday.” Nine years of marriage. Such a simple six-digit number. He tried again and again until the phone locked itself, but he never managed to open it. The rest of the drive was silent. As soon as the car stopped, Max, his face etched with concern, helped a morning-sick Chloe into the master bedroom. Then he ordered the cook to prepare all of Chloe’s favorite foods. As he came downstairs, he saw my lonely figure heading towards the guest room. After a moment’s thought, he said to the cook, “Make a couple of the Mrs.’s usual dishes as well. And set the table for three.” In the guest room, I opened my suitcase to find that all my clothes had been cut to shreds. Fortunately, the passports and documents tucked away in the inner layer were unharmed. Just as I gathered my documents, ready to leave, Chloe blocked the doorway. She held a black bottle, her eyes raking over me with contempt. “Claire, I didn’t realize you had such a high tolerance for humiliation. I’ve moved into your house, made you the laughingstock of our entire social circle, and you’re still clinging to the Croft family like a leech.” “But I guess it makes sense. That old hag of a grandmother of yours finally kicked the bucket last month. Without her backing you, you have no choice but to cling to Max like he’s your last lifeline, right?” At this, she seemed to recall something amusing. “Claire, do you know why Max refused to fly you in the helicopter to see your grandmother on her deathbed? Because he had promised to take me to see the sunset at the beach that day. See this photo on my lock screen? It was taken right then.” Smack. I slapped the phone from her hand and, losing all restraint, lunged for her throat. The bottle slipped from her grasp, and the acrid smell of gasoline filled the air. In the struggle, Chloe frantically managed to ignite the spilled fuel. Thick smoke billowed, and flames roared to life. Having just been discharged from the hospital, I was quickly overcome, my body going limp as I collapsed to the floor. That’s when I heard Max’s voice. “Claire!” It was followed by the frantic shouts of the staff. “Sir, it’s too dangerous! You can’t go in! Wait for security to bring the fire extinguishers!” “Get out of my way! Claire is still in there!” He ignored the danger and rushed into the burning room. He just hadn't expected Chloe to be in there as well. “Max, darling, save—” Chloe didn’t need to finish. Without a moment's hesitation, Max swept her into his arms, didn’t spare me a single glance, and turned to leave. Half an hour later, after calming Chloe down, Max searched the entire villa. He couldn't find me anywhere. In the sterile light of the late-night airport, I mailed a package and, coughing, boarded a flight to London. Just before takeoff, I received a text from him: [I don’t have time to play hide-and-seek. Chloe has a check-up at 10 am tomorrow. You be there too, for a lung examination.] I didn’t reply. I removed the SIM card and turned off the phone. Max Croft, from this day forward, we will never meet again.
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