Jesse’s anxious eyes met mine as I sat up.

“Penelope, you… you should rest a bit longer.”

I waved him off and asked the question that was burning in my gut, “Did I lose the baby?”

Jesse looked away, unable to meet my gaze. “You can have another child, Penelope. Don’t be too upset. Focus on recovering your strength. The doctor said you’re still very weak…”

His words “you can have another child” were the last thing I heard before the world went fuzzy.

A wave of dizziness washed over me.

I’d known all along this baby was a goner.

Lying to Archer about the abortion? That was just part of my plan to not keep it.

I just never imagined Archer would be the reason it all went sideways.

During my last prenatal check-up, the doctor warned me my emotions had been too volatile, my body too weak.

Miscarriage risk was sky-high if I wasn’t careful.

The first trimester is basically a fetus’s survival mode. And guess what I discovered during that critical window? Archer’s affair. How could I possibly protect that little one?

That day, I called Archer as soon as I left the clinic. No answer.

When I got home that evening, a single strand of a woman’s hair was clinging to his black suit jacket, reeking of some sickly-sweet perfume.

Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself and reached for Jesse. “Phone.”

“Oh,” Jesse said, fumbling and handing me his.

I called the family driver, but it wasn't him who showed up. It was my parents, and Archer.

“Archer said you ran off in the middle of the night and wouldn't let him follow you. It’s so dangerous, Penelope, especially when you’re pregnant…” My mother’s voice, laced with that familiar worry, filled the car.

I dodged Archer’s attempt to help me and let Jesse usher me to the family car instead.

Archer hesitated, then hopped into his own car.

I closed my eyes the second I was seated.

Seeing my state, my parents wisely kept their questions to themselves.

When we pulled up to the house, Archer was already there, hand outstretched again, ready to help me out.

I just stayed put, refusing to budge.

My mother, sensing the toxic vibe between us, put my health first and told Archer to go inside.

My plan was to bolt straight upstairs and ghost Archer, but he wouldn’t have it. He gestured for my mother to help me to the sofa.

Thinking of the baby I’d lost, a chilling calm settled over me. Fine, I thought, my expression blank. Let’s get this over with.

Once I was settled on the sofa, Mom sent the housekeeper for coffee and a blanket.

My face was stone. Archer stood to the side, looking awkward and totally ignored.

After a bit of fussing, Mom finally sat down. “What happened? Why were you at the hospital? Are you feeling unwell? You really need to be careful when you’re pregnant…”

“The baby is gone,” I stated, my voice unnervingly calm.

“…What?” My parents echoed, completely blindsided.

“How could the baby just be gone? What on earth happened yesterday?” My father’s voice was already tinged with anger.

My expression remained deadpan. I glanced at Archer, who was hovering a few feet away, and gave him a subtle nod. Your turn.

“Dad, please don’t blame Penelope. It’s my fault. Penelope has had some misunderstandings about me lately. She wouldn’t listen to my explanations, we argued, and she… she went behind my back and terminated the pregnancy…”

Archer spoke with practiced care, every word chosen.

I almost snorted. This, I thought, is what they call ‘spin.’ Two years of running a company has definitely buffed him up from the clueless boy he used to be. On the surface, he was taking the blame. But each sentence subtly framed me as the unreasonable one.

My father, ever the man of action, was about to unleash his fury on me.

Thank God, I quickly retrieved the medical report from my coat pocket and slid it onto the table.