After Losing My Child, I Became My Ex-Husband’s Rival’s Beloved

I gripped my phone so hard my hands shook. After a while, it seemed Vincent had fixed the espresso machine. He finally had time to send me links. [Sacred destinations for pregnancy travel, offering your loved one a journey that reaches the soul.] [Arrange a romantic trip for your pregnant wife.] One link after another came through, along with long travel guides. [Isabella, these are styles you usually like. Pick from them, or look at others yourself. [Whatever you choose, I'll take you there. Clara has already approved the leave slip.] Then he sent a picture of a handwritten approval note from Clara. [Vincent's application approval note [Approved item: unlimited [Number of uses: one [Approved by: Clara] I forced my trembling hands still and saved the leave slip to my album. Then I took out my medical report for termination of pregnancy, along with my passport, and went to the Moretti headquarters. Soon, from an audio shop near the Moretti entrance, my tearful accusation began to play. Dressed thinly, I knelt in front of the bustling Moretti building. Beside me stood a sign printed with Clara's handwritten approval note. I held up my passport and the termination report. "Because of the reasons stated above, I missed the best window for emergency treatment and lost my child..." "God, an approval note? Sending his own wife to a private hospital needed Clara's sign-off?" Onlookers raised their phones and livestreamed my miserable story. "Who does Clara think she is? She isn't Mrs. Moretti. Who gave her the right to approve or deny anything?" "Isn't Don Vincent supposed to be devoted to his wife? Why does he still listen to Clara?" "I know that Clara. She has no sense of boundaries. She couldn't survive after being squeezed out of her last company, so she ran to the Moretti family. "Relying on her ten-plus years of friendship with Don Vincent, she acts like she owns the family business too." Clara had been about to leave work. Now she was blocked at the entrance of family headquarters, too frightened to come out. "What... what is going on? Why are so many people blocking me?" At the same time, Vincent called. "Are you insane? Why did you end the pregnancy?" I laughed. "Why I ended it... does Don Vincent really not know?" "That's enough, Isabella!" Vincent's breathing was unsteady. "Clara already called 911 for you. The doctor also told her the baby was fine. Why did you get rid of it?" I froze. Then I laughed bitterly. "You think I deliberately killed the baby?" "You've always had a problem with Clara." "Vincent, I'm not as sick and heartless as Clara!" My roar went out through the onlookers' livestream. The comments rolled wildly. [God, She looks like she's about to shatter.] [Watching this while pregnant, I can't stop crying. Anyone who lost a baby over something like this would go mad.] [Clara really is a bitch. I can't watch this anymore. I'm going there myself.] [Me too! I'm nearby!] [Bro, lead the way. My fists are already clenched. Drop the location.] More and more people gathered. Everyone shouted for Clara to come downstairs. On the other end of the call, Clara burst into tears. "Vincent! What do we do?" Vincent clenched his jaw. "Isabella, Clara has depression. You're pushing her toward suicide!" "And what about our child?" "Make them leave first." "Impossible." "Vince... my heart is panicking. I feel terrible..." Clara's voice suddenly trembled. Vincent seemed to drop his phone. Things crashed on his end, followed by his voice fading into the distance. "Clara! Someone come! Hurry!" I listened to the chaos over there and smiled coldly. No matter what, I had to seek justice for my child. At last, Vincent came out. Facing the surging crowd, Vincent's face appeared on the exterior display of the Moretti building. "I'm here to respond to what Isabella just accused me of." I clenched my teeth and stared at him. "That child was not mine."

My eyes widened. The furious onlookers were visibly stunned too. Vincent stood at the top of the headquarters steps, looking down over the crowd at me kneeling on the ground. "I have never slept with this woman, and I don't understand why she singled me out. "Miss, do I even know what I did to offend you?" "Vincent!" I was shaking with rage. The onlookers had already blocked the path between Vincent and me. "Don Vincent, are you saying you really never had relations with her?" Vincent nodded. "I have notified my family's lawyer. We will pursue this lady's responsibility for defamation." After saying that, he gave me a cold glance, turned, and went back into headquarters. I stood up. "Vincent, stop right there!" "Where do you think you're going?" Someone grabbed me and looked me up and down. "So she's a homewrecker." "Whose bastard were you carrying?" "You came here to frame Don Vincent and smear Miss Clara. You wanted to use us as your knife." For a brief moment, the crowd went quiet. Then the insults crashed down harder. "We actually spoke up for you, and you're the liar?" "You like destroying other people's families so much? Think whoever cries is right?" I tried to step back, but there were people behind me too. Phones surrounded me from every side. Someone splashed an iced coffee over me. The brown liquid ran down my hair and coat, and the medical report in my hand was knocked to the ground. Someone stepped on it. A dirty shoe print spread across the white paper. I bent down to pick it up, but someone shoved me so hard I nearly fell. "Don't let her run!" "Make her explain it in public!" "Wasn't she good at crying? Cry now!" I had just been discharged from the hospital. I had no strength, and with hundreds of people surrounding me, shouting insults and shoving phones into my face, even breathing became difficult. Just as I was about to collapse, the Moretti guards finally came out. They separated the onlookers, took me by both arms, and dragged me toward the building. The moment the doors closed behind me, the shouting outside was cut off by thick glass. The hall was terrifyingly quiet. I was soaked and cold. Coffee still dripped from my hair, and the ruined medical report was clenched in my hand, wrinkled beyond recognition. Vincent sat in his office chair. When he saw me like that, the coldness on his face visibly paused. His gaze moved from my hair, to my coat, to the filthy report in my hand. His fingers tightened slightly, as if he wanted to stand. But Clara spoke first. "Sister, why did you have to make things this ugly?" She stood beside Vincent, eyes red, voice soft enough to sound wronged beyond measure. "You know my health is poor. You know Vince worries about me most. "But you still told so many people that I killed your child. "Are you trying to force me to die?" Vincent's hand, which had just begun to lift, dropped back down. I looked at him. He did not look at me. He only stared at Clara's pale face. Clara pressed a hand to her chest, her breathing turning uneven. "Vince, my heart hurts..." Vincent stood at once. "Clara?" She shook her head, tears falling one by one. "I'm fine. "Don't worry about me. "Let Sister record the video first. "As long as she clarifies that she misunderstood me, the people outside won't keep blocking us." A video? Only then did I understand why they had brought me inside. I looked at Vincent. "You think so too?" Vincent avoided my eyes and ordered in a low voice, "Set up the camera." The guards quickly placed a camera in the hall. The red light came on. Clara stood behind the lens, her voice gentle to the point of cruelty. "Sister, just say that you misunderstood me because you were jealous of my relationship with Vince. "Say you didn't mean to lead those people into attacking me. "As for the baby... say you were too impulsive." I laughed. "Clara, who do you think you are?" Vincent's face darkened at once. "Isabella." He said my name in a low, restrained voice. "Stop being stubborn." I tightened my grip on the medical report. "I'm stubborn?" "There are people everywhere outside," Vincent said, anger in his eyes and a trace of panic forced down beneath it. "They all think you lied. If you keep holding out, you'll only make yourself more miserable. "Clara's health is poor. She can't take this kind of stress." I looked at him coldly. His throat moved, and his voice softened by a fraction. "Lower your head. "Apologize to her. "As long as she nods and approves me taking you out, I'll carry you to the hospital right away. "I'll also make the people outside shut up. "This isn't the time to keep fighting." I almost laughed out loud. "Vincent, even now, you still need her approval to save me?" His eyes froze. Beside him, Clara coughed softly, her fingers pressing hard over her heart. Vincent immediately turned to look at her. Clara's eyes shimmered with tears. "Vince, forget it. "If Sister hates me this much, I won't force her. "I just... my heart really hurts." As she spoke, her body swayed slightly. Vincent's expression changed completely. When he looked back at me, there was already threat in his voice. "Isabella, stop making trouble. "Apologize. "Once the video is recorded, I'll send you to the hospital." "And if I don't?" "Then the people outside won't let you go." He said each word clearly. "And neither will the Moretti family's lawyers." The guards stepped forward, blocking my path from both sides. Vincent closed his eyes, as if afraid I would misunderstand him, or perhaps afraid he would soften. "I'm not trying to force you. "But you slandered Clara first. "Lower your head, and this will be over. "She won't let you remain this miserable." I looked up at him, at the man who had once promised to protect me for the rest of my life, and suddenly everything felt absurd. "So what?" I smiled coldly. "Are you going to kill me for your woman?" Vincent froze. I slowly straightened myself. Coffee dripped from the hem of my coat onto the floor, and my voice was light, but clear enough for the entire hall to hear. "Or are you going to strip me, call me a slut, and tell everyone you and Clara are the real couple?" "Isabella!" Vincent's face went white. "Stop saying things out of anger." "Anger?" I lifted the dirty medical report, the paper trembling between my fingers. "My child is gone. "I was trapped outside your family headquarters and cursed as a homewrecker. "And now you're asking me to beg the woman who killed my child for permission to be saved. "Tell me, which part is just anger?" Vincent could not answer. Clara's breathing grew more and more uneven, as if she might collapse at any second. But I no longer wanted to watch. I steadied myself and held the report against my chest. "I won't record the video. "I won't apologize. "If you aren't really going to drag me out, tear me apart and trample me to death..." I looked at Vincent and said, word by word, "Then I'm leaving." With that, I walked past the guards toward the door. The guards instinctively looked at Vincent. Vincent stared at my back, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to follow. "Vince..." Clara suddenly let out a short, broken sob. The next second, she clutched her chest and collapsed. "Clara!" Vincent rushed over almost by instinct and caught her. I did not look back. Behind me, the hall fell into chaos. Someone called for a doctor. Someone called for a car. Vincent's urgent voice cut through it all. "Clara, wake up!" As he held Clara, he looked back at me once. There was struggle in that look. Anxiety too. He probably thought that after he calmed Clara down, he would come find me and explain everything properly. But I no longer wanted to wait. For the next few days, Vincent stayed with Clara. One moment she said her heart hurt; the next, she said she was afraid the people outside would take revenge; then she cried and asked whether she should still be alive. Vincent was trapped by her again and again. Only after he finally soothed Clara did he remember that I had not replied to him in a long time.