Boarding the plane was a little exciting for Claire Sinclair at first, but she fell asleep again not long after takeoff.
By the ti she woke up, they had already landed back in Aethelgard.
Returning to the city after two weeks, Claire Sinclair felt a wave of joy at finally being ho. She couldn’t wait to take a nice, long, hot shower.
She had expected a certain workaholic to part ways with her at the airport, but he insisted on taking her ho himself.
Once ho, Claire Sinclair imdiately dashed into the bathroom for that hot shower. She scrubbed herself from head to toe several tis until she finally felt clean.
「anwhile.」
Adrian Quincy pulled her dical report from a drawer in his study, and his resolve began to waver.
He never wavered when it ca to matters of state, but he found himself unable to broach the subject of her miscarriage.
It was their first child. And yet, one of his own kin had killed it.
Losing a child that way would be a devastating blow for any mother.
Claire’s health had been poor, so he had selfishly put off telling her the truth. Now that she had mostly recovered, it was ti to confess.
The worst-case scenario: she would use this as grounds to demand a divorce.
Even though he had thought through all the consequences, he still couldn’t summon the courage to tell her the truth.
’He was so afraid of losing her...’
As his mind raced, a sudden buzzing sound ca from the adjacent bedroom. She was blow-drying her hair.
Adrian Quincy squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, their forr cold, rciless glint had returned.
He picked up the dical report, walked out of the study, and stepped into the adjacent bedroom.
Claire Sinclair was still in the bathroom drying her hair. The buzzing of the hairdryer drowned out his footsteps, so she had no idea he’d entered the room, lost in her own world.
Adrian Quincy placed the dical report on the nightstand, planning to wait for her to co out, but just then, his phone rang.
He glanced at the caller ID. It read ’ntor.’ He imdiately took the phone and stepped outside to answer.
A few monts later, Claire Sinclair erged from the bathroom, her hair now dry.
A stack of papers had appeared on the otherwise empty nightstand, imdiately catching her eye.
She picked up the report and scanned it quickly. The color gradually drained from her face.
’This is impossible...’
’She wasn’t even pregnant, so how could she have had a miscarriage!’
’And when had she ever had this kind of check-up? This report has to be fake!’
Her eyes instinctively shot to the date of the exam. It was the day Yara Quincy had injured her. The report itself was dated a week after that...
’Impossible...’
’How could she have been pregnant? They always used protection. Even though the condoms often broke, they *did* use them.’
’There’s no way she could have gotten pregnant...’
’How could she have been pregnant? How could she have lost her child without even knowing it existed!’
’She wasn’t pregnant. She didn’t have a miscarriage!’
’She hadn’t failed to protect her own baby!’
’She hadn’t...’
’But then why was this dical report so detailed? Why was it stamped with the seal of tropolis General Hospital? Why was there an official invoice that couldn’t possibly be fake?!’
’It’s fake. It has to be fake...’
SOB... As much as Claire Sinclair wanted to numb herself to it all, she suddenly broke down, weeping uncontrollably.
’She hadn’t even known she was pregnant when she lost their first child. And she only found out the truth after all this ti. Was she so kind of idiot?’
’Claire Sinclair, people always called you useless. How did you manage to actually beco so useless?’
’Ha... So I really am useless!’
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