Chapter 9

Sean POV

The medical report felt heavy in my hands as I stood outside Angela's bedroom.

Through the partially open door, I could see her silhouette against the window, the lights creating a halo around her slender frame.

She had long, flowing black hair that cascaded down her back like strands of silky seaweed, swaying with the slightest movement. Her amber eyes, always warm and luminous, held a gentle glow, as if capturing the golden light of the setting sun.

But now, she looked fragile in the darkness, nothing like the composed woman who handled Shaw Group's most delicate negotiations.

My fingers tightened on the crumpled paper. In two years of marriage, I'd never seen Angela genuinely ill, never known her to hide medical information. Yet here was evidence of a hospital visit she'd kept secret, torn into pieces and discarded like evidence of a crime.

"You can come in," she said without turning around. "I can hear you thinking from here."

I pushed the door open.

"Want to explain this?"

She turned, moonlight catching the shadows under her eyes. Her gaze dropped to the medical report in my hand, and something flickered across her face - fear?

"Where did you get that?"

"Sarah found it while cleaning." I held it out to her. "Care to tell me why you're hiding medical reports?"

Angela snatched the paper from my hand, scanning its contents. Her shoulders relaxed slightly. "It's just my annual physical. Nothing to concern yourself with."

"Then why tear it up?"

"Because it's private." Her voice carried that edge of steel I'd come to recognize - the one that appeared whenever she felt cornered. "Though I suppose privacy means little in this house lately."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Shouldn't you be at Christina's?" Her smile was razor-sharp. "Though I suppose you're planning to bring her back here instead. I should remind you that we are still legally married, at least for now."

"What are you talking about? Christina only stayed here last night to help you. And I didn't sleep in her room!"

"No?" Angela turned back to the window. "My mistake. Your cufflink was sitting there on her bed."

The implications in her voice made something hot and uncomfortable curl in my chest.

"Nothing happened with Christina."

"It doesn't matter." She crumpled the report in her fist. "We're getting divorced, remember? Your private life is no longer my concern.I just hope you can maintain some dignity until we're officially divorced. I don't want to hear the servants gossiping about us!"

I caught her wrist before she could tear the paper further.

"Don't try to change the subject. Something's wrong with you. The fever, the medication avoidance, these hidden doctor visits - don't lie to me, Angela."

"Let go!" Her pulse raced under my fingers, betraying her calm exterior.

"Not until you tell me the truth."

"The truth?" She laughed. "You don't know me well enough to handle the truth, Sean."

"Two years of marriage says otherwise."

"Two years of convenience," she corrected. "Two years of playing our parts for your grandmother's benefit. Don't pretend it was more than that."

But my hand was still on her wrist, and I could feel her trembling.

"You're shaking."

"I'm tired." She tried to pull away, but I held firm.

"Sean, please..."

Without thinking, I pulled her closer, until I could feel the heat of her fever through her silk robe. "Tell me what's wrong."

She looked up at me, moonlight catching the tears she was trying to hide.

"You want the truth? Fine. I'm pregnant."

The words knocked the breath from my lungs. My grip on her wrist loosened involuntarily, and she stepped back. Then, unexpectedly, a contemptuous smile curved her lips.

"How could I be pregnant?" Her laugh was brittle in the darkness. "I was just joking. But even if I were..."

Her voice hardened.

"I would get an abortion anyway."

Anger flared hot in my chest. "Is the thought of carrying my child really that repulsive to you?"

"Let me ask you something instead," Angela's voice was ice-cold. "Would you actually want me to be pregnant? We're getting divorced, Sean."

Her words hit home like a physical blow.

She was right - we were getting divorced. Bringing a new life into this mess wouldn't be fair to anyone. Not to Angela, not to Christina, and certainly not to the child.

I had made my choice when I decided to be with Christina. The proper thing to do now was to maintain appropriate distance from Angela. Any other path would only lead to more complications, more pain.

My phone buzzed again in my pocket, Christina's name illuminating the screen. The timing felt like fate's way of confirming my decision.

"Goodnight, Sean," Angela said quietly, slipping past me into the hallway.

I stood alone at the window, watching the city lights blur beneath me. The right choice wasn't always the easiest one to live with.

My phone buzzed again. Opening it, I found Christina's goodnight message, accompanied by a photo of her in silk pajamas.

Two years had transformed her from the fresh-faced medical student I remembered into an even more alluring woman.

The sight stirred memories of that night on the yacht - her quick thinking when I collapsed, the way she'd stayed by my side through my recovery, risking her own life to save mine. She'd been so young then, yet she hadn't hesitated to put herself in danger for me.

I couldn't betray that kind of devotion. Christina had earned her place in my life, paid for it with her own blood on that yacht deck.

As for Angela... I already had plans for how to compensate her properly.