I led my own people into the fight and saved him—at the cost of our child and nearly my life.
Every time I miscarried, Weston knelt before me in tears, blaming himself.
And every time, I comforted him, telling him it wasn't his fault—that it was just fate.
But now I knew.
He already told me the truth. I had just been too blind to see it.
Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, my chest tightening until I could barely breathe. I clenched my fists and took shaky breaths, trying not to fall apart.
Inside the office, Patricia rested her head on his chest, tracing circles on his shirt with her finger.
"Weston," she murmured, feigning hesitation, "the doctor said if my sister loses another baby, she might never be a mother again. That's too cruel for her. Maybe we should just forget it. Don't save me."
Her teary eyes made his heart ache.
"No, Patricia," he said firmly, "you're the most important person in my life."
"Denise stole everything that should have been yours. If she loses the ability to have children, that's only fair. Compared to what you've suffered, it's nothing."
"Besides, she already has everything—wealth, status, my name. What more could she possibly want?"