Chapter 55

After hearing the whole truth, Chase was a shadow of his former self. For the first time, I witnessed such a tempest of emotions on his face—guilt, regret, and self-blame swirling together. He must have remembered how much I loved children; our only child was gone because of him.

“That child…” he began.

Dr. James interrupted, “The fetus wasn’t even three months along. It wasn’t fully formed and wasn’t really a person. Perhaps thinking of it that way will ease your mind. You can continue to support your sister without guilt.”

His words, though casual, felt like needles aimed directly at Chase. This wasn't a new tactic; even his assistant had hinted at it, but Chase had remained unmoved. He hung his head, hands clenched, his voice rough and low. "What happened to the fetus?"

"It was a miscarriage; there wasn't a body. Normally, we handle these ourselves, but Amanda wanted to..." Dr. James glanced at Chase, who seemed on the verge of collapse, and scribbled an address. "I have other patients. Mr. Reyes, you should leave. And, as I've said before, Amanda's a gem. If you don't see it, someone else will.”

In the past, Chase would have retorted, but today he merely mumbled a "thank you" and stumbled out.

Once he was gone, Dr. James sighed, muttering, "I told you from the start you two weren't a match, but you wouldn't listen."

A lump formed in my throat. I whispered, too quietly for him to hear, "Yeah, I regret it now, but it's too late…"

Life wasn't a game with a reset button. I learned that the hard way. Even after being cruelly murdered, I couldn't achieve revenge. I was trapped, a powerless observer, possessing a bird's-eye view but utterly helpless.

Chase raced to the cemetery, finding the simple tombstone I'd had made for our child. Where we come from, babies who die so young rarely receive tombstones, let alone an unborn fetus. But I couldn't let it go. In my heart, that fetus was my child from the moment life began.

Compared to the other graves, our child's marker was plain, lacking a picture or birthdate. Only the departed's name and the name of the person who erected it were inscribed. Chase's fingers traced the letters: Hope's Grave.

He whispered, "Hope. Amanda, how could you be so cruel and not tell me about the child?"

Cruel? I don't think so. He never loved the child. If he hadn't pushed me, the miscarriage wouldn't have happened. If he hadn't spoiled Nicole rotten, I wouldn't have been so devastated by the loss of our child. I'd considered telling him, but did he ever give me the chance?

I remained silent about the miscarriage, waiting for the truth to hit him. Did he regret it? I wanted him to suffer, tossing and turning, haunted by our loss. Whenever he saw a child, I wanted him to remember the one we lost. It needed to haunt him forever.

He touched our names, then sank to his knees, his voice soft but shaking. "Hope... that's your name, huh? All my fault..."

Chapter 56