Chapter 3He Traded Our Unborn Child For His Mistress

I mumbled an acknowledgment, knowing my proud brother would only ask if he were truly desperate.

When I called Preston, he answered immediately, as if waiting for my call.

"What card? Oh... that one. I thought it was being fraudulently used, so I unlinked it. Is there a problem?"

Preston's tone was dismissive, yet his words landed like a heavy hammer blow to my heart.

My hands nervously twisted the hem of my shirt. I forced myself to beg.

"But my brother can’t wait, Pres. Can you... can you please be merciful to me just one more time, like you used to be?"

Pres.

It had been a long time since I’d used the intimate short form of his name.

Silence fell on Preston’s end.

A moment of rustling, and then Summer’s voice came through.

"Kinsley, you know the company is under a lot of financial pressure right now? You and your brother are like a bottomless pit—no matter how much he gives you, it’s never enough. You’re going to drag him down."

Financial pressure...

My mind flashed back to the morning headlines: "CEO Preston Thorne Spends Millions for Love! Ten-Million Dollar Villa and Luxury Cars Gifting Titles to Summer!"

The financial pressure was caused by that, wasn't it?

An endless bitterness spread across my tongue, a searing, agonizing pain.

"Preston put me in charge of this matter," Summer continued. "If you can placate me, he’ll naturally help your brother with the money."

I agreed without hesitation.

"I’ll text you the address. Come see me tomorrow, and I’ll tell you what to do."

I never imagined the address Summer sent would be my house.

Standing outside, looking at the familiar stone façade, felt like gazing into a distant, lost life.

The peach tree by the gate was blooming.

The day Preston and I planted it, he’d asked me, "Do you know the language of the peach blossom?"

I shook my head.

He leaned in, gently biting my left ear, his hot breath making my head swim.

"Kinsley, I want to be a prisoner of your love."

A spring breeze pulled me back to the present. I gave a self-mocking smile and entered the yard.

Inside, through the sheer white curtains of the massive glass wall, the sunlight illuminated the furniture.

I saw two bodies entwined on the chaise lounge—my mother’s favorite piece of furniture.

Preston's breathing was ragged. His voice was a mix of temptation and threat.

"So we agree, you won't take it too far."

Summer chuckled, playfully pushing his shoulder. "You gave me the house. Why are you suddenly so possessive?"

He gave her the house?

I lost control and stormed inside. "The house? Did you really give her the house?"

Preston detached himself from Summer and slowly wrapped his silk robe around himself.

"Yes. The paperwork is being finalized."

The moment those words left his mouth, a ringing filled my ears. I couldn't hold my emotions in check any longer. I rushed him, beating my fists against his chest like a lunatic.

"Why would you give it to her? You promised! You said as long as I behaved, you'd transfer the title back to me! Preston, why her? Why!"

He grabbed my flailing hands and violently shoved me onto the sofa.

Though the cushions were soft, the impact sent a sharp, dull ache through my abdomen.

"She lost a child. This house is her compensation," he said flatly. "If you had lost a child that day, I would have compensated you too."

"And Kinsley, don’t forget why you’re here."

In that instant, I forgot how to cry, how to scream, and even how to hate.

When a sliver of rationality returned, Summer was dressed.

"Kinsley, I haven’t quite decided how to punish you yet. How about... you get down on your knees and beg me?"

Looking up at Summer’s arrogant, triumphant gaze, a wave of intense humiliation washed over me.

But I knew I couldn't refuse.

Silence fell over the room.

For a moment, I only heard a soft, muffled thud.

It wasn't my knees hitting the floor.

It was my backbone, straight for twenty-six years, finally and completely shattering.

Summer smiled.

"I don't have all day to wait. You know this house. You know where the security cameras are. If I check the feed and you're not kneeling, I’m afraid I won’t be able to help your brother."

She looped her arm through Preston's, and they walked out.

The pain in my stomach intensified. I could barely straighten up.

Every time I tried to shift or stand, the camera in the corner gave a little mechanical whir.

The person watching seemed to be reminding me that if I ran, if I stood up, my brother would be ruined.

As night fell, I suddenly felt a gush of warmth between my legs.

In the faint moonlight, I saw my trousers were completely soaked in blood.

Terrified, I called Jared.

I cried that I was dying, that I was bleeding too much.

My brother arrived, still in his restaurant uniform from his part-time job.

He lifted me, his arms trembling, and ran to the waiting ambulance.

"Kin, stay awake! Look at me!"

"Kin! Don't you dare close your eyes!"

Just before the doors of the operating room closed, through the haze, I saw Preston.

In all our years of marriage, it was the first time I had ever seen him so completely undone.