The first time Sophia Reed met Damien Cross was in the filthiest clinic in Riverside City. She knelt on the floor, clutching the hospital payment slip. Her mother's kidney failure had reached its final stage. Dialysis cost thirty thousand a month. She had two hundred dollars left. The clinic owner, an old man in a dusty gray suit, slid a contract across to her. "Sign it, and your mother will be transferred to a private hospital. I'll cover everything." The contract read: Three years as Damien Cross's personal caretaker. "Just a caretaker?" Sophia asked. The old man smiled. "You'll take care of everything for him. Including his needs in bed." The first time Sophia Reed met Damien Cross was in the filthiest clinic in Riverside City. She knelt on the floor, clutching the hospital payment slip in her hand. Her mother's kidney failure had reached its final stage. Dialysis cost thirty thousand dollars a month. And in her pocket, she only had two hundred dollars left. The owner of the clinic was named Cross. A man in his sixties wearing a dusty gray suit. He looked at Sophia and slid a contract across to her. "Sign it, and your mother will be transferred to a private hospital immediately. I'll cover all the expenses." Sophia took the contract. Her fingers trembled. The contract read: Voluntary agreement to serve as Damien's personal caretaker for a term of three years. "Just a caretaker?" She looked up and asked. Mr. Cross smiled. "Not just a caretaker. My son has a special condition. You'll need to take care of everything for him." "Everything?" "Yes. You'll take care of everything for him. Including his needs in bed." Sophia's face went deathly pale. She understood exactly what those four words meant. Mr. Cross sighed. "My son's name is Damien Cross. When he was twenty-two, someone poisoned him. The toxins haven't been completely cleared from his body, and they flare up once every seven days." "When they do, he's in excruciating pain, loses control of himself, and needs someone to help him through it." "I used to hire girls from outside, but he's become increasingly resistant to that." "I need someone fixed, clean, and able to keep her mouth shut." Sophia's knuckles turned white as she gripped the contract. "Why me?" "Because you're clean. I've investigated you. You've never been in a relationship, your mother is your only living relative, and you desperately need money." Mr. Cross's gaze was cold. "And you're beautiful. He'll like you." Sophia closed her eyes. In her mind, she saw her mother lying in a hospital bed, tubes running everywhere through her body. She stayed silent for a long time, then finally signed her name. ...... Six months later, Damien sat on the living room sofa while Sophia knelt beside his leg, changing his bandages. He had a knife wound on his thigh from last night's gang fight. Sophia's movements were gentle, afraid of hurting him. But Damien still frowned and kicked her shoulder. Sophia fell backward from the kick, her forehead hitting the corner of the coffee table. A large bump immediately swelled up. She didn't make a sound. She got up and continued changing his bandages. "Does it hurt?" She asked softly. Damien glanced at her but said nothing. In the past six months, he'd never really looked at her properly. In his eyes, Sophia was just a tool Mr. Cross had bought with money. A talking sex doll. But Sophia didn't think of it that way. She remembered that rainy night three months ago. The toxins in Damien's body had flared up. He curled up on the floor in agony, drenched in cold sweat. She followed the method Mr. Cross had taught her and helped him through it. Afterward, Damien held her and called out a name. "Claire." He buried his face in the crook of her neck and cried like a child. Sophia held him and gently patted his back. In that moment, she felt needed. Even though the name he called was someone else's. From that day on, Sophia secretly began to fall for this man. She would tie his necktie for him before he went out. She would make him hot sobering soup when he came home drunk. She memorized all his little habits. Like how he preferred his steak medium-rare, drank his Americano, and hated rainy days. She thought that if she was good enough, one day he would finally see her. But she didn't know. The woman named Claire was about to come back. ...... Damien was on the phone when Sophia was in the kitchen cooking his steak. "Claire's back?" His voice came from the living room, carrying an excitement she'd never heard before. Sophia's spatula paused mid-air. "Where are you? I'll come right away." Damien hung up and headed straight for the door. Sophia rushed out, still holding the freshly cooked steak. "Where are you going?" Damien didn't look back. "None of your business." The door slammed shut. Sophia stood there, looking at the still-steaming steak in her hands. She suddenly felt her eyes sting. Just then, her phone buzzed. It was a message from the Cross family's private doctor. "Miss Reed, your pregnancy test results are in. You're two weeks pregnant. I recommend you avoid excessive physical strain in the coming period." Sophia stared at the message. Her hand trembled. She was pregnant. She hadn't had a chance to tell Damien yet. And Damien had already left to find another woman. She leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to a crouch. Tears fell onto the floor without a sound. She heard something inside her heart crack open.
Damien didn't come home all night. Sophia sat on the living room sofa, waiting from eight in the evening until three in the morning. She called him seven times. All went to voicemail. On the eighth call, someone finally picked up. But it wasn't Damien. "Hello?" It was a woman's voice. Soft and pleasant. "Are you looking for Damien? He's in the shower." Sophia's throat felt like someone had wrapped a hand around it. "Who are you...?" "I'm Claire Bennett. You're Sophia, right? Damien told me about you." The woman's voice carried a smile. "Thank you for taking care of him all this time. Now that I'm back, I won't trouble you anymore." The call ended. Sophia stared at her phone screen showing "Call Ended." She suddenly felt so cold. Cold down to her bones. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and sat on the sofa all night. The next morning, Damien came home. A woman stood beside him. She wore a white dress, her long hair flowing over her shoulders. When she smiled, two shallow dimples appeared at the corners of her mouth. This was Claire Bennett. Sophia had seen her photo in Damien's wallet before. She was even more beautiful in person, more gentle. "Sophia, this is Claire." Damien's tone was casual, like he was introducing an ordinary friend. But Sophia saw the tenderness in his eyes. The kind of tenderness she'd never seen in the past six months. "Claire just got back from abroad. She'll be staying with us for a while." Sophia opened her mouth, but before she could speak, she heard Claire ask: "Damien, is she your housekeeper?" Damien paused. "Something like that." Those words stabbed into Sophia's heart like a knife. She stood in the kitchen doorway, still holding the porridge she'd just finished making. She'd gotten up early to make it for Damien, worried his stomach would hurt after drinking last night. Now she felt like a complete joke. "I'll go upstairs and tidy the room." Sophia kept her head down and turned toward the stairs. She heard Claire laughing behind her. "Damien, this housekeeper is quite diligent." He didn't contradict her. Sophia bit her lip so hard her nails dug crescents into her palms, drawing blood. She didn't cry. Her tears had long since dried up.
On Claire's first day moving in, she took over Sophia's room. "Damien, I like this room. The sunlight is wonderful." Claire pointed at Sophia's room, smiling innocently. Damien glanced at it. Sophia's room had the best natural light in the entire villa. Mr. Cross had specifically arranged it because she was anemic and needed more sun exposure. "Fine, you can have this one." Damien nodded, then turned to Sophia. "You move to the storage room on the first floor." Sophia froze. The first-floor storage room didn't even have a window. It could barely fit a cot. "I..." She wanted to say she was pregnant and couldn't live in a place like that. But before the words left her mouth, Claire wrapped her arm around Damien's. "You're so good to me, Damien." Damien looked down at her, a smile on his lips. "As long as you're happy." Sophia watched the two of them being intimate and swallowed back everything she wanted to say. She moved her belongings to the first-floor storage room by herself. The storage room was crammed with cleaning supplies and smelled of mildew. She sat on the cot, hand resting on her flat stomach. "I'm sorry. Mommy can't give you a comfortable place right now." She whispered. That evening, Damien sat in the living room watching TV with Claire. Sophia prepared dinner in the kitchen. She made many dishes, all Damien's favorites. When the food was brought to the table, Claire frowned. "Damien, I can't eat spicy food." Sophia's hand paused. Three of the dishes on the table were spicy. Because Damien liked spicy food. "It's fine. Have her remake them." Damien pushed the three plates aside. "Sophia, take away the spicy ones and make them again." Sophia stood there, still wearing her apron. She looked at Damien. The man's gaze was fixed on Claire. He didn't even glance at her. "Okay." She said quietly. She took the three dishes back to the kitchen and started over. The smell of oil made her nauseous. But she held it in. Midway through, she snuck to the bathroom and dry-heaved a few times. No one noticed. When the new dishes were served, Claire took a bite and smiled with satisfaction. "Mm, this tastes much better." "Then eat more." Damien served her food with his chopsticks. Sophia stood to the side, watching her husband serve food to his old flame. She suddenly felt so tired. A bone-deep exhaustion. That night, Damien slept in the guest room. Because Claire was afraid to sleep alone at night and wanted him to keep her company. Sophia lay alone on the cot in the storage room, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep all night. She started counting down in her mind. Twelve more days until the contract expired.
The next day, Damien took Claire to the gang's annual gala. The gala was held at Riverside City's most luxurious hotel, and all the high-ranking members attended. By custom, Damien should have brought his woman. But he brought Claire. Sophia learned about it from Marcus. Marcus was Damien's driver and the only person in the Cross household she could talk to. "Sophia, don't overthink it. Damien just..." Marcus tried to comfort her, but halfway through, even he couldn't continue. Sophia shook her head. "It's fine." She no longer felt hurt. Or rather, she'd been hurt so much she'd gone numb. Three days later, Claire demanded that Sophia hand-wash her underwear. Sophia didn't refuse. She took Claire's underwear to the laundry room and scrubbed each piece by hand. The door suddenly swung open behind her. Startled, she turned around and met a pair of cold eyes. Damien leaned against the doorframe, a cigar between his fingers. Through the curling smoke, she couldn't make out his expression. "Marcus told me you're pregnant?" Sophia's hand trembled. She hadn't wanted Damien to know. At least not yet. She clutched the underwear tighter and nodded. "Yes. Two weeks." "Why didn't you tell me?" The man's voice was heavy. "I was going to wait until after the gala, when things calmed down, and we could..." "Get rid of it." Sophia froze in place. She jerked her head up, thinking she'd misheard. "What did you say?" "I said, get rid of the baby." Damien's tone was flat, like he was discussing something trivial. "But why... It's your child..." "Claire's depression is severe. She can't handle stress." Damien exhaled a stream of smoke. "If she finds out you're pregnant, she'll have a breakdown. You can get pregnant again later. It's not like this is your only chance." Sophia felt her blood flowing backward. She opened her mouth but couldn't speak a single word. So her child, in Damien's eyes, was something that could be discarded at any time. All because Claire couldn't handle stress. "I made an appointment with a doctor for you. Tomorrow morning at nine." Damien turned to leave. "Damien." Sophia called out to him. Her voice was hoarse. "Let me ask you one question." "Go ahead." "In these past six months, have you ever, even for a single day, liked me?" Damien's footsteps stopped. He didn't turn around. "My heart only has room for one person." He pushed open the door and walked out. In the empty laundry room, Sophia suddenly laughed. She touched her flat stomach. Her eyes burned and swelled. "I'm sorry." She whispered. Then she lowered her head and continued scrubbing the underwear in her hands. Her movements were slow and careful. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, falling on her pale face. Her eyes were dry. Not a single tear fell.
Seven days until the contract expired. Sophia didn't go to the hospital. She went about her routine as usual. Washing clothes, cooking, cleaning. She just spoke less. Damien didn't bring up the abortion again. Perhaps he thought Sophia wouldn't dare disobey his orders. These past few days, Damien spent every day with Claire. He took her to see the night view by the river, went shopping with her, accompanied her to art exhibitions she liked. He never did these things with Sophia. Sophia remembered once gathering the courage to ask Damien if he could take her to a movie. Damien hadn't even looked up. "I'm busy." He said he was busy. But now he had plenty of time to spend with another woman. Sophia looked at the photos Claire posted on social media and deleted them one by one. Claire posted new photos. In them, Damien had his arm around her waist. The two of them were kissing against a sunset backdrop by the ocean. The caption read: The best kind of love is when no matter how long you're apart, you're still the same to me. Posted thirteen minutes ago. Sophia turned off her phone screen and tossed it on the sofa. She suddenly felt nauseous. She didn't know if it was morning sickness or if the last bit of hope inside her had finally rotted away. Just then, the living room door swung open. Claire walked in wearing high heels, arms laden with shopping bags from luxury brands. "Sophia, come help me with these." Sophia walked over and took the bags from her. Claire removed her sunglasses and looked her up and down. "I heard you're pregnant?" Sophia's movements paused. "None of your business." Claire laughed. "Do you know what Damien told me yesterday?" She leaned close to Sophia's ear and lowered her voice. "He said he's just waiting for you to have the baby so you can pack your things and get out of the Cross house." Sophia's pupils contracted sharply. Claire smiled and stepped back. "So don't think that just because you're pregnant, you can hold onto him." "In his eyes, you're just a tool." "A tool that can bear children." Sophia stood there, still holding Claire's shopping bags. She said nothing. After a long while, she finally spoke softly. "Are you done?" Claire raised an eyebrow. "I'm done." "Then move." Sophia walked past her carrying the bags. Her movements were calm. So calm it was as if every word Claire said hadn't hurt her at all. But only she knew. Her palms had four bloody crescent marks from her nails. ...... That evening, Damien came home. He'd been drinking heavily. The smell of alcohol clung to him. Sophia helped him remove his coat and hung it on the rack. "Did you go to the hospital today?" Damien leaned against the sofa, eyes closed, and asked. "No." Sophia's voice was calm. Damien opened his eyes and frowned at her. "Why aren't you listening?" Sophia didn't answer that question. Instead, she asked one of her own. "Damien, if I were to leave, would you miss me at all?" Damien froze. He looked at Sophia. The woman's face was haggard, heavy dark circles under her eyes, lips chapped, her hair just carelessly pulled into a ponytail. She looked nothing like the girl from six months ago. The one who'd knelt in that back-alley clinic with defiant eyes. He stayed silent for a long time. "Where would you go?" He didn't answer her question. He asked one instead. Sophia suddenly smiled. She understood. "The bath is ready. Go wash up." She turned and went into the bathroom. Damien stared at her back, feeling something wasn't right. But he'd drunk too much. His mind was fuzzy and he couldn't figure it out. He leaned back on the sofa and soon fell asleep. Sophia came out of the bathroom and draped a blanket over him. She crouched beside the sofa, looking at Damien's sleeping face. She reached out and gently traced his eyebrows. Her touch was light, as if afraid of waking him. "Damien." She called his name softly. "I know you never cared." "But I really, really liked you." "Liked you so much that I lost myself completely." Her eyes finally reddened. But she didn't cry out loud. She forced the tears back, stood up, and returned to her storage room. She picked up her phone and dialed a number. "Mr. Cross, I've made up my mind." There was a moment of silence on the other end. "You really want to leave?" "Yes." Sophia's voice was calm. "The contract expires in seven days." "After seven days, I'll have nothing to do with the Cross family ever again."
The next morning, Sophia was jolted awake by severe abdominal pain. She opened her eyes. The sheets beneath her were stained red. She froze completely. Fear washed over her like a tidal wave. "The baby..." She braced herself and crawled off the cot, stumbling toward the door. In the living room, Damien and Claire were eating breakfast. Claire wore Damien's white dress shirt, laughing cheerfully. "Damien, can you take me shopping later? I want to buy..." Her words cut off when she saw Sophia stumble out of the storage room. Sophia's pants were soaked with blood. It ran down her thighs. Claire screamed. "Ah!" Damien shot to his feet. The coffee cup in his hand fell to the floor and shattered. "Sophia?!" Sophia clutched her stomach, her face white as a sheet. "Hospital... please... take me to the hospital..." Her voice trembled. Damien rushed over and swept her into his arms. The woman in his arms was impossibly light, like a bundle of bones. Only then did he realize how much weight Sophia had lost. "Marcus! Get the car! Now!" Marcus ran in from outside and froze at the sight. "Damien, the car's right outside!" Damien carried Sophia out. Claire chased after him. "Damien! Where are you going? You promised you'd stay with me!" Damien's steps faltered. He looked back at Claire, then down at the blood-soaked Sophia in his arms. Sophia's consciousness was already fading. She clung desperately to his collar, her nails digging into the fabric. "The baby... save the baby..." Her voice was barely a whisper. Then her eyes closed. Her hand went limp and fell to her side. Damien felt something violently wrench his heart. He didn't hesitate any longer. He got in the car with Sophia. "Drive! Now!" Marcus floored the gas pedal. The car shot forward like an arrow. Damien looked down at the woman in his arms and wiped the tears from her face with his thumb. Only then did he realize his own hands were shaking. "Sophia, don't fall asleep. Don't sleep, you hear me?" His voice was hoarse. But Sophia didn't respond. She lay in Damien's arms, her face white as paper. When the car hit a speed bump, it jolted. Sophia's hand slipped from her body, and something rolled from her palm. Damien looked down. It was a ring. A cheap silver ring with worn-down patterns. It was the one he'd carelessly thrown in the trash three months ago. Sophia had secretly retrieved it. Damien stared at the ring. His Adam's apple bobbed. He picked up the ring and gripped it tightly in his fist.
The emergency room light stayed on all night. Damien sat in a hallway chair, completely still. His white shirt was still stained with Sophia's blood, now dried to a dark brown. Marcus stood nearby, not daring to breathe too loudly or say a word. Near dawn, the doctor emerged. Damien shot to his feet. "How is she?" The doctor removed his mask. His expression was complicated. "We saved her, but the baby didn't make it. Her body was in terrible condition. Severe anemia combined with malnutrition. It's a miracle she lasted this long." Damien stood frozen. "And..." The doctor added another statement. "She appears to have had a previous cesarean section. The incision placement was wrong. It looks like she went through it without anesthesia. There's permanent damage to her rectus abdominis muscles. They'll never fully recover." Damien's mind went blank with a buzzing sound. "Without anesthesia?" Marcus spoke quietly from the side. "Damien, Mr. Cross mentioned before that when Sophia was giving birth, you were at an art exhibition with Miss Bennett." "We called you over twenty times. You didn't answer once." Damien completely froze. He opened his mouth but couldn't speak. The day Sophia gave birth. He was with Claire. She was in the delivery room, shaking from pain, nearly dying on the operating table. And he was at an art exhibition, explaining painting schools to another woman. He remembered now. He remembered coming back to the hospital that day. Sophia was alone in the hospital bed. Not a single family member by her side. When she saw him enter, she smiled. "The baby is healthy." That was all she said. Damien had nodded, glanced at the baby, and then left. He didn't even ask if she was in pain. Didn't ask why her lips were completely bitten raw. He asked nothing. Because at that time, his mind was full of whether Claire was happy that day. Damien's body swayed. He leaned against the wall and slowly sank down. He buried his face in his palms. "Sophia..." His voice leaked through his fingers, trembling with suppression. Marcus looked at his boss, not daring to say a word. He'd never seen Damien like this. The man who commanded fear throughout Riverside's underworld, who made swift and decisive judgments. Now he was curled up in a hospital hallway corner like a trapped beast with its spine ripped out.
When Sophia woke up, she smelled disinfectant. White ceiling, white sheets, white curtains. The sunlight was blinding. She squinted. The pain in her abdomen reminded her of what she'd lost. She touched her flat stomach. Her eyes immediately burned. But she didn't cry. What good would crying do? The baby wasn't coming back. She turned her face to the side, looking at the bare tree branches outside the window. The window was cracked open slightly. Cold wind poured in, making the curtains sway gently. She heard footsteps outside. Damien pushed the door open and walked in. He looked terrible. Dark circles under his eyes, blue stubble on his chin. He approached the bed and reached out to touch her forehead. Sophia turned her head away. Damien's hand froze mid-air. After a long moment, he withdrew it. "About the baby... I'm very sorry." His voice was heavy. "I know." Sophia's voice was calm. Damien looked at her, feeling a tightness in his chest. He'd rather she yell at him, hit him, throw things, cry hysterically. But she did none of that. She just lay in the hospital bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, as if her soul had already left her body. "When you're better, we'll start over." Damien spoke. Sophia slowly turned her head and looked into his eyes. "Start over?" She laughed. That laugh made Damien's heart contract painfully. "Damien." She called his name, her voice soft, as if using every bit of strength she had left. "My baby is gone." Damien shut his mouth. He stood there like a wooden post nailed to the floor. After Sophia said those words, she closed her eyes. A single tear rolled from the corner of her eye, silently falling onto the white pillow and spreading into a small wet spot.
Three days later, Sophia was discharged from the hospital. She returned to the Cross villa and immediately began packing her things. Actually, there wasn't much to pack. She had very little. A few old clothes, a pair of canvas shoes she'd worn for two years, and the silver ring she'd retrieved from the trash. She hesitated, then left the ring on the nightstand. Claire leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a victorious smile on her lips. "Finally seeing sense? You should have left ages ago. What's the point of staying at the Cross house? You're just a housekeeper." Sophia ignored her and continued packing. Claire spoke again. "Oh, by the way, I know about the contract you signed with Damien. Basically just using you as a tool, right? Now that he's tired of playing, it's time for a replacement." Sophia's movements stopped. She slowly straightened and turned to look at Claire. "Claire." "Yes?" "Do you really like Damien that much?" Claire raised an eyebrow. "Of course." "Then do you know why he broke up with you back then?" Claire's smile stiffened. "What are you talking about?" Sophia looked at her coolly. "He didn't break up with you because you went abroad." "It was because you slept with his best friend." Claire's expression changed instantly. "You're talking nonsense!" "Whether I'm talking nonsense or not, go ask Damien." Sophia's tone remained calm, as if discussing ancient history that had nothing to do with her. "You think he loves you that much? He's only in pain from being betrayed, so he idealized you into a perfect phantom." "He doesn't love you. He loves the Claire Bennett in his imagination."" Sophia zipped up her suitcase. The sound was especially clear in the quiet room. "I'm giving Damien to you. I wish you both happiness." She dragged her suitcase and walked past Claire. When she reached the door, she paused. She didn't turn back. "Oh, and when you two get married, remember to send me an invitation." Her voice was as light as a breeze. "I won't be coming." Then she pushed open the door and walked out. In the living room, Damien stood there. He watched her drag her suitcase. His chest felt like someone had punched it hard. "Sophia." He called her name. Sophia didn't stop. As she passed by him, Damien reached out and grabbed her arm. "Don't go." His voice was hoarse. Sophia looked down at his hand gripping her arm, then raised her head to meet his eyes. "Damien, the contract has expired." She pried his fingers open one by one. After all these years, she finally saw something indescribable in Damien's face. Panic.
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