After My Fake Death, My Ex Begged for Mercy

My hands moved before I thought. I caught the baby.

The second he was in my arms, he let out a shriek that split the room.

Chloe was on me instantly—snatched him away and rounded on me：“What is wrong with you? You did something to him, didn't you?!”

“Shh, don't cry, don't cry, Mommy's here. Why are there red marks all over his neck? Those are fingerprints!”

“It was you! Constance! You tried to strangle him!”

“How can you be this vicious? He's a baby!”

I had only been checking whether the child was alright. Mark stepped forward and shoved me, hard.

I stumbled and fell, my forehead cracking against the edge of the coffee table. Blood ran down my face instantly.

“Are you insane, Constance? You tried to kill him!”

Mark's voice was pure fury. Not a trace of concern in his eyes. Nothing but cold accusation.

Chloe leaned into his arms and watched me on the floor, a winner's smile curling at the corner of her mouth.

I sat there, blood sliding down my cheek from my forehead.

The baby's crying gradually settled, and only then did Mark seem to remember I was still crumpled on the ground.

I got to my feet slowly. He moved toward me. “Connie, you're bleeding. Come here, let me see……”

I stepped back. I didn't want him touching me.

He kept coming.

I kept retreating, revulsion and fear driving every step, until my heel caught on the child's scooter behind me.

My whole body pitched backward, completely out of control.

Mark lunged to grab me, but his fingers only caught the hem of my shirt, and the force wasn't right. Instead of pulling me back, he sent me over the balcony railing.

“Connie!” I heard him scream.

It was the first time I'd ever seen real fear in his eyes—not the performed kind, but actual panic.

I thought it was over. That this was the way out. My body was weightless, falling, and my mind went completely blank.

But the next second he had me in his arms, scooping me up with a force that felt unhinged.

He half-carried, half-dragged me into the car, slammed the accelerator to the floor, and tore toward the hospital.

His hands wouldn't stop shaking the entire way. He couldn't focus, couldn't sit still.

At the hospital I was wheeled straight into surgery.

Mark paced outside the operating room for over three hours, white-faced, jaw clenched, hands still trembling, until the light above the door finally went dark.

That was when his phone rang. It was Chloe.

Her voice came through soft and fragile：“Mark, I feel terrible. I think I'm having an allergic reaction. I can barely breathe. Can you please come back and stay with me?”

He looked at me, just wheeled out, still unconscious. Something flickered in his eyes. Then he leaned close to my ear.

“Connie—I'm sorry, Chloe can't manage without me. I'll be back soon, okay? I'll be quick.”

He turned and walked out of the hospital.

The nurses wheeled me into a room alone. My consciousness drifted back in fragments.

The pain was everywhere, so bad I could barely move, but the despair underneath it was worse.

“You're awake? How are you feeling?”

I turned toward the unfamiliar voice. A doctor.

He pulled down his surgical mask, and I looked up. My breath caught.

It was Nolan Gilbert. The blind date my father had arranged.

Years ago, my father had divorced my mother. Her volatility had finally driven him away for good.

He'd gone overseas alone and taken a teaching position at a university abroad.

Not long before all of this, he'd introduced me to Nolan.

He said that in all his years of teaching, Nolan was the finest student he'd ever had.

But I'd been with Mark then, so I turned my father down again and again.

Nolan recognized me too. Surprise flickered across his face, and then something that looked like pain. ：“It's me. You're not mistaken.”

I looked at him. A faint light surfaced in my eyes, only to be swallowed almost instantly by despair.

My voice came out so weak it was barely audible. ：“Dr. Gilbert, can you do me a favor?”

He stiffened for a moment, then nodded without hesitation. ：“Name it. If it's in my power, I'll do it.”

I held his gaze and said it word by word. ：“Write me a death certificate.”