After the Divorce, I Became the Billionaire's Lost Daughter

　　Zachary sat at the edge of the hospital bed, staring blankly at the woman lying before him, her face drained of color.

　　The doctor had just told him the baby was gone.

　　It was the outcome he'd wanted. So why did something twist, sharp and sudden, behind his ribs?

　　Just then, Trudy's phone lit up with a notification.

　　Trudy, everything you asked for has been compiled and sent over. Also, in two days we'll meet at the airport...

　　The rest of the message was cut off.

　　Zachary's pulse spiked. He reached for the phone on instinct, but he didn't know her passcode.

　　Then he remembered. Trudy had once told him her password was the date they first met.

　　His fingers tapped the screen. The numbers went in. Password incorrect.

　　He frowned and tried several other dates.

　　Every single one failed.

　　Trudy opened her eyes. Her hand drifted to her stomach. It was flat. Empty.

　　"The baby..."

　　"Where's my baby?"

　　Zachary's knuckles were white around the phone. His voice came out low and rough. "Gone."

　　Trudy closed her eyes. The pain in her chest was so absolute she couldn't breathe.

　　If someone had pulled her out of that pool in time, the baby might have survived.

　　But Zachary had chosen. Between her and Serena, he'd chosen to let his child die.

　　She'd given up on this man long ago. She knew that. But the baby was different. The thought of what he'd cost her carved through every wall she'd built.

　　She closed her eyes and let the tears run.

　　"Get out."

　　Zachary's face went pale. "Trudy, Serena is the billionaire's daughter. If anything happened to her, her father would crush the Simmons family. We wouldn't stand a chance."

　　"I sent someone to save you. They just... got there too late."

　　Trudy didn't want to hear it.

　　She opened her eyes and fixed them on Zachary. Nothing but hatred.

　　"I said get out!"

　　"I don't want to look at you!"

　　Zachary's face cycled between white and gray. He looked at her, at the bloodless skin and hollow fury, and guilt crawled through him like something alive.

　　"Fine. Get some rest. I'll come check on you later."

　　He set down the phone, turned, and left like he was fleeing a fire.

　　Trudy pressed both hands over her face. The sound that came out of her was ragged, suffocated, barely human.

　　A long time passed before the shaking stopped.

　　She picked up her phone and opened the files her father had sent.

　　The truth about the car accident. Evidence of the plagiarism frame-up. And every filthy thing Serena had done over the years.

　　She forwarded everything to one person.

　　In two days, make sure all of this appears at Zachary's wedding.

　　Done.

　　When it was finished, Trudy closed her eyes, wanting just a moment of rest.

　　Her phone rang. Urgent, shrill.

　　"Trudy, it's bad. Matron Grace just took a turn for the worse. She needs a blood transfusion. You have the same rare blood type. You're the only match."

　　Trudy ripped the IV needle from the back of her hand. "I'm coming."

　　She rushed out of the room, hailed a cab, and raced to Matron Grace's hospital.

　　She found a nurse and told her she was there to donate blood for the patient.

　　The nurse took one look at her ashen face, and concern flickered in her eyes.

　　"Ma'am, you look quite weak. Are you sure you want to do this?"

　　Trudy nodded without hesitation. "However much she needs. Take it."

　　When the thick needle pierced her arm, her whole body shuddered.

　　But she thought of Matron Grace getting better, bit down on her lip, and held still through the pain.

　　Bag after bag was drawn. Trudy's vision blurred and her thoughts turned to static.

　　She forced herself to stay conscious. "The patient. How is she doing after the transfusion?"

　　The nurse's voice was quiet. "Much better. One more bag and her condition should stabilize."

　　Trudy exhaled. When the nurse pulled the needle out, she didn't stay seated.

　　She pushed herself up, wanting to see Matron Grace with her own eyes.

　　She made it two steps before the world went black and her knees hit the floor.

　　When she came to, she grabbed her phone and called her friend immediately.

　　"How's Matron Grace? Is she doing better?"

　　The other end went silent. One beat. Two. Then Trudy heard it: someone crying, muffled and low.

　　Her heart seized.

　　"Is she still not stable? I can give more blood. I'll tell the nurse to come draw it right now."

　　"Stop pretending!"

　　The voice on the other end was shaking with fury.

　　"Matron Grace is dead. Because you refused to give blood."