Eleven Miscarriages, One Final Cut

At noon, traffic was at its worst. Ethan was stuck on the road, laying on the horn over and over again.

Images of Clara with her swollen belly kept flashing through his mind, guilt weighing heavily on his chest.

How could he be such a bastard?

How could he leave Clara, fragile and pregnant, alone in the mansion and walk away without a care?

He had to go back and make it right with her.

For the next while, he would have to stay by her side properly.

But the moment he pushed open the door, his entire body froze.

Everything that belonged to Clara was gone. The mansion was empty, just like his heart at that moment.

"Clara? Clara, where are you?"

He searched the rooms frantically but found no trace of Clara.

Had she gone back to the hospital on her own?

With trembling hands, he called Clara, only to find her phone already turned off.

The unease in his chest grew stronger.

He immediately called the hospital, but the person on the other end sounded confused.

"Sir, the pregnant patient in that room has already been discharged and hasn't returned."

"That's impossible. Her pregnancy was unstable. She was supposed to stay in the hospital until delivery. How could she have been discharged?"

The nurse sounded baffled. "Huh? Didn't that patient already have the abortion? The doctor advised her to stay and recover, but she insisted on leaving. There was nothing we could do."

Hearing this, Ethan instantly relaxed.

"Then I must have remembered the wrong room number. She cares deeply about her child. There's no way she would have an abortion."

He hung up at once, yet his heart began pounding violently.

As if something terrible was about to happen.

Ethan grabbed his phone to make another call, only to realize it had shut down. His hand shook uncontrollably.

He left the mansion and drove straight to the slum apartment.

He kept reassuring himself that Clara had probably gone to see her mother.

Terrified that something had happened to Clara, he pounded on the door like mad.

His mind filled with horrifying images of Clara lying in a pool of blood, the child lost.

His heart raced as fear swallowed him whole.

At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to kick the door down.

Thankfully, the door finally opened, and he let out a breath.

He blurted out in a rush, "I'm sorry, Clara. I'm late. You—"

When he saw the unfamiliar face before him, Ethan's expression twisted with fury.

"What are you doing in my house? Get out. Now!"

The other man was tall and burly. Hearing that, he instantly lost his temper and raised a fist.

"This is my house. If you don't leave, don't blame me for getting rough."

Ethan looked around in confusion. This was clearly the old house where Clara's mother had lived.

He spoke firmly, "This is my house. Where's Clara? I need to see her."

The man's expression softened as realization dawned on him.

Keeping his patience, he said, "Are you a friend of Clara's? She already sold the house to me. If you're looking for her, you'll have to try somewhere else."

In an instant, Ethan felt like he'd fallen into an ice abyss.

How could Clara possibly have sold the house?

Ignoring the man's protests, he forced his way inside.

As expected, Clara's mother's memorial photo and ashes were nowhere to be seen in the living room.

Hadn't she come here because she missed her mother?

Why would she sell it?

A possibility suddenly struck him, cold sweat breaking out down his back.

Had she found out?

He called Clara again and again, but her phone remained off.

At that moment, he finally realized something was terribly wrong.

He rushed outside, desperate to find Clara, only to realize he had no idea where she might go.

Clara had no family left and hardly any friends.

She had always relied on him to survive. Where else could she possibly go now?

Ethan forced himself to calm down and made a call. "Check Clara's whereabouts for me. Find out where she's gone."

The other man hesitated, clearly wanting to ask more but not daring to. He only murmured a quiet acknowledgment.

After he hung up, Ivy's personal ringtone rang.

A wave of irritation washed over him. He clicked his tongue and hung up.

But the calls kept coming, as if she wouldn't stop until he answered.

Left with no choice, he answered.

He growled impatiently, "What do you want now?"

A panicked scream came through the line, as if she'd been frightened by something. "Babe, come quickly!"

Ethan sounded annoyed. "If something's wrong, find a doctor. I'm busy."

On any other day, hearing Ivy like this, he would've rushed over without hesitation.

What he liked most was how dependent she was, clinging to him for everything.

But now, all he felt was irritation.

Ivy's terrified cries continued ringing in his ears.

"They're trying to kick me out of the hospital. They said Clara ordered it. She even had people scare me on purpose. My stomach hurts so badly…"

"What did you say?"

Ethan finally became alert. He straightened up and said, "I'll be there right away."

He started the car and sped toward the hospital, running more than a dozen red lights along the way.

The moment he pushed the door open, he demanded, "Where's Clara? Where is she?"

Ivy threw herself into his arms, pointing at the hospital staff and shouting hysterically.

"They're the ones trying to kick me out. Teach them a lesson!"

Only then did Ethan look over and see the hospital director standing at the door with dozens of security guards, their expressions cold.

The director, one of Clara's father's men, spoke arrogantly, "These are the abortion consent form and the divorce agreement sent by Miss Fulton. This hospital is Miss Fulton's property. You are not welcome here. Leave immediately. Throw them out, along with everything they brought."