When Dawn Breaks, All is Calm

So, I hired a few well-known models. However, when I glanced over the list earlier, Quinn’s name definitely wasn’t on it. Then, it hit me. One of the scheduled models couldn’t make it, and Quinn was brought in as a last-minute replacement.

At that thought, I lifted my gaze and said calmly, “Shouldn’t you be heading backstage to get ready by now?”

Quinn’s expression stiffened, clearly offended by my tone.

“Don’t pretend to know what you’re talking about,” she snapped. “You think you understand better than I do, do you? I have plenty of time.”

I frowned. With an attitude like that, it was no surprise she hadn’t made any real progress all these years.

Noticing that I was alone, Quinn suddenly hooked her arm around Jake’s, leaning into him as she spoke in a sweet voice, “Emma, did something happen to you? This cruise isn’t exactly a place just anyone can get into. I’ve heard some people sneak in with scalped tickets, hoping to hook up with a rich husband.”

Her words carried an obvious undertone.

Jake looked at me, his expression complicated. His gaze dropped briefly to my clothes before he spoke, his voice tinged with disappointment.

“Emma, this isn’t the kind of outfit you should be wearing. Did you rent it or borrow it?” As he spoke, he pulled out a card and held it out to me. “There are two hundred thousand dollars on here. After all, you’re the mother of my child. I can’t just stand and watch you go down the wrong path. I thought you were so decisive in leaving me because you had something better waiting for you, but I didn’t expect… this.”

His tone carried a faint, condescending pity.

Quinn covered her mouth as she laughed softly. “Maybe it’s a knockoff. Emma, you don’t have to feel embarrassed. This amount of money isn’t much to us, but it should be enough to keep you from looking so miserable.”

However, right after she said that, a young woman suddenly chimed in.

“It’s not a knockoff. You can tell from the craftsmanship and the fabric. It’s the latest piece from the designer, Bridgette. It’s actually very hard to get your hands on one.”

Quinn’s face froze. She turned, ready to lash out, but when she saw it was an old acquaintance, Natalie Grace, her expression changed.

Natalie lit up in surprise and immediately rushed over to hug her. “Oh my god, it really is you! How have you been? After you got pregnant, you just disappeared.”

As she spoke, she glanced at Spencer, a hint of confusion crossing her face. “Is this your son? The timeline doesn’t seem to add up.”

Quinn’s expression tensed, but she forced a smile, replying, “There were some complications. I lost the baby.”

I was a little surprised, yet not really. Jake had low sperm motility, and to protect his pride, I never told him the truth back then. Behind the scenes, I went through countless hormone injections just to keep the pregnancy stable. At one point, I even suffered a hemorrhage and nearly couldn’t carry the baby to term.

Instead of comforting me, Jake did nothing but criticize me, even while I was still recovering after childbirth. I cried for three days straight. It wasn’t until my vision started to blur and fade that I realized I couldn’t keep going like that.

Those memories felt like a long, filthy rag—torn and impossible to clean. I let out a quiet breath and forced myself not to dwell on it.

Natalie let out an awkward laugh, offered a few words of comfort, and then quickly left. I checked the time and was about to leave when suddenly, Quinn grabbed my arm. Her fingers dug deep into my skin.

Her composure completely shattered, her face twisted with hatred as she snapped, “Are you happy to hear that I lost the baby? It’s all your fault! You’re the reason Jake never came home. He was out looking for you! I got so upset that I miscarried. You’re a murderer!”

The pain made me shove her away on instinct. Then, I froze.

He had been looking for me? Why? Wasn’t he the one who insisted on the divorce in my past life? And besides, what did Quinn’s miscarriage have to do with me? His sperm quality had always been poor, and she had been dieting the entire time. If the baby was lost, that was on her.

I looked down at my arm. The crescent-shaped marks had broken the skin, faint traces of blood surfacing. As my skin bruised easily, Luca would notice it immediately.