When the CEO's Wife Seeks Power, Not Love

"Remove the mango cheesecake. Bring the strawberry mousse instead."

"And the foie gras. Switch it to the steak."

The moment Simon Henson arrived, he started commanding the waiter to overhaul the entire table.

I watched in silence as the dishes I had carefully chosen were cleared away one by one. My appetite vanished. A cold knot twisted in its place.

"Is Jasmine going to be mad?"

The girl in the wheelchair looked up at me with wide, timid eyes.

Today was New Year's Eve. It was also our anniversary.

But I was used to this routine. Every major holiday, Simon brought his adopted sister along. She was his responsibility, after all—her leg had been crushed for his sake.

Simon smoothed her hair. "Your Jasmine isn't that petty."

He turned to me, his gaze softening into a practiced apology.

I forced a smile. "It's fine."

It didn't matter anymore. From this moment on, whatever Simon did would no longer concern me.

——

As soon as Simon finished speaking, Sarah Henson added cautiously, "Jasmine, I'm sorry. I didn't do it on purpose."

"The doctor said my leg recovers slower when I'm in a bad mood, so my brother..."

She stopped halfway, her voice dissolving into soft, barely audible sobs.

Simon immediately crouched down, pulling out a tissue to dab at tears that didn't exist.

"Alright, alright, it's not your fault."

"It's on me. I forgot to ask her in advance."

He looked up. His eyes hardened the second they landed on me.

"Jasmine, apologize to Sarah."

"You scared her."

My smile stiffened. Froze on my face.

"Scared her? How?"

"Didn't I just say it was fine?"

Simon's patience snapped.

"You call that fine? Dissatisfaction is written all over your face!"

"Sarah is in poor health. Is it so hard for you to yield to her, just a little?"

His raised voice drew curious glances from the neighboring tables.

I lowered my head, refusing to play the role of the immature shrew in this public farce.

"Fine. Sorry."

I looked directly at Sarah, enunciating every word.

"I shouldn't have been unhappy. I shouldn't have scared you."

Sarah's face went pale. She shook her head frantically.

"No, Jasmine, don't be like that! It's all my fault!"

"Brother, stop blaming Jasmine. Let's just go home. I won't eat anymore, okay?"

As she spoke, she tried to maneuver her wheelchair around.

The wheel clipped the table leg. A sharp cry of pain escaped her lips. Her body tilted precariously to the side.

Simon reacted instantly, catching her before she fell. He whipped his head around, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

"Jasmine Delgado! Are you satisfied now?!"

He scooped Sarah into his arms and stormed out of the restaurant, leaving me behind without a backward glance.

The waiter stood there awkwardly, the strawberry mousse still in his hand.

"Miss, this..."

I picked up my coat.

"Pack it up. Someone likes it."

When I returned to the villa, it was pitch black.

I went straight to the second floor.

The master bedroom door was tightly shut. From inside came the sound of Sarah's suppressed weeping and Simon's gentle, murmuring comfort.

"I told you, she didn't mean it."

"She just has that temper. It's not your first day knowing her."

"Is your leg more important, or her mood? It's not even a question."

I stood outside the door, listening as his words stabbed through my chest like shards of glass.

My stomach churned violently.

I rushed into the bathroom and retched until the world spun around me.

In my pocket, my fist clenched around the plastic stick until the edges bit into my palm. The pregnancy test was crushed out of shape.

Simon... our child.

Would this baby also be less important than her leg?