Johan carried her belongings, speaking earnestly again: “Seriously, you and Wesley are divorced. Leave him.”


    Cecilia sighed bitterly. “It’s not that I don’t want to leave. Wesley won’t let me go.”


    He said one life for another, that was the deal.


    Though asionally she didn’t want this child, it clung stubbornly in her belly whenever she considered giving up.


    Making her relent.


    Johan seemed lost in thought, gaze distant.


    Until a tearful call echoed down the hallway.


    “Johan.”


    It was Larissa, supported by Tania, tear tracks staining her cheeks.


    Johan held Cecilia’s bag, lifting indifferent eyes. “What is it?”


    His tone was icy.


    Larissa bit her lip, stepping closer. Mist clouded her eyes while a forced smile touched her lips.


    “You… you never came to see me.”


    She nced at the bag in his hand, jealousy ring


    Cecilia truly was clever.


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    “I’m busy.”


    Johan clicked his tongue impatiently. “If there’s nothing important, I’m leaving.”


    Larissa dug her nails into her palms, lips trembling. “Johan, when we were together, things had been so good… How could you just—<b>” </b>


    How could you just change?


    Her voice choked off.


    Johan’s expression remained detached, showing no gentlemanly consideration.


    “Isn’t it normal for men and women to break up?”


    He tossed out the words, turning to follow Cecilia.


    Larissa chased two steps, then halted.


    It’s all Cecilia. She monopolizes Wesley and wants her best friend to take over Johan.


    They are going to steal her man.


    Downstairs, Cecilia waited for the car.


    Johan stood beside her, repeating the same words: “If you want to leave Wesley, I can help.”


    Cecilia looked at him calmly.


    “If you truly want to help, release Corrine.”


    “I promise she’ll leave Aetherton and never appear before you again.”


    Johan’s casual expression instantly darkened. “Impossible.”


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    Cecilia stopped speaking.


    Cecilia returned to Chaston Vi.


    Upon entering, she heard a familiar voice.


    She hurried into the living room and saw Noah Robinson Wilkinson.


    Freshly discharged Noah, still pale–faced, yed with toys.


    Wesley sat on the sofa, his expression gentle.


    Such a warm scene, yet Cecilia felt icy chills through her bones.


    She walked over, every muscle tense.


    Noah, who hadn’t seen her in ages, immediately rushed to hug her leg, calling out sweetly.


    “Mommy.”


    Cecilia forced a smile and ruffled his hair.


    She told the maid to take Noah elsewhere to y.


    Then, the gentle voice became a suppressed, hysterical demand.


    “Wesley, are you using Noah to threaten me?”


    Wesley narrowed his eyes and stood up.


    Seeing Noah, she showed no joy, only usation and suspicion.


    “Cecilia, is this how you see me?”


    Cecilia dug her nails into her palms, fighting back overwhelming emotions.


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    Herugh dripped with sarcasm.


    “Yes. To me, this is exactly who you are.”


    “Let me guess–you brought Noah here because of Larissa. Afraid I’ll go after her again?”


    Mockery filled her eyes, devoid of any trust.


    Their trust had long since crumbled.


    Wesley watched her silently, thin lips curved into a mocking arc.


    “Yes.”


    He admitted it.


    After all, in her mind, everything he did had ulterior motives.


    Even if he exined, she wouldn’t believe him.


    His gaze drifted to Noah ying nearby, his tone t.


    “So you’d better stay here and rest. Or I can’t promise what might happen to that little brat.”


    Cecilia’s nails bit deeper into her flesh. “Wesley, he just had surgery.”


    How heartless–dragging Noah here.


    Completely disregarding the child’s health.


    Wesley’s expression darkened, his piercing eyes turning cial.


    “I saved his life.”


    A lump formed in Cecilia’s throat. Words failed her as her eyes misted


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    Cold, detached words rang out.


    “So you’d better stay home resting for the pregnancy and fulfill our agreement.”


    Cecilia slowly unclenched her palm, eyes red–rimmed, face deathly pale.


    She looked toward Noah over there.


    Heart–wrenching pain seized her.


    Her voice came out hoarse–a mix of hatred and surrender.


    “Fine, I’ll obey. Send him back to the Wilkinson estate.”


    Once again, she yielded.


    For Noah, she had no choice but to yield.


    She despised her own powerlessness.


    Wesley merely watched her, icy and unmoved.


    Cecilia’s nerves snapped taut. Tears blurred her vision as her voice instantly sharpened-


    “Send him away now!”


    Noah heard her. His little legs scurrying, he ran over and clung to Cecilia’s leg.


    Tilting his little face up with worry, he cried out:


    “Mommy, why are you crying?”


    Noah dropped his toy, teary–eyed as if about to cry.


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    Cecilia wiped her face, forcing a smile as she crouched to hug him.


    “Mommy’s fine, probably just something got in my eye.”


    She shouldn’t have yelled like that.


    She’d scared Noah.


    Noah stood on tiptoe, puckering his lips.


    “Let me blow on it for Mommy.”


    Cecilia couldn’t hold back, tears flooding harder.


    How could she protect this child?


    Noah pressed his lips tight, thinking his small hands couldn’t help Mommy enough.


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