Liam Blackwood and I both struggled with fertility, yet we desperately wanted a child. After three years of marriage, countless doctor visits, and medications, I finally conceived. Just as I was about to tell him the happy news, I saw him with his arm around his mistress’s waist, standing before me, and he said coldly: “Serena’s baby needs a father. Let’s get a divorce.” I walked out of the hospital, clutching my pregnancy test report. The scorching July sun blinded me. The words “intrauterine early pregnancy, approximately 7 weeks” on the paper made my eyes well up. Three years. We had finally waited for this tiny life. My fingers unconsciously grazed my still-flat abdomen. I imagined Liam’s expression when he heard the news. For this child, how many bitter medicines had he drunk? How many IV drips had he endured? He had even swallowed his pride, practically begging those “specialist” doctors. After every failure, he would hold me close and say, “Evie, it’s okay. We have each other, and that’s enough.” But I knew how much he wanted a child. Every time he saw someone else’s baby in the park, his gaze would follow them for a long, long time. I pulled out my phone, snapped a photo of the report, then deleted it. Something this big, I had to tell him in person. I decided to cook all his favorite dishes and open a bottle of red wine we’d saved from our wedding. I wanted to see him so surprised he couldn’t speak, to see him gently touch my belly. I made a detour to the supermarket for the freshest ingredients, then stopped at a florist for a few sunflowers—he always said they reminded him of me, always facing the sun. As I reached our front door, still planning the dinner setup, I noticed the door was unlocked. “Liam? Are you home?” I pushed the door open. My words died in my throat as I froze in the entryway. In the living room, Liam and Serena Hayes stood incredibly close. No, not just close. His arm was around her shoulder, and she was leaning into his embrace. My grocery bag dropped to the floor, oranges rolling everywhere. “Evie…” Liam quickly let go of Serena, a flicker of panic crossing his face. Then, he regained that familiar, calm expression he used for business, “Perfect timing. I have something to tell you.” Serena ran a hand through her hair, flashing me a pitying smile. That smile made my stomach churn. Serena and Liam had grown up together. She was even my bridesmaid at our wedding. For the past three years, she had always appeared in our lives at just the right moment. Bringing Liam late-night snacks when he worked overtime, keeping him company when I was on a business trip, all under the innocent guise of “just being friends.” “Serena is pregnant.” Liam’s voice was utterly calm, as if he were commenting on the weather. “It’s not my child, but her family situation is complicated, and they can’t accept an unmarried pregnancy. I’ve agreed to be the child’s father.” My ears buzzed. The bouquet in my hand fell to the floor. Serena bent down to pick it up, and beneath her loose-fitting top, I could clearly see a slight bump. “So?” I heard my own voice ask, unnervingly calm. “So…” Liam took a deep breath. “Let’s get a divorce. I’ll compensate you. The house is yours, and we’ll split our savings evenly.” I looked at Serena. She was stroking her belly, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. I suddenly remembered last month, Liam said he had a work dinner and wouldn’t be home. But I saw a night-view photo Serena posted on her Ins, and in the corner, a man’s hand clearly wore the same watch as Liam. “Okay.” I heard myself say. Liam visibly flinched. He probably had a whole speech prepared to convince me, but he hadn’t expected me to agree so readily. “You… don’t have anything to say?” He asked. I shook my head, bending down to pick up the scattered groceries. “When should we finalize the paperwork?” “Tomorrow, I guess, before you…” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes flickering. “Before I change my mind?” I finished his sentence for him, “I smiled. Don’t worry, I won’t.” I walked into the kitchen and put the salvageable ingredients into the fridge. The pregnancy test report lay in my bag, burning through the fabric. Three years of trying for a child, how many bitter medicines had he drunk? How many injections had I received? All those nights we cried in each other’s arms, it turned out, meant nothing compared to an unknown child in Serena’s womb. That evening, as Liam packed his bags, I sat on the balcony, watching the stars. He walked over, wanting to say something but remaining silent. “Don’t worry, I haven’t changed my mind. I didn’t agree out of spite. I just suddenly realized that for these three years, you didn’t love *me*, you only loved a woman who could give you a child.” “That’s not true…” He tried to argue but ultimately fell silent. The next day, the divorce process was surprisingly quick. As the official stamp fell, I vaguely recalled three years ago, when we came here to register our marriage, he was so nervous he dropped his ID card. “Thank you for these three years,” I said calmly, turning to leave, but then I saw Serena walking from the other end of the hall. “I arranged for Serena to come for the marriage certificate,” Liam explained awkwardly. “Figured… it’d save us another trip.” I nodded and walked toward the street. As I turned, through the glass doors, I saw Liam carefully helping Serena by her waist, whispering something to her. On his face was that familiar, long-awaited gentle expression. It turned out he wasn’t incapable of love; he just didn’t love me. I touched my belly, hailed a taxi, and said, “To City Central Hospital, please.” 2 Walking out of the courthouse, the July sun poured down like molten gold, blinding me. I stood on the steps, clutching my divorce certificate, its edges sharp enough to cut my fingers. Inside the glass doors, Liam was helping Serena fill out their marriage application. He leaned in to whisper something to her, a gentle curve on his lips I had never seen before. Serena giggled, playfully punching his chest. That intimate gesture… how could it be just a relationship of responsibility for a sudden pregnancy? A sharp pang shot through my abdomen. I instinctively clutched my stomach. For the past three years, my periods had always been this painful. Doctors said it was one of the symptoms of infertility caused by endometriosis. But now, a tiny life was growing inside my uterus—the child Liam had yearned for, yet had personally abandoned. Cold sweat trickled down my temples. The world before me began to twist and spin. I fumbled, reaching for the wall, but grasped at air. The last thing I heard was a gasp from passersby, then the world plunged into darkness. The smell of disinfectant stung my nostrils. I opened my eyes to a stark white ceiling. “You’re awake?” An unfamiliar male voice reached me. I turned my head, meeting a pair of serious eyes. The doctor was around forty, his name tag read: Dr. Alex Stone, Head of Obstetrics. “I…” “Evelyn Reed, 32 years old, 7 weeks pregnant. Preliminary diagnosis for fainting is low blood sugar combined with emotional fluctuation.” He flipped through my medical chart. “You know you’re a high-risk pregnancy due to age, right?” My fingers tightened on the bedsheet. “The fetus is stable for now, but your underlying health isn’t great, and you’ve had long-term hormonal imbalance. This pregnancy is quite miraculous.” Dr. Stone adjusted his glasses. “If you want to keep this child, you must be extremely careful.” The ward door pushed open, and my cousin, Chloe Jensen, rushed in, still holding my bag. “Evie! You scared me to death!” She practically pounced on the bed, then managed to compose herself slightly when she saw the doctor. “Doctor, how is my cousin?” Dr. Stone repeated the situation. Chloe’s expression went from worried to shocked, finally settling on fury. “Does that scumbag Liam Blackwood know?” I shook my head, my stomach churning again. Dr. Stone discreetly left the room, leaving us two cousins alone. Chloe gripped my hand, noticing I was trembling. “Are you going to tell him?” Outside, on the sycamore tree, a bird chirped tirelessly. I remembered the joy in Liam’s eyes this morning when he touched Serena’s belly, and that soft “Thank you for making me a dad” felt like a blunt knife, repeatedly carving at my nerves. “No.” I heard myself say. “He doesn’t deserve to know.” Chloe sighed, taking my check-up report and a termination consent form from her bag. “Then these…” “I’m keeping this baby.” I gently stroked my abdomen. It was still flat, but a small life had already taken root. Call me selfish, but this might be my only chance to be a mother. Chloe’s eyes reddened. She hugged me tight: “Don’t say such silly things! I’ll raise the baby with you! We’ve never needed a man to get by!” I leaned on her shoulder, tears silently falling. For three years of marriage, Liam had been almost my entire world. And now, before the dust of that collapsed world had even settled, new life was already budding in the ruins. After being discharged, I moved into Chloe’s apartment. She insisted I rest for a week before going back to work, cooking up different nourishing meals every day. “Are you taking care of a pregnant woman or feeding a pig?” I laughed wryly, looking at the fifth dish on the table. “Less talk, you’re eating for two now!” Chloe put a piece of fish in my bowl. “Oh, right. I contacted a lawyer for you, Julian Thorne. He specializes in high-stakes divorce settlements, very well-known. Tomorrow morning at ten, go to his office to chat.” My fork paused. “As for assets, Liam said the house is mine, and we’ll split the savings…” “You believe him?” Chloe scoffed. “A man’s promises when he’s cheating are worth less than toilet paper. Don’t forget, Blackwood & Reed Creative was co-founded by both of you, and you own 40%!” I fell silent. Blackwood & Reed Creative—I had even come up with the name, combining a part of both our names. In three years, we had grown from a two-person studio to an advertising agency of over fifty people, specializing in high-end brand design. Liam handled client relations, and I managed creative design. We were considered a golden duo in the industry. The next day, I arrived at Thorne Legal Associates as planned. The receptionist led me to an office where a man in a dark grey suit stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to me, talking on the phone. “Mr. Henderson, we’ve taken your company’s case, but one thing must be clear—” He turned around, giving me a slight nod when he saw me. “Without sufficient evidence, I don’t recommend litigation… Okay, send the documents to my email this afternoon.” He hung up and extended his hand to me. “Ms. Reed? I’m Julian Thorne.” As I shook his hand, I noticed that this renowned lawyer was younger than I expected. Around thirty-five, with sharp eyes, but a surprisingly gentle voice. “Chloe Jensen briefly introduced your situation to me.” Julian gestured for me to sit down. “First of all, I deeply sympathize with what you’ve been through.” “Thank you, but I need professional advice more.” I looked him straight in the eye. “I want to know how I can secure my maximum interests within the bounds of the law.” Julian raised an eyebrow slightly, seemingly surprised by my directness. He pulled out a form. “Please fill out your basic information first, including marriage date, joint assets, individual shareholdings, etc.” As I filled it out, he added, “Chloe mentioned you both operated an advertising company?” “Blackwood & Reed Creative. I own 40%, Liam Blackwood owns 60%.” I paused. “But in practice, we always maintained a true 50/50 partnership.” Julian jotted something down in his notebook. “Do you have access to the company’s financial statements for the past three years?” “Yes, I’m the Creative Director and involved in management.” “Excellent.” He nodded. “I suggest you back up these documents as soon as possible, including client lists, contract copies, bank statements, etc.” My heart tightened. “You suspect Liam might tamper with things?” Julian didn’t answer directly. “Prevention is better than cure. In my experience, it’s not uncommon for assets to be transferred before or after a divorce.” He opened The Civil Code, pointing to several legal provisions. “Based on your situation, marital joint property should, in principle, be divided equally. However, if there are acts of concealment or transfer of assets, the offending party may receive less or no share.” The conversation lasted nearly two hours. Julian meticulously analyzed every possibility. As I left, he handed me a business card: “24-hour availability. Contact me anytime if anything comes up.” “As for fees…” I hesitated. “Chloe is a college friend of mine; we’ve already sorted it out.” He smiled faintly. “Consider it a welcome gift for the little one.” I paused. Chloe, that bigmouth, had already told him about my pregnancy? Julian seemed to sense my confusion. “She only mentioned you might need legal advice during pregnancy, but I guessed.” His gaze fell on my hand, which I unconsciously protected my abdomen with. “Occupational hazard, observing details.” Back home, I opened my laptop, logged into the company system, and started backing up important files. While reviewing the past three months’ financial records, a set of unusual numbers caught my attention. Last month, a sum of 500,000 had been transferred to an account named “Serena Studios,” with the note “brand collaboration prepayment.” Serena? Serena Hayes? I searched the company’s project list. There were no records related to “Serena Studios.” Scrolling further back, there were two similar transfers, totaling 1.2 million. That much money was enough to buy a studio apartment in the city center. A SnapChat notification popped up. It was from Julian: “Forgot to remind you: check the company account’s login records. Look for any unusual IPs.” I checked the backend logs and found that my account had been logged in three times at 2 AM over the past month. The IP address showed the West End—the district where Liam and Serena now lived. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time. I ultimately didn’t take a screenshot. Instead, I picked up my phone and called Julian. “I think I’ve found some evidence,” I said, my voice calmer than I expected. “Liam Blackwood has been transferring money to Serena Hayes using the company’s account.” Silence on the other end for a moment. “Can you prove this payment doesn’t correspond to actual business?” “I’m checking now.” I clicked on the project management system. “But it’s very suspicious. The project numbers for these three transfers don’t exist.” “Don’t alarm them,” Julian’s voice grew serious. “First, gather a complete chain of evidence. If possible, I’ll come to your company tomorrow under the guise of a legal consultant to review the original documents.” Hanging up, I leaned back in my chair, feeling a wave of exhaustion. Outside, the night was deep, the city lights scattered like stars. Once upon a time, Liam and I would often work late like this, then walk hand-in-hand to a noodle shop downstairs for a late-night snack. He’d always order two plates of dumplings – I loved the wrapper, he loved the filling. Now, he was probably with Serena, getting a prenatal check-up. I heard she was four months pregnant, a full nine weeks ahead of my baby. I gently stroked my abdomen. There were no changes yet, but I knew a tiny life was quietly growing. For this child, I had to be strong. Liam Blackwood wants to use my money to support his mistress? Dream on. 3 Monday morning, I stood before the Reed Arts building, gazing up at the twenty-story glass-walled structure. Three years ago, when Liam and I rented a small office here, we used to joke that one day, the entire building would be ours. Now, the company indeed occupied the top three floors, but my marriage lay in fragments. In the elevator, I adjusted my collar, reflected in the metal doors. I had deliberately chosen this dark blue suit jacket. Its loose cut perfectly concealed my slightly bulging abdomen, and the padded shoulders made me look more commanding. At eleven weeks pregnant, the morning sickness was torturous, but at least my figure hadn’t noticeably changed yet. “Good morning, Ms. Reed!” Sarah, the receptionist, visibly stiffened when she saw me. “You… you’re back to work?” “Yes, my leave is over.” I smiled, my gaze sweeping over the new business card holder on her desk. Beneath the gilded company logo, the original “Blackwood & Reed Creative” seemed to have been redesigned, the font more ornate. The elevator doors opened again, and Serena Hayes, arm linked with Liam’s, stepped out. She wore a form-fitting magenta dress, her abdomen noticeably rounded, at least two months larger than mine. Seeing me, her fingers instinctively tightened, her nails almost digging into Liam’s suit sleeve. “Evie…” Liam’s steps faltered, his eyes flickering. “Are you feeling better?” I noticed he said “feeling” rather than “mood.” It seemed he knew about my fainting and hospitalization, but Chloe definitely hadn’t revealed the specific reason. “Thanks for your concern, much better.” I nodded, then turned my gaze to Serena. “Congratulations. Looks like you’re five months along?” A flicker of unnaturalness crossed Serena’s face. “Four months and three weeks.” She deliberately caressed her belly. “Liam talks about it all the time, says he can’t wait to be a father.” My stomach churned, whether from morning sickness or disgust, I couldn’t tell. Liam had once been just as excited for *our* child. Every time my period was late, he’d anxiously buy pregnancy tests, then mark the dates on our shared calendar. “Ms. Reed, you’re back at just the right time.” Serena suddenly raised her voice, pulling a stack of gilded invitations from her bag. “Our wedding is next month; you absolutely must attend.” She specifically drew one out and handed it to me. “You are, after all, our most important ex-wife and business partner.” Several passing colleagues immediately stopped, the air thick with awkwardness and curiosity. I took the invitation. The gilded “Liam Blackwood & Serena Hayes” lettering stung my eyes. “I’ll be there.” I smiled, tucking the invitation into my bag. “Oh, and Mr. Blackwood, don’t forget the quarterly financial report meeting at ten o’clock.” Liam frowned. “What financial report meeting?” “I sent out an email notice last week.” I feigned surprise. “As a 40% shareholder, I have the right to call an extraordinary general meeting to review the company’s recent large capital flows.” I lowered my voice. “Especially those transfers to Serena Studios.” Liam’s face instantly paled, while Serena sharply turned to look at him, her eyes full of accusation. In the conference room, I turned on the projector, displaying the financial statements on the screen. Besides Liam, the Finance Director, Robert Miller, and two other department heads were present. “According to company regulations, single expenditures over 200,000 require the signatures of all shareholders.” I pointed to the three transfers labeled “brand collaboration prepayment.” “Where are the project contracts corresponding to these three payments, totaling 1.7 million?” Liam cleared his throat. “These are for a new short-video business. The contracts are still under review by the legal department.” “Really?” I clicked open another document. “But the system shows that the client names corresponding to these three project numbers are all ‘Serena Studios,’ and business registration indicates that Ms. Serena Hayes is the legal representative of that company.” Robert Miller’s pen clattered to the floor. “Evie, we can discuss this privately.” Liam’s voice was low, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “Please call me Ms. Reed, Mr. Blackwood.” I smiled. “Furthermore, I’ve noticed that over the past two months, contracts for core clients, Fine Gems Jewelry and Athena Apparel, have been transferred to a newly established subsidiary, Serena Media. And my name is not on the shareholder list of that company.” The conference room fell silent. Liam’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He hadn’t expected me to investigate so thoroughly. “This is for business adjustment.” He finally managed to squeeze out. “Serena Media focuses on new media, which better suits these clients’ needs.” “Then why wasn’t a shareholders’ meeting convened for the transfer process, as per the company bylaws?” I pressed. “And, according to financial records, the renewal contracts for these clients last year were personally negotiated by me, yet the performance commissions were routed to the subsidiary’s account?” Liam was speechless. The meeting ended on a sour note, but I knew this was just the beginning. During lunch break, I hid in a restroom stall, finally unable to suppress the dry heaves over the toilet. The morning sickness came on suddenly and violently, as if trying to turn my insides out. “Ms. Reed?” A familiar male voice came from outside the door. “Do you need help?” My heart skipped a beat. Julian Thorne? Why was he here at the company? I turned on the faucet, splashed cold water on my face, and pushed open the stall door. Julian stood by the sink, holding a stack of documents, his suit impeccably pressed, as if he were attending a formal meeting. “How are you—” “Liam Blackwood invited me to discuss Serena Media’s legal structure.” He offered me a handkerchief, his gaze lingering on my pale face for a moment before politely shifting away. “Are you okay?” I took the handkerchief; it carried a faint scent of cedarwood. “I’m fine, just a little nauseous.” “Morning sickness usually subsides after 12 weeks.” He said, seemingly casually, yet it made my fingers tremble. “My sister was the same when she was pregnant.” I looked up at him. His expression was normal, as if he had just made a passing comment. But I knew he was telling me: he knew, and he would keep it a secret. “Thank you,” I said softly. “By the way, could you help me check Serena Media’s equity structure?” “Already looked into it.” Julian pulled a sheet of paper from his briefcase. “Liam Blackwood owns 60%, Serena Hayes 40%. Registered capital is 5 million, all from Reed Arts’ working capital.” I bit my lower lip. Five million, that was almost a third of the company’s cash on hand. “Don’t discuss it here.” Julian glanced at his watch. “Liam is still waiting for me in the meeting room. Too much delay will arouse suspicion. Seven tonight, at the Cloud Cafe downstairs?” I nodded. He turned to leave, then stopped. “Ms. Reed, whatever decision you make, remember to protect yourself first.” His gaze fell on my abdomen. “And… the baby.” Watching him walk away, I leaned against the sink, suddenly feeling a wave of exhaustion. This battle had just begun, and I was carrying a tiny life within me. For the child, I had to win. Back in my office, I found my access card no longer worked. Sarah, the receptionist, awkwardly explained, “Ms. Reed, all permissions were reset after the system upgrade… Mr. Blackwood said you’d need to reapply after your leave.” I scoffed. Was this Liam’s counterattack? Cutting off my access to the company system? “No problem, I understand.” I said gently. “Could you help me contact the IT department? I’d like to restore my access as soon as possible.” “IT said… it requires Mr. Blackwood’s signature.” I narrowed my eyes. It seemed Liam was determined to marginalize me. Luckily, I was prepared; all important documents had already been backed up. As quitting time approached, I was tidying my desk when Serena Hayes, wearing ten-centimeter heels, walked in, holding a bubble tea. “Oh, Ms. Reed, still working late?” She leaned against the doorframe, sipping her drink. “Liam said you don’t have system access anymore? So sorry, new company, new rules, you know, gotta standardize management.” I closed my folder. “Ms. Hayes, you’ve come personally to inform me?” —Yes, she had now taken my place as Creative Director. “Actually, I’m here to invite you to my prenatal appointment the day after tomorrow.” Serena’s smile was sweet. “Liam said he wants you to see the baby’s 4D ultrasound. After all… you two tried for so long without success.” My fingers tightened. My pen scraped a line across the document. “No, I’m very busy.” I stood up, taller than her by half a head. “By the way, remind Mr. Blackwood that, according to Article 33 of the Companies Act, shareholders have the right to inspect and copy company articles of association, shareholder meeting minutes, and financial accounting reports. If he continues to obstruct me from exercising my shareholder rights, I’ll have no choice but to apply for a court order.” Serena’s smile froze. “You… what do you mean?” “Exactly what it sounds like.” I picked up my bag and headed for the door, stopping beside her. “And just a friendly reminder, pregnant women should limit bubble tea; caffeine isn’t great for fetal neurological development.” Walking out of the building, the setting sun painted the clouds blood-red. I took a deep breath and called Julian Thorne. “Can we meet earlier? I’ve found some new developments.” On the other end, Julian’s voice was steady and firm: “Give me twenty minutes. See you at the cafe.” 4 The lighting at Cloud Cafe was dimmer than I expected. I chose the corner booth, backed by a wall of books, which perfectly shielded me from the entrance. Julian Thorne was ten minutes late. When he walked in, his suit jacket was off and draped over his arm, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing well-defined forearms. I noticed he wore a simple mechanical watch on his left wrist, not a flashy brand, but one with an understated quality. “Apologies, Liam Blackwood held me up.” As he sat down, he carried a faint scent of cedarwood. “He insisted on hiring me as Serena Media’s general counsel.” My hand, stirring my coffee, paused. “Did you accept?” “Of course not.” Julian’s lips curved slightly. “Conflict of interest. However, I took the opportunity to review Serena Media’s registration documents.” He pulled a folder from his briefcase. “The situation is more complicated than we thought.” The server delivered his Americano, and we both fell silent. Once the server left, Julian opened the file, pointing to a set of numbers. “Serena Media’s registered capital is 5 million, with 3 million from Reed Arts’ working capital and 2 million from a personal loan.” He lowered his voice. “The borrower is Serena Hayes, but the guarantor is Liam Blackwood.” I frowned. “What’s the problem with that?” “The problem lies in the collateral for this loan.” Julian flipped to the next page. “It’s Reed Arts’ intellectual property—including the complete visual system you designed for Fine Gems Jewelry, as well as three pending patents.” My chest tightened. Those designs were the result of countless all-nighters my team and I pulled, every detail infused with my heart and soul. Liam actually used them to guarantee a loan for Serena? “Is that legal?” My voice was strained. “Strictly speaking, it requires the consent of all shareholders,” Julian’s gaze was sharp. “But Liam Blackwood used his position as legal representative to cut corners. The good news is, this kind of transaction can be challenged and revoked in court.” I took a deep breath. A wave of morning sickness suddenly swept over me, and I quickly drank some lemon water to suppress it. Julian subtly noticed my discomfort and discreetly pushed the tissue box closer. “Ms. Reed, if you want to fight for control of the company, there are three things you need to do now.” His voice was steady, like he was presenting an argument in court. “First, gather a complete chain of evidence; second, win the support of other shareholders; and third, and most importantly—” “Learn the rules of the game.” I finished his sentence. Julian raised an eyebrow slightly, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. “Precisely. Starting tomorrow, at seven every evening, I can give you a two-hour crash course in corporate law at my office.” “Will you charge?” I asked, half-jokingly. “It’s covered by Chloe Jensen’s favor.” He chuckled, a few fine lines appearing at the corners of his eyes. “However, I suggest you take care of your health first. Excessive fatigue during the first three months of pregnancy can increase the risk of miscarriage.” My fingers trembled, the coffee spoon clinking against the cup. He knew, and he had stated it so directly. “Don’t worry, I’m a professional.” Julian seemed to read my nervousness. “A client’s privacy is safer with me than in a bank vault.” Over the next two weeks, I maintained the facade of Creative Director during the day, and attended Julian’s crash course at his firm in the evenings. He was indeed an excellent teacher. He made dry legal statutes come alive, even tailoring a special module on common legal pitfalls in the advertising industry for me. “Equity dilution, intellectual property transfer, non-compete clauses…” Julian drew a flowchart on the whiteboard. “These are all areas where founders can easily get burned.” I was diligently taking notes when a sudden wave of dizziness hit me. Morning sickness combined with days of exhaustion—my body was starting to protest. Julian immediately stopped explaining and pulled a packet of soda crackers from his drawer. “Have something to eat first.” He offered the crackers and poured a glass of warm water. “My sister said these help with morning sickness.” I took the crackers, my fingertips accidentally brushing against his hand. Julian quickly withdrew his hand and turned to organize some files, but I still saw a faint blush on his ear. “Thank you,” I said, nibbling on a cracker. “By the way, tomorrow I’m going to Liam and Serena’s wedding.” Julian’s back visibly stiffened. “Are you sure you want to go?” “I have to.” I wiped cracker crumbs from the corner of my mouth. “I need to see for myself how far Liam will go for Serena.” On the wedding day, I chose a dark green velvet dress. Its loose cut perfectly concealed my slightly bulging abdomen, and the color was dignified enough not to seem disrespectful. Chloe insisted on coming with me, but I refused. “I can handle it alone.” I applied lipstick, looking at myself in the mirror. “Besides, Julian will be outside, standing by.” Chloe narrowed her eyes. “Julian Thorne? Why?” “He’s a potential legal consultant for Serena Media, so it’s perfectly normal for him to be invited.” I put down the lipstick. “We agreed that if anything unexpected happens at the wedding, I’ll send him a signal.” The wedding was held at a rose estate in the suburbs. At the entrance, a giant wedding photo of Liam and Serena smiled brightly. Next to the photo, it read “Blackwood & Hayes Union, Happiness Forever,” the date specifically chosen for three days after my divorce from Liam. “Ms. Reed is here!” Serena spotted me from afar and hurried over, dragging her wedding dress. Her abdomen was clearly prominent, at least two months larger than mine. Pregnancy had made her radiant, her cheeks so full they looked like they could be pinched. “Congratulations.” I handed her the gift box. Inside were a pair of crystal glasses—redeemed with company employee benefit points. Liam walked over, impeccably suited, his tie perfectly straight. His eyes flickered when he saw me, his gaze unconsciously falling to my waistline. I had lost a lot of weight recently; the dress was a bit loose around the waist. “Evie, you… you’ve lost weight.” His voice was strained. “Busy with work,” I smiled. “Oh, by the way, Robert Miller mentioned that next week’s shareholders’ meeting will discuss the company’s name change?” Liam’s face changed. “Robert told you?” “Reed Arts to be renamed Serena Media?” I feigned surprise. “As a 40% shareholder, I haven’t received any formal notification?” Serena linked her arm through Liam’s. “Liam, don’t talk business here. She turned to me, her smile sweet but edged with a jab. Ms. Reed, today is just about love, okay?” I nodded and was led to my seat by an usher. Most of the guests were advertising industry acquaintances and relatives of the Blackwood and Hayes families. Many cast sympathetic or curious glances my way. I sat up straight, a polite smile on my face, as if I were simply attending a regular colleague’s wedding. The ceremony began. Serena walked slowly down the aisle, arm-in-arm with her father. Her wedding dress was backless, accentuating her porcelain skin. Liam stood beneath the floral arch, his gaze burning as he watched his new bride. When the officiant asked if he would take her to be his wife, his “I do” was incredibly firm. Three years ago, at our wedding, he had looked at me the same way, said the same vows. Back then, I thought it would last a lifetime. During the ring exchange, Serena suddenly burst into tears, choking out, “Liam, thank you for giving me and our baby a home.” She touched her belly. “Baby says he’s so happy to have a dad like you.” A collective gasp of emotion rippled through the guests. My nails dug deeply into my palms, but I maintained a composed smile. The baby in my womb suddenly stirred gently, as if sensing my emotions. This was the first time I felt fetal movement—a signal of a tiny life awakening within me. “Now, the groom may kiss the bride.” Liam leaned down and kissed Serena, full of deep affection. Amidst thunderous applause, I quietly excused myself and headed for the restroom.
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