Her blood drained away bit by bit, her body grew colder, and the world before her eyes began to blur.

She didn't know how much blood had been drawn; finally, she could no longer hold on and passed out.

When she woke up, it was already dark.

She had assumed she would wake up in the hospital room all alone.

To her surprise, Julian was actually there.

Thinking of the words the doctor had said before she lost consciousness, she couldn't help but grip the bedsheets tightly.

Did he know?

About the truth of the eye donation?

She looked up at Julian.

The way he looked at her was indescribably complex, almost making her heart jump out of her chest.

If he really knew the truth, what should she do? Should she lay everything out and tell him... about the hardships she faced back then?

"Clara Vance, you’re pregnant."

His cold voice echoed in the quiet hospital room.

Clara was stunned.

She subconsciously touched her lower abdomen: "How is that possible! I take contraceptives every time..."

She was a person with no future! How could she have a child at a time like this?

Her shock and astonishment deeply enraged Julian.

"Isn't it a good thing to be pregnant?" A cold sneer curled his lips: "Give birth to it; you can use this child to ask me for endless money."

He leaned down, pinched her chin, his eyes fierce:

"Clara Vance, isn't money what you want? Name your price. How much money will it take for you to be willing to give birth to this child?"

Clara looked up at him, her gaze sliding over his furrowed brows and disgusted eyes.

"Julian Sterling, do you want this child?" she asked softly.

Julian snorted coldly: "It's my child, why wouldn't I want it? Do you think I'm heartless like you?"

Clara’s lips trembled slightly, her heart feeling like it was being squeezed by a giant hand, aching and sour.

The next second, a bucket of cold water was poured over her, making her tremble from the chill.

"After the birth, Selene will raise it."

He sneered: "A cold-blooded and ungrateful woman like you is not fit to raise my child."

Chapter 5

That night, Clara had a nightmare.

In the dream, she seemed to have become her mother.

A knife stabbed into her body, blow after blow; her legs were severed by a sharp blade, and the pain seemed to grow from her bones, soul-chilling and bone-eroding.

She jolted awake from the dream, her forehead covered in cold sweat.

She trembled, hugging her knees, tears streaming down her face, but she didn't make a sound.

Covering her lower abdomen, she apologized over and over in her heart: Baby, I'm sorry... I'm sorry, Mommy can't give you a healthy life, it's all Mommy's fault...

She silently changed out of her hospital gown and put on her own clothes.

As she left, she heard a familiar voice from next door.

"Julian, I didn't expect the porridge you made to be so delicious."

Selene’s voice came from the room.

She froze and quickly hid behind the door, afraid of being discovered.

Through the crack in the door, she saw Julian holding a bowl of red date porridge, blowing on it gently before handing it to Selene’s lips.

Selene threw herself into his arms with a radiant smile, acting coquettishly: "Julian, you’re so good to me. It’s so late, yet you still personally cooked porridge for me to drink."

"If you like it, I'll cook it for you every day from now on." His voice was so gentle; compared to the coldness he had shown her in the hospital room earlier, it was like the difference between heaven and earth.

Her vision began to blur, and memories came flooding back like a tide.

In the small, cramped rental room under the dim light, he walked toward her with steaming red date porridge.

He put her cold feet on his warm abdomen to heat them up and then smiled while watching her drink the porridge:

"I don't have much money now, so I can only give you this. When I have money in the future, I will definitely give you something better..."

She was amused by him, her feet resting on his toned abs, slowly warming up.

Her toes scratched at him, causing his eyes to turn deep and dark as he lunged at her.

The old wooden bed creaked as it swayed; in front of her were the flickering lights, and the man’s ambiguous panting sounded particularly seductive in her ears.

She clung to the man’s neck, arched her own, and kissed him.

At that moment, she truly believed they could be together forever.

As time passed, she still seemed to clearly remember the sweet scent of red dates boiling into porridge that night.

Like a dream that was out of reach.

Waking up from the dream, the man who once made vows of eternal love with her was now holding another woman in his arms as if she were a treasure.

And she, burdened with a bloody feud, no longer had any future to speak of.

In the dead of night, Clara left the hospital and went to a small underground clinic nearby.

She found the doctor, her tone exceptionally calm:

"I’ve decided to abort this child."

"The sooner, the better."

The doctor arranged the surgery quickly.

For the first time, Clara learned that an abortion was such a simple procedure.

Much simpler than the eye donation surgery she had undergone years ago.

Closing her eyes, she lay on the operating table.

When she woke up again, she had lost something extremely important to her body.

Clara braced herself and returned home.

When she was about to enter her room to rest, the butler stopped her: "Miss Vance, Sir has ordered that all your belongings be moved to the guest room. From now on, you will rest in the guest room."

Clara stood at the doorway, and through the gap in the door, she saw that the photo that had originally belonged to her on the bedside table was nowhere to be found.

In its place was a photo of Julian and Selene.

She was snuggled in his arms, smiling so brightly and so happily, as if they were a match made in heaven.

Clara’s heart trembled like leaves scattered by the autumn wind; she turned and pushed open the door to the guest room.

Outside the door, the butler’s voice came: "Sir says that since you are pregnant, a family doctor will come by after dawn to give you a check-up..."

"No need," Clara interrupted him.

"The child is gone."

After saying that, she entered the room and lay down on the bed, exhausted. The dull pain in her lower body made her sleep very restlessly.

She didn't know how much time had passed when heavy footsteps suddenly echoed in her ears.

The corridor was covered in thick carpet; such heavy, chaotic footsteps meant that the person coming was almost sprinting.

In the next second, with a bang, the door to the guest room was violently pushed open.

"Clara Vance, you have some nerve!"

Chapter 6

Julian Sterling stormed in.

His messy hair, damp with sweat, fell across his forehead. His chest heaved violently, and his eyes were as cold as ice as he grabbed her by the throat:

"How could you! How could you do this! This was my child; how could you get rid of it without even asking me!"

Clara Vance gasped for air, unable to breathe.

She struck Julian’s arm forcefully, her face flushed red from lack of oxygen.

Her vision became increasingly blurred, and she looked at him through tear-filled eyes, staring into his gaze.

In the bright sunlight, when he was very close, the colors of his two eyeballs were different.

The left eyeball that once belonged to her was the color of amber, light and moving.

She stared at that eyeball, thinking: It’s truly wonderful. Even if I die one day, my eye will still exist in your body, and I will still be able to see you through the mirror forever...

Darkness clouded her vision, and physiological tears rolled down her cheeks onto his hands that were gripping her neck.

Julian let go suddenly, as if he had been burned.

Clara fell onto the bed, gasping for air, followed by a violent coughing fit that felt as if she were trying to cough up her heart, liver, spleen, and lungs.

Julian clenched his fists, the veins protruding hideously on his forearm muscles.

His eyes were bloodshot, and he interrogated her word by word: "Why did you do this? Isn't it money you want! I can give it to you! I can afford it now; I can give you as much as you want!"

His grip on her wrists was so tight it felt as if he were about to crush them.

Clara felt as numb as if she were dead. She twitched the corner of her lips in a nonchalant manner: