Chapter 1

Five years into our relationship, I learned that half my life was worth only a ten-thousand-dollar bet.

In the delivery room, I was enduring the excruciating pain of dilation.

Derek, who was supposed to be accompanying me, was called away by a phone call.

In my haze, I heard his friends laughing in the hallway.

"I told you—as long as Chloe's dog was about to give birth, Derek would absolutely ditch his wife in the delivery room!"

"I won the bet! Ten thousand—transfer it now!"

I deflated instantly. The baby got stuck in the birth canal.

The midwife's face changed; she urgently called Derek.

It rang three times before he picked up.

He was silent for a moment, then spoke in his usual cool voice:

"I'm a top surgeon. I know the obstetrics protocol perfectly well."

"The hospital has top-tier specialists. My presence there provides nothing but emotional support—no medical intervention value."

"But Chloe's golden retriever has a malpositioned fetus. If not handled properly, both mother and pups could die within minutes."

"I know which is more important."

"Childbirth is a normal physiological process. Once her vitals stabilize, I'll come back."

At that life-or-death moment, his logic ranked me below another woman's pet dog giving birth.

I didn't cry, didn't scream, didn't throw a tantrum.

I just struggled to raise my hand and hung up the phone.

No need to give birth anymore.

No need to be Mrs. Foster, either.

Three days after the surgery, the hospital room door finally opened.

Derek walked casually to the foot of the bed and naturally picked up the chart hanging there.

When he saw the line for induced labor, his fingers paused slightly as he turned the page.

A flicker of shock passed through his eyes—fast, but there.

Yet it lasted only a second before vanishing without a trace.

He put down the chart and sat by the bed.

"Lina, feeling better? Does the wound still hurt?"

I stared at his cold, composed face, my whole body trembling uncontrollably.

My voice was hoarse, nearly torn:

"Derek, the baby is gone."

"When I signed the surgery consent form, I hemorrhaged—I nearly died."

Derek frowned slightly, pulled out a tissue, and gently wiped the dampness from the corner of my eye. His tone was steady:

"I know. I just read the chart."

He took my cold hand.

"Lina, don't be too upset."

"From a eugenics perspective, fetal developmental arrest is a natural selection outcome."

"It means the embryo itself wasn't healthy."

"You're still young. Terminating the pregnancy early minimizes the damage to your body."

I jerked my head up, staring at him in disbelief.

Three days ago in the delivery room, the baby was stuck in the canal, malpositioned, and I was hemorrhaging.

Even though I'd signed the induced labor consent myself, I was devastated.

But now, as the father, Derek showed not a flicker of emotion upon learning the child was gone.

"Derek, do you even have a heart?"

I yanked my hand back, tears falling onto the blanket.

"When I was in agony in that delivery room—what were you doing?"

Derek lowered his eyes, looking at his still-warm palm, and actually explained—rare for him:

"Chloe's golden retriever had a difficult birth—malposition, heavy bleeding."

"I don't know veterinary medicine, but I had to be there to help her stay calm."

"Help her stay calm?" I laughed bitterly, pointing at my stomach.

"She stays calm—what about me?"

"Your fiancée is being induced, your child is bleeding, and you went to calm someone else's dog?"

"Last night, when your friends bet ten thousand on my life—did it ever occur to you that I might die too?"

Derek's face darkened. He swept a cold glance at the friends in the room.

Then he looked back at me and sighed:

"Lina, can you be rational?"

His voice rose half an octave.

"Staying here would do nothing but sit with you in silence."

"Losing this child—it's just normal physiological selection."

"Once you recover, we can have another anytime. It's fine."

"But if that dog dies, Chloe won't be able to go on. Don't you understand?"