Chapter 3 I Had a Baby

"Do you know what Bernard Jacobson despises the most?" The man's eyes were bloodshot, his voice ragged with breath. "Cough, cough, cough..." Vivian Donovan could only cough—her throat burned from the chokehold, her voice gone. "If you're begging for death, I'll grant it." Bernard grabbed her arm, dragging her like a rag doll into the bedroom and throwing her onto the bed. "Hey, you—what do you think you're doing?" Vivian froze in fear. Facing Bernard, she was truly terrified. One hand tore off his tie; the other clicked the remote. The curtains snapped shut, plunging the room into darkness. In the blackness, a sharp *rip*—Bernard had shredded her clothes. "You bastard! Let me go! I only came to—get money!" She fought back, but suddenly sensed something was wrong. Only then did it hit her. When she tried to flee, it was too late. ... The next day. Vivian woke naturally at noon. Lying in bed, she shifted—her body ached as if beaten. Her skin felt sticky, unbearable. She sat up, scanned the room—Bernard was gone. On the nightstand lay a set of clean clothes. She rushed to the bathroom, washed quickly—makeup still on—and stormed out, ready to demand answers. But in the living room sat a stranger on the sofa. "I'm Scott Cross, Mr. Jacobson's assistant." Before she could speak, Scott introduced himself. "Where's that dog? Sleeps with me and disappears—does he think he can just walk away?" Vivian fumed. Dog? Scott was stunned. Foolish courage. He didn't engage. Just pointed at a pillbox on the table. "The boss said: take the pill and leave Westmoor, or die. Ms. Donovan—your choice." He knew her name—clearly, he'd done his homework. Vivian's heart dropped. Bernard's cold cruelty hit her—she trembled. Her fury evaporated. She bit her lip. "I—I need to see Bernard. I saved his life. How can he betray me like this?" Scott sneered. "That cheap excuse? I've heard it a hundred times. Do you think the boss will buy it?" "It's true! That day—" "Ms. Donovan!" Scott's patience snapped. "Refuse the offer, and don't cry when the consequences come." *Ding—* The elevator opened. Vivian expected Bernard—but out stepped an elderly woman, silver-haired, regal, flanked by two attendants. Scott bowed. "Madam Jacobson." Madam Jacobson glared at him. "What are you doing?" "Just handling a private matter for the boss, Madam." She pointed at the contraceptive pills. "Is this your idea of a private matter? Eliminating my Jacobson family's great-grandchild?" Vivian gaped. Great-grandchild? She followed the old woman's gaze to the pills—could the "great-grandchild" be... the baby inside her? "The boss's orders." "Hmph. If there's an issue, let that good-for-nothing come to me himself." Madam Jacobson turned to Vivian. Her stern face melted into a warm smile. "You're Vivian Donovan?" Vivian disliked Bernard. She felt nothing for the old woman either. But politely, she asked, "Grandma, what do you need?" "Not much to look at, dear, but you've got a sweet mouth." That single "grandma" made Madam Jacobson beam. Vivian's skin was naturally fair, so she'd darkened it, drawn thick brows, and dotted her face with freckles—plain at first glance. Madam Jacobson took her hand gently. "Dear, I'm old. All I want is a great-grandchild. I've looked into you—your parents are hospitalized, you work multiple jobs. A good girl. If you'll bear a child for the Jacobsons, name your price. I'll agree to anything." Vivian's eyes widened. She yanked her hand back like it was burned. "No, no, no, Grandma. I get it—you want a great-grandchild for the Jacobsons. But that's your family's affair. Nothing to do with me." Are you out of your mind? Just because I slept with Bernard, I should give birth for them? What do they think I am? This is utterly absurd!