"What was Eleanor doing there in the first place?"

Valeria clutched Rosalynn's hand tightly, panic flooding her eyes.

"I don't know. But with John dead, am I going to jail?"

“No, you won't. You're innocent. I'm sure that the police will get to the bottom of this," Rosalynn declared.

At the hospital

“Mr. Hughes, by the time Miss Hilton arrived, her baby was already in critical condition. We had to perform surgery immediately," the chief obstetrician said, his face lined with regret.

Brian narrowed his eyes.

"So the baby didn’t survive?"

‘m afraid not," the doctor confirmed, his gaze heavy with sorrow.

Brian fell silent. There was regret, yes, but also an undeniable sense of relief.

The tragedy was untimely, but it lifted the weight of potential complications the child would have caused between him and Rosalynn.

His lack of emotional attachment to the unborn child might cross as callous, even heartless.

But the truth remained that he felt no significant bond with the life that had once fluttered within Eleanor.

With a nod, Brian entered Eleanor's room.

She was already awake, her assistant, Moira, standing by her side.

"Mr. Hughes!" Eleanor exclaimed as she spotted Brian entering the room.

Her voice held a note of happiness, but her weakened state made it difficult for her to sit.

Moira quickly moved to Eleanor's side, sliding a pillow behind her back to provide support.

Eleanor winked at Moira, who understood the unspoken message immediately.

“Mr. Hughes, I'll head out to grab a few things for Eleanor."

The moment the door clicked shut, Eleanor's head dipped low. She traced her flat belly, her fingers gliding across the smooth fabric of her hospital gown.

“Did we Lose our baby?"