CHAPTER 2: “THE FILES THAT WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO EXIST”
Within twenty minutes, the mansion was no longer a home.
It had become an investigation scene.
Doors locked.
Staff questioned.
Security repositioned.
And the ivory-suited woman—once in control of every room she entered—now stood in the center of one she could no longer command.
The man had not spoken to her since.
He was in the study now.
With the maid seated carefully on a sofa nearby.
Still shaking.
Still holding the ultrasound image like a lifeline.
A doctor had been called.
Quietly.
Privately.
And now paperwork was spread across the table.
Medical records.
Financial transfers.
Internal hospital logs.
The man scanned each page with growing stillness.
Then stopped.
His expression changed.
Subtle.
But irreversible.
He turned one document toward the maid.
“Is this your signature?” he asked gently.
She leaned forward.
Her hands trembled as she looked.
“Yes…” she whispered. “They made me sign when I was admitted after I fainted. I didn’t understand what it was.”
The man’s jaw tightened.
He looked at the document again.
Then at another.
Then another.
Finally—
he exhaled slowly.
“She falsified it,” he said.
The maid blinked.
“What?”
He turned toward the ivory-suited woman.
“You didn’t just lie,” he said.
“You fabricated medical termination records.”
Her face paled instantly.
“That’s not— I was trying to protect you—”
“From what?” he interrupted sharply.
Silence.
Then he stepped forward.
“From your own child?”
The words landed like glass breaking.
The maid gasped softly.
Her hand instinctively went to her stomach.
The ivory-suited woman shook her head rapidly.
“You were overwhelmed,” she said desperately. “You weren’t thinking clearly. You were grieving your father’s expectations, your company—everything was collapsing—this woman showed up and—”
“She showed up pregnant,” he said.
A pause.
“And you decided to erase her.”
The room went still.
Even the staff outside the door stopped moving.
The ivory-suited woman’s voice broke slightly now.
“You don’t understand what she was going to do—”
But he cut her off again.
“I understand perfectly.”
He stepped closer.
And for the first time—
she stepped back.
“You didn’t protect me,” he said.
“You protected control.”
Silence.
Then—
he turned away from her completely.
And walked back to the maid.
He knelt in front of her.
Right there on the marble floor.
The same floor she had been forced to kneel on earlier.
And said softly:
“I’m sorry.”
The maid froze.
Not from fear.
From disbelief.
He continued:
“I didn’t know.”
A pause.
“But I should have.”
Her lips trembled.
“I thought you left us,” she whispered.
His voice broke slightly.
“I thought you lost the baby.”
A silence stretched between them.
Heavy.
Fragile.
Then the man reached out—slowly—and placed his hand near hers.
Not touching yet.
Waiting.
“Is it still okay…” he asked quietly, “if I stay now?”
The maid started crying again.
May you like
But this time—
not from pain.
