“How dare you?! How dare you say something like that in front of my son?!”
I was shaking with rage.
“Cormac! Save me!” she shrieked.
Cormac, stunned for a moment, snapped back to his senses and rushed between us.
He seized my wrist and barked, “Enough!”
Then, with a cold glare, he added, “Hillerin isn’t wrong, Stacia. If you hadn’t been messing around with other men while you were pregnant, how could Daryl be so fragile? This is your fault.”
Even knowing how heartless this man could be, his words still pierced me like a blade.
Back when I was seven months pregnant with Daryl, the company Cormac and I built together was facing its biggest crisis—our cash flow had completely collapsed overnight.
If we didn’t find a solution, bankruptcy was inevitable.
Cormac had been ready to give up. But it was I, heavily pregnant, who went door to door begging for investors.
I succeeded. I saved the company.
But because of the overwork and stress, my baby was born prematurely.
Daryl was fragile because of what I sacrificed for the damn company.
And now, they dared twist my effort into something so filthy, so disgusting?!
Cormac had never cared about my suffering—not even a little!