“Seymour, you and Elena have been married for three years now. It’s time to think about having a baby.”
From the half-open study door came the old man’s calm but serious voice.
Not long after, Seymour’s cold voice rang out with no emotion, “Why would I have a kid with a woman I don’t love?”
Elena had just raised her hand to knock but froze mid-step, her face losing all color.
Seymour’s voice came again, this time a little more impatient. “Grandpa, let me make this crystal clear—there’ll be no baby between me and Elena. So please stop pushing it.”
“You brat!” The old man exploded with anger, and the sound of a teacup crashing to the floor rang out, followed by the click of footsteps heading towards the door.
Panicking, Elena bolted to the washroom next door. In her hurry, her side slammed hard against a low shelf in the storage room.
The sharp pain in her waist seemed to pierce straight through to her heart. Her eyes welled up with tears instantly.
Just a few days ago, she got a message on her phone—a pregnancy report. It wasn’t hers, though. It was from Lydia Harlow, Seymour’s so-called “true love.”
Attached beneath was a couple of cruel texts from Lydia—
“Elena, three years married and he still doesn’t love you. What a joke.”
“You’re clinging to a man who’s never cared for you. Honestly, if I were you, I’d have thrown myself off a roof from embarrassment.”
Elena didn’t learn about Seymour’s feelings until after they got married.
On their wedding night, she saw a gossip article placing Seymour and the actress Lydia Harlow at a hotel together.
Back then, silly her still dreamed of some fairy tale relationship and even quit her job to be his full-time wife.
But now, after three years…
The moment she shut the washroom door, it was shoved open with force. Caught off-guard, she stumbled back.
Through her tear-filled eyes, she saw that cold, sharp-faced man walk in—her husband, Seymour Bennett.
He was expressionless, dressed in a black suit that only made him seem more distant. Without a word, he grabbed her chin roughly.
“You going behind my back to get Grandpa to pressure me about having a kid? Elena, really stepping up your game these days, huh?”
Before she could explain, his eyes turned colder. “You schemed your way into being Mrs. Bennett three years ago. Now you wanna use a baby to lock down my whole family?”
Elena’s face turned pale, lips pressed firmly together. “I didn’t!”
“Oh really?” His eyes were full of mockery. “Then why were you eavesdropping behind the door like a guilty criminal?”
“Since you’ve heard it all, let me spell it out for you—Elena, you’re not worthy of having my child.”
The words hit harder than a slap. Elena clenched her fists tightly, her nails digging deep into her palms.
She always knew he didn’t love her. But hearing him actually say “not worthy” still hurt like hell.
Three years, she gave it her all as the perfect wife. Never once letting her guard down.
She really thought, just maybe, she could win some part of his heart. But clearly, his heart was made of ice—so cold she could never thaw it, no matter how hard she tried.
“Seymour... these three years, was there ever a single moment... you liked me?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, shaky with nerves, yet forced out with all she had left.
Something flickered briefly in Seymour’s eyes—but it vanished as fast as it came.
His gaze stayed cold and distant. “What do you think?”
That hint of sarcasm and the complete disregard in his voice shattered whatever was left of her strength.
Elena stood there, heart numb from the pain, not even able to cry anymore.