Chapter 3

• Isabella’s POV
• The first rays of morning sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm feeling on my body.
• I opened my tired eyes and looked at my sleeping child. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face.
• Due to my stepmother's extensive publicity, news of my one-night stand became widely known.
• My father deemed me shameful and threatened to kick me out of the family.
• I had no choice but to rent a house outside.
• Public opinion and the truth of the matter no longer mattered, because soon enough, I discovered I was pregnant.
• Yes, I was pregnant with a stranger's child.
• At first, I didn't want to bring into the world a child whose father I didn't even know.
• However, when I went to the hospital, all of them refused me.
• I was confused, I thought it must have been my cruel stepmother's doing, but as I left the city for another hospital, they also turned me away.
• They all said, 'Your body is too weak for an abortion.'
• Despite my skepticism about their explanations, as time passed, I realized the little life inside mine had already become a part of my body.
• Perhaps this was destiny.
• So I embraced the child. I rested peacefully in the apartment until months later when the baby was born.
• At nineteen, while other girls her age were still in their parents' arms, I had become a mother.
• Even though the child's father was unknown, and I had almost collapsed when I first found out I was pregnant, over the past nine months, the child had become an irreplaceable part of my life.
• Perhaps that's what motherhood is.
• I came back from my senses as soon as I heard someone knocking, echoing around.
• I quickly wiped away the tears on my cheek with the back of my hand.
• In a hoarse voice, I said, "Please come in."
• I thought it was a nurse coming to change the IV, but as the door opened, a handsome young man I didn't recognize walked in.
• "Have you come to the wrong room?" I asked, quite not sure.
• His demeanor was cold, and the way he looked at her made I feel like he was looking down on me.
• "Andrew Turner, your child's father."
• The man introduced himself briefly and directly. His voice, clear and cold, struck me like a thunderclap, leaving me feeling dizzy.
• Initially uncertain, I couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance between his eyes and the man from that evening, and they even shared the same scent of perfume.
• My already pale face turned even whiter, and I struggled to sit up in bed, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him in a moment of lost control.
• "How dare you show up here? Aren't you afraid I'll kill you?!"
• In contrast to my hysteria, Andrew casually raised his arm to block the pillow I hurled at him. Then, with long strides, he approached the bed.
• Beside the bed lay a sleeping baby swaddled in clothes, its wrinkled, rosy face resembling a little monkey.
• I didn't know what he intended, but I instinctively reached out to protect the child in my arms.
• "If you calm down, we can talk," he said.
• "There are two choices. Marry me, or give me custody of the child,” he said with his tone as if it wasn't a big deal, and he seemed used to giving orders.
• If I said his proposal didn't intrigue me, it would be a lie. Naturally, I wasn't inclined to marry a stranger, but I knew I needed someone to help me take care of the child, and obviously, the baby's father couldn't be more suitable.
• As for me, I have more important things to do, and that is—revenge.
• Emily has came to visit. It was then that I learned Emily was pregnant, carrying James's child, and my fiancé had been betraying me for a long time.
• Emily staged a scene where I allegedly pushed her, resulting in her miscarriage.
• When James arrived, he berated me without asking for the side of the story. Thus, all I had left for James was hatred, and I felt sorrow for my past naivety.
• I silently gazed at Andrew, this was the first time I had carefully examined him.
• He was dressed in a dark shirt, broad-shouldered, and tall. Whether it was due to the lighting or not, he sat there looking exceptionally tall and deep.
• His shirt cuffs were rolled up, and he wore a slightly worn steel watch on his left wrist.
• Like a woman's handbag, a man's watch often symbolizes status. But his watch betrayed him.
• I guessed that Andrew's family background probably wasn't that great.
• "How old are you?"
• "28," he replied.
• "What do you do?" I asked again.
• "Are you verifying my identity?" he raised an eyebrow, his emotions hard to discern.
• "Don't I have the right to know about the current status of my child's father?" I asked back sternly.
• "Doing some small business with friends," Andrew answered in a cooperative tone, nodding for me to continue.
• Typically, freeloaders would like to claim they were in business. I wasn't pleased with his response.
• "Do you have a permanent residence now?" I asked.
• "No," Andrew answered.
• "I'm really unlucky. I couldn't even support myself before, and now I have to support a child and an unemployed vagabond,"
• He raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by my words.
• "I have an apartment. After the baby turns one month old, you can move in. I will regularly pay child support, if you don't squander it, it should cover your expenses for you and your son."
• I handed him another set of apartment keys and a bank card.
• I could see his previously expressionless face turn incredibly grim.
• “So, I... was being kept?”