Chapter 1429 - 1425: If She’s Pregnant, the Child Must Be Born
Constantine Stewart recalled the time before the divorce, around when autumn was just beginning, Chloe Winston said she wanted to have a child.
Ah yes, a child. The man paused in his smoking, his refined face becoming even more indifferent. He detested children, but when Chloe talked about having a child, she seemed as happy as a lark. Growing up in an orphanage, she would often visit the children there every few months.
She loved children, yet Constantine Stewart had a natural fear of them. He had lived a free life, untamed by societal norms, and when Rosy Yi appeared, he used her as an excuse to end the marriage.
He didn’t want children, didn’t want the rest of his life to be bound by an invisible rope. Only after going round in circles did he realize that he couldn’t have even his ex-wife just because he wanted to.
With no other options, he took advantage of her drunken state to impose on her. Facing this situation, Constantine Stewart realized that many things had gone beyond his control, and he couldn’t even predict Chloe’s reaction when she awoke.
The man’s fingers trembled slightly as he smoked, frowning heavily, taking a deep drag, his expression cold.
Chloe Winston woke up at the break of dawn. The hangover was terrible, her head splitting with pain, and she had had a dream where Constantine had bullied her. She moved slightly, catching a whiff of his unique scent at the tip of her nose, and feeling the searing heat beneath her, her body tensed. She lifted her eyes to see Constantine half-hidden in the night.
"Awake?" The man’s voice was unusually hoarse, and the air was still faintly filled with the smell of tobacco.
Chloe Winston felt cold all over, realizing she was naked under the covers. Last night was not a dream; they had indeed been together.
Her face turned pale, and the silence in the bedroom was broken only by their shallow breathing.
"I’ll take responsibility for you." Constantine Stewart saw that she had awoken but said nothing, his long fingers pressing tightly to the bed’s edge, pressing so hard it hurt, his handsome face somewhat pale.
Responsible? As a mistress or a second wife, only to divorce in three years? Chloe silently curled her lips in a cold smile, enduring the soreness in her body, getting up to find her nightgown, and went into the bathroom without a word, locking the door.
The scorching hot water poured over her, turning her fair skin red. She scrubbed her body’s marks vigorously, numbly hugging her knees, curling up in the bathtub like a small animal, feeling as if the sky was collapsing.
Kyla Zamora rushed to the hotel at dawn. Last night’s scandal got out of control as soon as it emerged, and both Charles Taylor and Chloe Winston’s studios issued statements acknowledging their relationship and hoping for support.
As soon as the studio’s statement was released, public opinion exploded.
Kyla had originally planned to attend a variety show recording today, but then she received a call from Xiao Qiu around three or four in the morning, saying Chloe got drunk, Constantine went into Chloe’s room and never came out, and she was also restrained by Mr. Stewart’s men.
Kyla was so shocked, she dropped her phone, jumped up to get dressed, and rushed over. Since it was summer, the day broke early, and she arrived a little after six.
Her hands and feet were icy as she reached the hotel but dared not alarm anyone for fear of making things worse. As soon as she entered, she was taken to the hotel suite by Constantine’s men.
Inside the suite, the doors and windows were open. The man sat smoking on the sofa, the ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. Seeing her arrival, his deep gaze slid over her face like a cold blade, indifferently saying, "If she’s pregnant, the child must be born."
Looking at the well-dressed man, Kyla felt a chill crawl from her heart to her head, but she cursed in her mind: "You disgusting aristocrats."
Being cursed, Constantine Stewart showed no expression, glanced at her, then stood up and coldly said, "Chloe has been soaking in the bathroom for an hour. If anything happens to her, none of you will survive."
After speaking, the man left.
Kyla was enraged, yet worried about Chloe, and quickly ran to the bathroom door, knocking and softly saying, "Chloe, it’s Sister Kyla, open the door."
Inside, only the sound of the shower running could be heard. Kyla knocked for over ten minutes, afraid she might have to call someone to break the door when there was finally some movement inside.
The door was opened from within, and Kyla hurriedly pushed it open, seeing the drenched girl squatting dazedly on the floor, her face white as paper, her hair wet, and the skin on her exposed neck scalded and peeling, with faint traces of blood.
Kyla was shocked and quickly pulled open Chloe’s nightgown, seeing her back scalded even worse, her body covered in minor burns, tears brimming in her eyes, choking, "You fool, no matter how big the issue is, you can’t self-destruct like this. It’s just sleeping with someone you don’t like, it’s not a big deal these days."
"Sis, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have drunk. I thought I was dreaming." She said hoarsely, burying her face in Kyla’s embrace.
Kyla gently hugged her and softly said, "It’s just a nightmare. Once you’re awake, it’ll be okay."
"I want to go home, I don’t want to film anymore." She said softly, her eyes dry, without tears. She didn’t know why she wasn’t crying, instead, she felt calm. While soaking in the hot water, she thought of nothing, reviewing her 21-year life and feeling exhausted.
She had worked hard to live, only to find out she was still fragile and easily shattered. Her life had always been controlled by someone else’s hand.
When Constantine wanted her, she was Mrs. Stewart; when he didn’t, she was a stranger. When he wanted to have his way with her, he could do so at will.
She was just a plaything in the man’s hands.
"Then we won’t film." Kyla said through gritted teeth, that heartless beast was trying to destroy Chloe’s career as an actress.
Chloe looked up at her, her face somewhat wooden, somewhat dazed, reaching out to clutch Kyla’s clothes, saying, "Sister, I feel unwell."
After that, she struggled to move, leaning over the toilet, retching, as if trying to expel all the blood and flesh Constantine had fed her over the years, to give it back to him.
Kyla took Chloe away stealthily while it was still early, heading straight to the Imperial City.
Zhendu only entered the room after they left, releasing the assistant, then walked up to Constantine and said in a low voice, "The hotel’s surveillance has been dealt with, Miss Winston and Kyla left by car."
"Hmm." The man sat with his back to him, smoking a cigarette in an armchair.
Zhendu glanced up and saw that the half-burnt cigarette had already scorched the man’s long fingers to a bloody pulp, yet the other remained oblivious.
Zhendu’s face changed dramatically, his heart pounding as he said, "Mr. Stewart, your fingers."
Constantine extinguished the cigarette casually, looking down at his burnt fingers, his face darkening, saying nothing, realizing that some things didn’t hurt at the time. It only started hurting now.