Quinn Louvre and I were lying in the hospital room.
I struggled to turn my head to look at Quinn’s pale face. Under her gaze, I reached for my phone from the bedside table and dialed Chuck Xylander’s number.
Usually, Chuck would use work as an excuse to ignore my calls. This time, perhaps out of guilt for what happened at the abandoned factory yesterday, his tone was unexpectedly soothing.
“Scarlett, are you okay?” he asked. “I’m a bit busy right now. After the fright yesterday, Mel didn’t sleep all night—”
“Chuck, let’s get a divorce,” I calmly said, cutting him off.
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, followed by Chuck’s angry voice, demanding, “Just because I chose to protect Mel when I was defusing the bomb? Scarlett, is this really necessary? Mel is still young. What if she can never have children because of this accident?”
I was puzzled. “What about me? What if I can’t have children?”
As if it were obvious, Chuck replied, “We just won’t have kids, then. I don’t mind.”
I looked down at my abdomen wrapped in white gauze, and a bitter smile appeared on my lips. He didn’t care, huh? But what about the child I just lost?
