Chapter 4

Once Clyde finished talking, he lifted Betty and exited the room.

The door remained slightly open, allowing me to hear him ordering a fleet of snowplows to clear the street. He even asked his companions to drive their luxury vehicles along the cleared path to smooth it out.

In a matter of minutes, Clyde had engineered a safe route for Betty to escape the nearly meter-deep snow.

All the while, I had been stuck in the frigid weather for half a day, pleading for his assistance. But he disregarded me, worried I'd become too attached and complicate his life.

Before departing, Clyde instructed his security to transport me to the medical center.

I was hauled into the vehicle, my hands still covered in blood.

Inside the roomy car, Clyde contacted the family physician to tend to my injuries. Betty was resting in the rear, and as he glanced at me, his expression softened.

For a brief moment, I recalled when he had agreed to wed me—his eyes then were gentle and full of warmth.

After my wounds were treated, Clyde carefully took my hand and spoke quietly.

"Angela, I need you to keep quiet about Betty's condition. If the family elders discover it, she'll be banished from the city again, like before."

My spirits instantly plummeted. His sudden kindness wasn't for me—it was for Betty.

Clyde's gaze turned cold once more as he moved closer, attempting to embrace me.

But the idea of Betty's scent and tears on him made me feel ill. I instinctively pushed him away and moved to the farthest corner of the seat.

He looked at me with a mix of bewilderment and annoyance. After all, in the past, even the slightest touch from him would have made me ecstatic for days.

Holding back his anger, Clyde spoke again, his tone resolute and businesslike.

"After Betty delivers, the child will be raised as a York. I'll be the father, and you'll be the mother. To put Betty at ease, I'll sign over all my assets to her so she'll never have financial worries."

"But there's one stipulation. Before we get custody of her child, we must both have sterilization procedures. It's the only way Betty will believe we'll truly care for the baby. After the wedding, we'll go through with the operation."

He wasn't seeking my opinion—he was informing me of his decision, as if it were already settled.

Clyde seemed certain I would agree. Perhaps he thought my affection for him was so strong that I'd accept anything.

I gazed at him, his words replaying in my mind. He intended to give everything to Betty, use my resources to support her child, and deny me the chance to have children of my own—all while expecting my unquestioning compliance.

It became evident that Clyde's supposed fondness for me had always been a facade for Betty's benefit. Even our marriage was likely arranged to legitimize her child.

But I needed him to confess it. I wanted him to state it plainly. If he did, it would be like handing me the tool I needed to cut all ties with him.

I looked into his eyes, searching for a hint of honesty, and asked, "Clyde, so you married me because of Betty and her baby? In these ten years, did you ever truly care for me? Were you ever touched by my devotion, even slightly?"

Clyde didn't answer right away. He sat quietly, as if deeply considering my question.

Then, from the back seat, Betty—eyes shut, voice barely audible as if sleep-talking—whispered, "Clyde, don't fret. Once I have the baby, I'll vanish from your life forever."

Her words seemed to strike him deeply. Clyde's focus shifted entirely to Betty, his gaze filled with worry and affection.

When he finally turned back to me, his voice was controlled but detached.

"It's been a decade, Angela. It's not as if there were no emotions at all. But what we share feels more like family. Marrying you gives me a sense of stability."

"Being with Betty feels like love," Clyde admitted.

I stared at him silently, not saying a word. If that's how it is, I decided, let them have their wedding.

After Betty was admitted to the emergency room, the doctor confirmed she was alright. I took one final look at Clyde, turned away, and asked the driver to return me to the villa.

I intended to book a hotel, wait for my connecting flight, and leave Brooklyn permanently.

Clyde followed me out, calling after me.

"Lan Xia, I've sent the money for the wedding gown to your account. Go purchase a new one."

"I'll be with Betty for the next few days, but don't worry. I'll be there for the ceremony and won't disappoint you. And remember the vasectomy."

I didn't respond and left without looking back. I waited until the wedding day to make my move.

Clyde inundated me with desperate messages.

I finally replied with a single text:

[I hope you and Betty have a joyful marriage. I will not be marrying you.]