Chapter 13

He was a doctor, and he knew very well that the news said "die," not "dead."

Moreover, it was a medical accident.

This meant that I didn't pass away from excessive bleeding after surgery, as reported in the news.

Instead, I died on the operating table.

Realizing this, he floored the gas pedal.

Today was the fourth day of the New Year.

It was exactly ten days before his birthday.

He had calculated repeatedly that the baby in my belly was likely his.

By the time he rushed to my mansion, it was already five in the morning.

He stood outside, ringing the doorbell for a full hour.

But no one ever answered.

It was as if he suddenly came to his senses. He ran back to the car, grabbed a window breaker, and started frantically smashing the back window.

Earlier, he had only broken the driver's side window to get Lydia's phone.

But my phone was in the back seat.

As he smashed, glass shards rained down.