Sylvia had just stumbled out of the restroom, feeling like she'd thrown up everything but her soul. Even after swishing around some minty mouthwash three times, her mouth still tasted bitter.
As she made her way out, a figure blocked her path.
Feeling drained, she muttered, “Excuse me.”
Rupert looked at her with concern, “Feeling any worse?”
The irony of his concern made Sylvia almost laugh.
“Are you being nice because I’m pregnant? Did you forget you once said if that happened, I should get rid of it?”
Rupert’s face darkened at her words.
Sylvia thought about Tristan's earlier warning and couldn’t help but remember how he treated Stella in a past life. Stella was a girl, an unwanted child, and he never even acknowledged her as a Garcia.
But when Bridget returned with her son, the internet was flooded with his affection for his grandson, declaring Bridget’s son as Rupert’s only child.
Everyone mocked them, saying all their scheming was for nothing.
Now, it seemed Tristan would get his wish.
Without Sylvia in the way, it was up to Bridget whether she wanted to give birth to the heir.
Seeing Sylvia’s pale face, Rupert reached out, but she slapped his hand away.
“Rupert, if you don’t want my child, rest assured, I don’t want it either.”
She tried to leave, but Rupert aggressively grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the restroom, slamming the door behind them.
“Are you out of your mind? What if someone sees us?” Sylvia tried to leave, but he blocked the door, pinning her hands and pressing her against the sink.
“Not want my child? Whose, then? Warren?”
“Yes! Happy now? I wouldn’t want your child even if... mm!”
“No.”
He pressed his forehead against hers, his gaze filled with danger and dominance.
“You can’t…”
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