Chapter 4
Gwen searched my face for devastation, sadness, or despair. However, she found none.
I simply looked at her icily, making it seem like she was a clown putting on a pathetic show.
In the next second, Yale angrily kicked the door open. A medical report slipped from the stack of papers in his hand.
"This is a consent form for a pregnancy termination procedure. Why did you do this? Why?" he roared.
His voice was filled with rage, and his face contorted with anger. At this moment, his stressed expression didn't match his brother-in-law persona.
I saw a flicker of grief in Yale's eyes as he held the papers. I knew it wasn't for me but for the child he had lost.
I stared coldly at him but said nothing.
"Why would you abort the child? It's the only descendant my brother left in this world! What's more, you went and did this without telling anyone? You just got rid of the child like it's trash?" he shouted.
Still, I didn't respond. To him, my silence was an act of defiance.
"This is how you choose to forget my brother? By discarding everything related to him? You think that by doing this, you'll stop thinking about him? Stop loving him?' Yale questioned.
Then, he angrily slapped me.
I nearly fell over. My face stung, but I wasn't the least bit hurt emotionally. However, before I could even regain my balance, Helen rushed over and slapped me too.
"You evil woman! Why would you harm an unborn child? He was the Salvatore family's future heir!" she yelled.
Recovering, I glared frostily at Yale.
"Why are you so upset and so worked up? I terminated your brother's child, not yours! You're Quinn, not Yale!" I shot back.
I turned away and moved to leave, no longer wanting to face these people.
From behind me, Gwen sneered. "I got it. Sasha must not have wanted the baby at all. She just used the pregnancy to make herself look more pitiful. After all, a widow carrying a child always earns more sympathy, right?"
Right before stepping into the bedroom, I turned back to look at Yale.
"Is the reason you're this upset because you're not actually Quinn, and you're just pretending to be him?" I questioned.
At that moment, everyone went silent. They were all taken aback.
"Forget it. It doesn't matter anymore. I no longer love, nor care for him anyway," I added.
It was an hour later that I finished packing and was ready to leave. At the door of the room, I ran into Gwen.
She was covered in blood, and her hair was disheveled. Her arms and chest were all scratched up. She looked like she had been attacked.
"Why did you hurt me, Sasha…" Gwen whimpered.
Yale ran over. "What happened?"
"She hit me just now. I know she hates me because you and Yale look alike. She wants to keep you for herself. I was only trying to comfort her so she wouldn't be too sad. I didn't expect her to snap and attack me," Gwen bemoaned.
"I've only got a month left to live, Quinn. If she wants you that badly, then fine. I'll let her have you! I'll end my life now, and this will be done with," she added.
Then, she broke down crying.
The entire time, I hadn't said a thing. What was there to say? Would anything I say make a difference?
Should I hope my "brother-in-law" would believe I didn't lay a hand on her? No, he wouldn't.
Yale's gaze was furious as he looked at me.
"Why would you hurt her? She saw you crying and just wanted to comfort you. She's been so kind to you, and you hit her. How could you be so cruel, Sasha?" he chided.
Chuckling coldly, I couldn't stop myself from slapping Yale. That slap was for every lie he had told. It was also because he had chosen to believe Gwen while completely forgetting the love we once shared.
I stepped forward and leaned close to his ear.
I whispered, "You used to be my everything. But now, congratulations. You're hers."
With that, I turned and left.
Yale looked utterly stunned as he watched me walk away resolutely. Feeling as though something important was slipping away from him, he panicked. He grabbed my arm, intending to explain himself. He wanted to say what he hadn't been able to at the auction.
However, Gwen let out a pained groan. "Quinn, I don't feel good. I can't breathe. Quick—"
The sound of her collapsing on the floor followed, and Yale chose to go to her.
I left that house. Waiting for me in the darkness of the night was a black sedan. Mom had sent it to get me. I stepped into the car.
"We're about to begin our plan, Ms. Sasha. We've prepared your passport, a set of your clothes, and a sample of your DNA. The operation will be carried out on Route 108," the driver reported.
I nodded to show I was ready. Then, I anonymously sent several video clips to Yale's email. I was sure that once he saw them, he would be driven mad with regret for believing Gwen was terminally ill and close to death.
Half an hour later, on the northern highway, a fiery car crash lit up the night sky. A half-burned passport lay near the wreckage with my face partially visible. My shattered wristwatch lay resolutely by the roadside.
Meanwhile, in the hospital.
Yale's assistant, Kent Miller, rushed to his side.
"There was a fiery accident on the highway. The car Ms. Sasha was in was destroyed in the fire. She's… She's gone…" Kent reported.
Upon hearing this news, Yale was consumed by a crushing grief. His breathing grew rapid. Then, his vision went black, and he fainted.
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