Victor Sullivan snorted coldly. "That girl has become utterly lawless under your indulgence. How else would she dare demand a billion dollars so brazenly?"

The more he thought about it, the angrier he grew.

A billion dollars—just handed over so easily?

That astronomical sum should have been negotiated down properly.

Ethan Sullivan remained impassive. "Grandfather, Grandmother, Mother, Natalie—even Isabella's grandfather Theodore has praised Sophia endlessly. You're the only exception, Director Sullivan. Shouldn't you reflect on yourself?"

Victor had always been autocratic.

Such words fell on deaf ears.

The call ended with a violent click.

The billion-dollar loss already pained him deeply.

Now his own son dared lecture him.

His soaked hair and clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin. Victor clawed at his hair in frustration when a foul odor assaulted his senses.

He sniffed his fingers.

Sour. Rancid.

Grace's water had been tampered with.

Victor exploded in rage!

That woman had dared douse him with foot-washing water!

Utterly lawless!

He immediately dialed his assistant. "Contact Director Zheng at the Civil Affairs Bureau. Ethan and Sophia's divorce paperwork must be processed the moment they file tomorrow."

"Yes, Director Sullivan."

Night fell, city lights twinkling to life.

Ethan entered the hospital room carrying an insulated container.

"I brought postpartum soup." He lifted the lid. "Codonopsis, astragalus, angelica—all blood-nourishing herbs."

Sophia managed a faint smile.

"We're divorcing tomorrow. There's no need for this."

Ethan spooned broth and brought it to her lips. "The child was mine. Your injuries are because of me. This is nothing."

The soup was fragrant.

After a few sips, Sophia reached for the bowl.

"Last time." Ethan avoided her hand. "Let me finish feeding you."

Her eyes grew moist. "The divorce papers?"

"Here."

She scanned the document quickly, brows furrowing tighter.

"All your assets transferred to me?"

"Everything except company shares."

Sophia laughed bitterly. "I'm serious."

Ethan met her gaze, his eyes deep as the ocean.

"So am I."

"No. You had a prenuptial agreement."

"You've sacrificed so much for me. This is what you deserve."

Sophia grew anxious. "Your father already gave me a billion. Taking your fortune too would get me killed."

"He wouldn't dare." Ethan offered another spoonful. "Open up."

She turned her face away. "Then I won't divorce you."

The corner of Ethan's mouth lifted. "Perfect."

Only then did Sophia realize his ploy.

She inhaled deeply. "Let's part amicably."

"I just want to make it right."

The weight of his compensation overwhelmed her.

Victor's murderous glare when handing over the money still haunted her.

If she took Ethan's entire fortune, she likely wouldn't survive tomorrow.

She gently caressed his cheek. "Be reasonable. A billion is more than enough."

Ethan clasped her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

That night, Ethan kept vigil in her room.

Initially, they slept apart.

When Sophia had a nightmare at midnight, he immediately gathered her into his arms.

Once, she'd called for "Kyle" in her dreams.

Later, when she occasionally murmured his name, it would delight him for days.

During her pregnancy, her dreams turned joyful—his happiest time.

Now only "the baby" remained in her restless murmurs.

Watching her curl in agony, Ethan felt as if a knife twisted in his heart.

With practiced ease, he rubbed her back until she settled.

He himself lay awake till dawn.

Greedily, he memorized every detail of the woman in his arms, imprinting her upon his soul.

At daybreak, Ethan personally fetched breakfast.

Pan-fried buns, eight-treasure porridge, tiramisu—all her favorites.

During discharge formalities, he insisted on pushing her wheelchair.

"I can walk," Sophia protested weakly.

The seatbelt had protected her during the crash—only the miscarriage had caused real harm.

"Either the wheelchair or I carry you." Ethan was adamant. "Postpartum recovery requires proper care."

Sophia reluctantly relented.

In midsummer, he bundled her like a dumpling—wool hat, scarf, the full ensemble.

"My mother did this after Natalie's birth," he explained.

Sophia chuckled. "Your memory is impressive."

"Depends on the person." Ethan wheeled her out.

Grace followed behind, eyes reddening at their retreating figures.

Remembering the lost child, she angrily wiped away fresh tears.