The Tycoon's Deepest Repentance (Sophia and Ryan)

When I woke up from unconsciousness, my hand instinctively went to my abdomen.

The faint movement of the baby inside me, as if reassuring me not to be afraid, finally allowed me to exhale a breath of relief.

At least, my child was still with me.

The doctor's voice was stern as he addressed me "This time, we managed to save the baby, but you must control your emotions. If it happens again, both you and the child will be in grave danger. You're aware of how much you've suffered during this pregnancy." I forced a bitter smile.

Due to a previous miscarriage, the first few months of this pregnancy had been especially rough.

My hair fell out in clumps, and the relentless nausea left me sleepless for entire nights. But Ryan never cared about me.

The doctor frowned. "after such a scare, where is your husband?

Why hasn't he shown up?"

Before I could muster a response, the door swung open.

Ryan walked in, his face a mask of urgency, calling my name as though he were genuinely worried.

The doctor's expression softened slightly, preparing to brief him on my condition.

But before the doctor could get a word out, Ryan turned to me, his tone impatient rather than concerned.

"Sophia, didn't you see my messages? Where's my savings passbook? I need it urgently. Hurry up and tell me."

The thought that he needed the money to pay for Linda's maternity photo shoot made me nauseous.

I lowered my gaze to the pale bedsheet.

The cold, sterile hospital room only amplified my sadness.

"Where were you last night when I tried calling you?" I asked quietly.

"Is pregnancy making you paranoid now?"

Ryan's irritation was barely concealed.

Perhaps noticing the doctor's watchful presence, he softened his tone.

"Sweetheart, I've been swamped with work, barely sleeping day or night. I must've missed your calls."

The doctor, evidently unable to remain silent, interjected, "Your wife narrowly avoided a premature birth. She was on the brink of life and death. You should be more attentive to her."

Ryan scoffed defensively. "She's just weak. She lost the last baby out of nowhere too. And honestly, what can I even do here? I'm not a doctor."

Lost the last baby out of nowhere?

My hand instinctively covered my abdomen as a wave of irony swept over me.

Ryan was the one with health issues and the issues that made conception difficult for us.

If not for my own exceptional fertility, he might never have had children at all.

Even now, my pregnancy required extraordinary care, and my body couldn't endure the physical abuse he had subjected me to.

I felt utterly hollow, too drained to argue.

"If you're busy, just leave. I don't need you here," I said flatly.

Ryan seemed taken aback. In the past, whenever he ignored my calls, I would always make a scene.

My quiet demeanor today caught him off guard.

He crouched by my bedside and took my hand.

"Baby, I'm really sorry. Don't be mad, okay? I'll stay with you tonight, no work interruptions, I promise."

He pulled out his phone, displaying a picture of an adorably fluffy kitten.

"Look, sweetheart. Isn't it cute? You've always loved cats. Once the baby is born, let's adopt this little guy and bring him home, okay?"

I stared at him, incredulous.

"I'm allergic to cat hair. We've been married six years, and you didn't know that?"

The cheerful expression on Ryan's face froze, replaced by an awkward stiffness.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I've just been so busy lately, my mind's all over the place."

I quietly observed him as he spun his lies.

That cat wasn't for me. It was Linda's.

She had posted this very photo on Facebook, accompanied by a caption that read "Pregnant! But my husband worries the cat might harm me or the baby. He says I should send it away... I don't want to! Where should I send it?" He was worried about the cat endangering Linda and her child, so he decided to send it to me, the woman who was allergic to it.

I closed my eyes, feeling the last remnants of my love for him wither away.

Not only did he not care about me, but he also couldn't care less about the child I carried.

"The passbook is in the wardrobe, on the third shelf. Take it," I said coldly.

But that doesn't mean you can take money out of it, I said in my mind.

Ryan's eyes lit up. He leaned down to hug me affectionately before rushing out the door, undoubtedly heading home to get the money.

The moment he was gone, I reached for my phone and dialed a number.noveldrama

A deep, familiar voice answered.

"My dearest sister, you finally decided to call me. I heard you were hospitalized, and Father and Mother are extremely worried. What happened?"

It was my brother, Ethan.

I forced a bitter smile and recounted everything that had transpired the night before.

By the time I finished, his restrained anger was palpable through the phone.

"That bastard! We trusted him to take good care of you, and this is how he repays us?!"

Ethan's voice hardened.

"Good thing Father didn't invest in his business! I remember him frequently visiting after your wedding to discuss investments.

Actually, I'm meeting with him at my company later today-I'll personally confront him about all this!"

A meeting?

So Ryan, who had so urgently demanded money for Linda's maternity shoot, had completely forgotten about his supposed business obligations.

"Ethan," I said, my voice steady, "send a car to pick me up from St. Mary's Hospital."

I recited a bank account number, my tone icy.

"And freeze this account for me."

Ethan didn't hesitate. He quickly agreed to my requests and reassured me, his voice gentle now "Sophia, you're pregnant. That scum isn't worth your tears or pain. Live for yourself and your baby. Please, take good care of yourself." Feeling a flicker of warmth from his concern, I nodded slightly.

"I will take care of myself," I replied.

"And just so you know, he's about to become my ex-husband."