Thirty Years Of Marriage I Thought Was A Mistake Chapter 04

Thirty Years Of Marriage I Thought Was A Mistake Chapter 04

I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, tears began spilling down my cheeks.

I had wanted a child so badly in my previous life.

Every Christmas, I would see other families gathered together, their homes full of noise and laughter. I always thought that having a child—even a loud, mischievous one—would have made our house feel less empty.

But Adrian never brought up children, so I assumed he didn’t want any. I buried that wish deep inside me and kept it there for thirty years.

“I’ll keep the baby.” I sniffled. “I want this child.”

Adrian’s grip on my hand tightened sharply.

His Adam’s apple moved as though he wanted to say something, but in the end, he managed only one word.

“Okay.”

The comments went wild.

[??? This isn’t how this is supposed to go. Why is Mr. Prescott even more excited than the female supporting character?]

[Girls, I have a wild theory. What if Mr. Prescott has been in love with the female supporting character all along?]

[Impossible! The original novel explicitly said the male lead had a first love he could never forget, someone he had pursued for years. How could it possibly be that clueless receptionist?]

[But look at the way Mr. Prescott is looking at her. That’s the way a man looks at the love of his life.]

[I went back and reread the opening. The comments said the male lead only ever had eyes for the first love he could never forget, but who posted them? Those commenters could have been wrong.]

I stared at the harsh fluorescent lights above me, my mind spinning.

The comments might have been wrong.

In my previous life, I had believed them. I thought I was the selfish woman who had stolen a life meant for someone else. I believed Adrian had married me only out of obligation and that Vanessa was the woman he had always loved.

But Vincent had said Adrian had never been interested in Vanessa.

Then who did he love?

“What are you thinking about?”

Adrian reached out and tucked the blanket more securely around me. The movement looked so natural, as though he had done it ten thousand times before.

I turned my head toward him.

He was sitting in the chair beside my bed. His suit jacket was nowhere to be seen, his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, and his tie hung loose around his neck. He looked exhausted and disheveled.

Yet his eyes were bright. When he looked at me, it seemed as though light were shining from somewhere deep inside them.

“Adrian Prescott.”

I rarely addressed him by his full name.

“Yes?”

“Are you in love with someone?”

He paused, and his fingers unconsciously tapped against his knee.

I knew that little habit far too well. It meant he was thinking.

“Yes.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“Who is she?”

He looked at me without answering.

Rapid footsteps sounded in the hallway, and the hospital room door suddenly flew open.

Vanessa stood in the doorway, her face livid. She clutched a thick stack of documents so tightly that her nails dug into the paper.

Two men who looked like bodyguards stood behind her, blocking the doorway with an unmistakably threatening air.

“Adrian, have you lost your mind?” she demanded.

Her voice was shrill and cutting, with none of the polished elegance she had displayed at the diner.

“You did all this to Prescott Holdings for this idiot?”

Adrian slowly rose to his feet, and every trace of warmth vanished from his expression.

He placed my hand beneath the blanket and carefully covered it before turning to face Vanessa.

“Ms. Whitmore, this is a private matter.”

“A private matter?”

Vanessa let out a derisive laugh and slammed the documents onto the cabinet beside my bed.

“Prescott Holdings shares have fallen forty percent in three days, and you’re calling this a private matter?”

I glanced at the pile.

The document on top was a short-interest report. I couldn’t understand most of the dense columns of numbers, but I recognized one line clearly enough.

**Short interest: 67%.**

After spending thirty years with Adrian in my previous life, I had picked up at least a basic understanding of finance.

Short interest that high meant someone was aggressively betting against Prescott Holdings.

The people behind it were most likely Vanessa and the outside investors backing her.

Adrian glanced at the documents without any visible reaction.

“How thoughtful of you, Ms. Whitmore.”

“What do you even see in her?” Vanessa’s voice trembled, and her eyes reddened. “What does she have that I don’t? I have the family background, the education, and the ability. How could you possibly choose a receptionist over me? You’d rather let your company collapse than stop protecting her?”

She pointed at me. Her manicured nails, painted an expensive-looking dusty rose, gleamed beneath the hospital lights.

Adrian didn’t answer.

He merely shifted to the side, quietly blocking her view of me.

“Vincent.”

At some point, Vincent had appeared in the doorway, holding a file.

“Everything is ready, Mr. Prescott.”

Adrian took the file and handed it to Vanessa.

“Ms. Whitmore, this contains evidence that Whitmore Holdings falsified its financial statements over the past five years. I’ve already submitted it to the SEC. By tomorrow’s opening bell, the SEC will have opened an investigation into Whitmore Holdings’ books.”

Every trace of color drained from Vanessa’s face.

“When… when did you start looking into us?”