Isabella’s POV

The first rays of morning sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm feeling on my body.

I opened my tired eyes and looked at my sleeping child. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face.

Due to my stepmother's extensive publicity, news of my one-night stand became widely known.

My father deemed me shameful and threatened to kick me out of the family.

I had no choice but to rent a house outside.

Public opinion and the truth of the matter no longer mattered, because soon enough, I discovered I was pregnant.

Yes, I was pregnant with a stranger's child.

At first, I didn't want to bring into the world a child whose father I didn't even know.

However, when I went to the hospital, all of them refused me.

I was confused, I thought it must have been my cruel stepmother's doing, but as I left the city for another hospital, they also turned me away.

They all said, 'Your body is too weak for an abortion.'

Despite my skepticism about their explanations, as time passed, I realized the little life inside mine had already become a part of my body.

Perhaps this was destiny.

So I embraced the child. I rested peacefully in the apartment until months later when the baby was born.

At nineteen, while other girls her age were still in their parents' arms, I had become a mother.

Even though the child's father was unknown, and I had almost collapsed when I first found out I was pregnant, over the past nine months, the child had become an irreplaceable part of my life.

Perhaps that's what motherhood is.

I came back from my senses as soon as I heard someone knocking, echoing around.

I quickly wiped away the tears on my cheek with the back of my hand.

In a hoarse voice, I said, "Please come in."

I thought it was a nurse coming to change the IV, but as the door opened, a handsome young man I didn't recognize walked in.

"Have you come to the wrong room?" I asked, quite not sure.

His demeanor was cold, and the way he looked at her made I feel like he was looking down on me.

"Andrew Turner, your child's father."

The man introduced himself briefly and directly. His voice, clear and cold, struck me like a thunderclap, leaving me feeling dizzy.

Initially uncertain, I couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance between his eyes and the man from that evening, and they even shared the same scent of perfume.

My already pale face turned even whiter, and I struggled to sit up in bed, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him in a moment of lost control.

"How dare you show up here? Aren't you afraid I'll kill you?!"

In contrast to my hysteria, Andrew casually raised his arm to block the pillow I hurled at him. Then, with long strides, he approached the bed.

Beside the bed lay a sleeping baby swaddled in clothes, its wrinkled, rosy face resembling a little monkey.

I didn't know what he intended, but I instinctively reached out to protect the child in my arms.

"If you calm down, we can talk," he said.

"There are two choices. Marry me, or give me custody of the child,” he said with his tone as if it wasn't a big deal, and he seemed used to giving orders.

If I said his proposal didn't intrigue me, it would be a lie. Naturally, I wasn't inclined to marry a stranger, but I knew I needed someone to help me take care of the child, and obviously, the baby's father couldn't be more suitable.

As for me, I have more important things to do, and that is—revenge.

Emily has came to visit. It was then that I learned Emily was pregnant, carrying James's child, and my fiancé had been betraying me for a long time.

Emily staged a scene where I allegedly pushed her, resulting in her miscarriage.

When James arrived, he berated me without asking for the side of the story. Thus, all I had left for James was hatred, and I felt sorrow for my past naivety.

I silently gazed at Andrew, this was the first time I had carefully examined him.

He was dressed in a dark shirt, broad-shouldered, and tall. Whether it was due to the lighting or not, he sat there looking exceptionally tall and deep.

His shirt cuffs were rolled up, and he wore a slightly worn steel watch on his left wrist.

Like a woman's handbag, a man's watch often symbolizes status. But his watch betrayed him.

I guessed that Andrew's family background probably wasn't that great.

"How old are you?"

"28," he replied.

"What do you do?" I asked again.

"Are you verifying my identity?" he raised an eyebrow, his emotions hard to discern.

"Don't I have the right to know about the current status of my child's father?" I asked back sternly.

"Doing some small business with friends," Andrew answered in a cooperative tone, nodding for me to continue.

Typically, freeloaders would like to claim they were in business. I wasn't pleased with his response.

"Do you have a permanent residence now?" I asked.

"No," Andrew answered.

"I'm really unlucky. I couldn't even support myself before, and now I have to support a child and an unemployed vagabond,"

He raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by my words.

"I have an apartment. After the baby turns one month old, you can move in. I will regularly pay child support, if you don't squander it, it should cover your expenses for you and your son."

I handed him another set of apartment keys and a bank card.

I could see his previously expressionless face turn incredibly grim.

“So, I... was being kept?”