Jessica didn't reply. She couldn't. Her fingers trembled slightly by her side, but her spine remained straight, her chin high.
They stood like statues—two people staring across a battlefield, neither willing to blink first.
"President King, aren't you curious why I insist on keeping this child?"
Her voice, clear and sudden, pierced the quiet air of the rooftop café.
Seeing him about to leave, Jessica felt a sharp surge of desperation ripple through her chest. Her hands trembled as she shot to her feet, her voice catching in her throat—but she spoke anyway, every word deliberate and firm.
"The doctor said I might never be able to conceive again… so I have to protect this child!"
Spencer froze in his tracks.
His tall frame stilled like a statue, back still facing her. The sunlight spilled in from the wide windows, casting long shadows across the wooden floor, washing the café in amber light.
He slowly turned.
Despite the space between them, he could clearly see the way her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. Her voice had cracked—but not from weakness. It was the pressure of something deeper—something sacred.
The veins in her neck were tight with tension. Her hand gripped the edge of the table, the other clenched at her side. She was shaking, but not backing down.
And still, Spencer King's expression didn't soften. His deep voice came cold and unyielding, like steel brushing over frost. No warmth. No mercy.
"I deeply regret the situation with Miss Cooper," he said coolly, "but it has nothing to do with me."
Jessica's voice trembled, but not from fear. Her eyes shone with determination.
"The reason I'm here today… is precisely because this child is connected to you," she said. "I don't want anything from you, so you don't need to worry. All I want… is this child!"
Her hand gripped the table tighter, as if her body couldn't hold the weight of the emotion surging through her. Her breath was uneven, her heartbeat loud in her ears.
Sunlight danced over her skin, and her shadow stretched long against the polished floor. Her long hair framed her face softly, glowing in the gold of the afternoon sun. There was something quiet and radiant about her.
Vulnerable—but unbreakable.
Spencer stood frozen.
And then, something flickered in his eyes—just briefly. A flash of hesitation. A ripple of something he didn't let surface. His tone softened, ever so slightly.
"What if the child belongs to another man?"
Jessica didn't blink.
"I would still keep the child," she said, her voice resolute. "And honestly, I would prefer it if the child were someone else's rather than President King's!"
He flinched.
The words hit harder than she expected.
For a heartbeat, Spencer King—always composed, always in control—was caught off guard. But only for a moment. The next second, his expression darkened, his jaw tightened, and his voice dropped into something dangerously quiet.
"Oh?" he said, voice ice. "I'm curious to hear more…"
Jessica lifted her chin. Her eyes didn't waver.
"If it's another man," she said slowly, "it would be easier for us to reach an agreement. I could even pay him some money. But with President King…" she paused, her words sharp as blades, "…things are a bit too harsh."
Spencer stared at her, his face carved from stone. His breathing slowed. His fingers curled into fists at his side.
"Miss Cooper can casually have a child with a man she doesn't love," he said at last, each word laced with controlled fury, "but I cannot tolerate a woman I don't love giving birth to my child. Do you understand?"
His voice echoed across the room. Cold. Final.
Jessica's breath caught in her throat. The words struck her harder than she expected. Her lips parted slightly, but no reply came.
Spencer King didn't wait for one.
He stared at her for a long moment—his dark eyes endless, bottomless, a void she couldn't read. A single shadow flickered across them—so quick, it vanished before it could be named.
And then… he turned.
With long strides, his tall frame disappeared from her sight, growing smaller and more blurred as he walked out of the café.
But his voice lingered.
Clear. Cold. Unmistakable.
"I'll pick you up for the hospital tomorrow.
And here's a piece of advice: it's best not to test my patience…"
Back at home, Jessica Cooper sat on the edge of her bed, dazed.
The silence in her apartment was deafening.
Her hands rested limply on her thighs. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, but she didn't reach for it. Her eyes stared ahead blankly, while her mind played one sentence over and over like a broken record.
"I'll pick you up for the hospital tomorrow.
It's best not to test my patience…"
It wasn't advice. It was a warning.
A line drawn in the sand.
He wasn't going to let her keep the child.
She knew it from the moment he looked into her eyes and saw his legacy threatened by an unwanted heir.
Her chest tightened. Her throat burned.
Jessica hugged her arms around herself and leaned forward, her forehead resting on her knees. Her head throbbed. Her heart ached. She had told him—she had begged him!—but it still wasn't enough.
Was this really what her life had come to?
That child inside her… it was more than just a pregnancy. It was the last fragile link to something she may never have again.
The doctor's voice echoed again in her mind.
"Your uterus is tilted… if you abort this pregnancy, you may never conceive again…"
She clutched her stomach, gently, protectively. The thought of ending this life inside her—it was like snuffing out the last candle in a dark room. Cold. Final.
Sleep never came that night.
She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, tears blurring her vision but never falling. Her pillow remained dry, but her chest felt soaked in sorrow.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face.
His words.
His indifference.
And the clock ticked on.
By morning, she still had no plan. No escape. No answers.
Only one unshakable truth remained:
She would not give up this child.
Even if it meant going against Spencer King.
Even if it meant standing alone.