She Gave Him Her All, After Losing Him

Giselle Deveraux was pregnant with her male assistant’s child.

On the night of our ninthanniversary celebration, she brought him home as a guest of honor.

Calm and cold, she looked at me and said, “Knox is a picky eater. From now on, don’t repeat any dish.”

“He’s a light sleeper. Your snoring’s too loud. Pack your things and move to the guest room.”

I didn’t say a word. Carrying the suitcase I had already packed, I quietly made my way to the front door.

The butler stepped forward to stop me, but Giselle sneered. “Let him go. He’ll crawl back like a dog in less than three days.”

That one line sent the room into laughter.

Right there in front of me, they bet ten million dollars, wagering I wouldn’t even make it through the night. They thought I’d come crawling back like some pitiful mutt, begging Giselle to take me in.

But what none of them knew was that the Maybach waiting at the gates had already been arranged.

This time, I was truly leaving.

——

Just as I was about to leave the villa, Giselle suddenly called out behind me.

“Milo, leave your serenity bracelet. Knox has been having nightmares lately.”

The bracelet was a keepsake from my parents. A rare warmth I had left.

I turned, eyes bloodshot, but her gaze remained cold and detached.

“Name your price,” she said.

Nine years of marriage, treated no better than dirt, what price could be put on that?

I didn’t even bother to answer.

All I remembered was the last time I refused to lend Knox Remington my ski goggles. The punishment? Stripped naked by bodyguards and dumped halfway down the mountain.

I removed the bracelet without a word and gently fastened it around Knox’s wrist.

Then I said, “Wishing the three of you happiness and peace.”

For once, my words earned me a sliver of dignity. Giselle glanced back and tossed me a bone.

“Milo, as long as you behave, our child can be yours too.”

But the bracelet slipped off Knox’s wrist and shattered before she could finish.

A shard cut across his leg. Giselle rushed to him, panic flashing across her face.

She snapped at the butler to call the family doctor immediately.

Her frantic reaction drew a few amused glances from those around.

Not just them. Even I found it laughable.

Just last night, as I clutched my chest in the throes of a heart attack, Giselle still insisted on heading out with Knox to watch a meteor shower.

Even as I collapsed, foaming at the mouth, she had stepped over me without so much as a pause.

Before I blacked out, I vaguely heard her instruct the butler, “Disinfect the whole living room. Knox is coming back tomorrow. I don’t want him smelling anything foul.”

Fingers tightening around the suitcase handle, I turned to leave.

But then Giselle grabbed my wrist, her touch ice cold.

“Apologize.”

“Wha—”

Before I could finish, she shoved me roughly toward Knox.

My knee slammed into the diamond shards, scraping open against them, and the white floor was soon stained with blood.

At the sight of it, Giselle recoiled, releasing me with a look full of disdain.

“You broke Knox’s bracelet on purpose and hurt him too. Don’t you think you owe him an apology?”

After marrying Giselle, “I’m sorry” had become my daily chant.

Was the soup too bland? I’m sorry.

Texted her out of worry when she got drunk? Sorry for disturbing you.

I accidentally caught a glimpse of Knox’s message asking her to meet at a hotel. Sorry for invading your privacy.

Biting down on my bloodied lip, I swallowed the bitterness and rose to my feet.

I bowed to Knox, ninety degrees, twice, thrice.

Then, with hollow eyes, I turned to Giselle.

In a voice barely above a whisper, I asked, “Is that enough?”

She stared at the blood staining my lips, her chest rising and falling with barely contained irritation.

“Milo, your precious old man isn’t here anymore. Who do you think you’re putting on this pitiful act for?”

Before I could say a word, the family doctor arrived in a rush.

Without a glance my way, Giselle brushed past me and led the doctor straight to Knox.

While her heart and mind were wrapped around Knox, I stepped quickly through the front door.

Two sharp honks were heard just as I reached the villa’s threshold.

Spotting the silver sedan outside the iron gates, I quickened my pace without thinking.

But before the gate could swing open, two bodyguards appeared out of nowhere and yanked me back by force.

Inside the study, Giselle had me tied up like a criminal on trial.

At her cold command, someone plunged a thick needle, almost as wide as a child’s arm, straight into my vein.

Through the halfopen door, I caught the doctor’s voice.

“President Deveraux, although both Mr. Milo Thatcher and Assistant Remington have RHnegative panda blood, Mr. Thatcher has a history of heart disease. Forcing blood from him might trigger acute shock. I recommend transferring him to the hospital first, then drawing blood for the anemic Assistant Remington—”

“No need to convince me,” Giselle cut in coldly.

“Your only concern is that Knox recovers. As for the rest, I’ll handle it.”

Hearing her footsteps draw near, I slowly shut my eyes.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, her voice laced with a rare trace of gentleness.

“Just hang in there. It’ll be over soon.”

I turned my face away, unwilling to waste a single word on her.

By the time they had drawn 800 milliliters of blood, my lips had turned a sickly shade of purple.

Suddenly, from the master bedroom, Knox began to cough.

The moment she heard it, Giselle pressed down on the doctor’s hand just as he was about to remove the needle and demanded they double the amount.

The doctor, sweating bullets, warned her that any more might kill me.

She hesitated for two seconds, just two, before her voice came cold and firm. “Knox comes first.”

“But—”

I cut him off.

“Do it. Just let me leave once it’s done.”

Giselle stared at my drained face, her eyes burning with a fury colder than ice.

Her lips parted, ready to accuse me of making a scene.

Was I going to walk out over something so petty?

But before she could say a word, Knox’s frail voice rang out from upstairs. “Giselle—”

And just like that, she was pulled away again.

Two days later.

I woke up in a hospital bed after falling into shock, and the first thing I saw was Giselle sitting by the window, calmly reviewing documents.

Our eyes locked, silent and still.

Without a word, she brought over a bowl of cereal and lifted the spoon as if to feed me.

I turned my head slightly.

“I’ll do it myself.”

She said nothing; she just stood there, watching me silently eat half the bowl. Then she finally asked, “Are you feeling unwell anywhere?”

I gave an answer that had nothing to do with her concern. “Please give me my phone.”

Perhaps she heard the distance in my voice because she froze for a moment before signaling the butler to bring it over.

When the phone was in my hand, she noticed the list of missed calls lighting up the screen.

Her voice came quiet but sharp, “Who’s been calling you?”

She never used to ask questions like this.

A flicker of irritation passed through my eyes.

“Someone you don’t know,” I replied flatly.

Undoing the top button of her blouse, she stared down at me with frosty disdain.

“Milo, how long do you plan on keeping up this attitude?”

“Give you a little space and suddenly you think you can do as you please, is that it?”

In the past, whenever she lost her temper, I would reflect, apologize, and try to soothe her wrath.

But now, I simply pointed at the phone vibrating in her hand and said, “Knox is calling you.”

A faint smile flickered in her eyes. As always, she dodged me and walked out into the hallway.

The moment she left, my own phone lit up with a call.

I picked it up, but before I could say a word, a voice burst through, breathless with worry.

“You promised to come find me! Milo, did you change your mind?”

“I didn’t. Something unexpected happened…”

“Unexpected? What happened? No, I'm coming back to the U.S. right now.”

I lowered my gaze, lips pressed into a tight line, and silently cut off the rambling voice.

"Just give me a few more days."

When she returned to the hospital room, I had just ended the call.

She caught the faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips, something she hadn’t seen in a long time. For reasons she couldn’t explain, her chest tightened.

But she had already promised Knox she'd go with him to pick out a crib.

There was no time to ask who I had been talking to. Maybe she thought it was that cousin who dropped by from time to time. After all, ever since marrying her, I’d been left with no friends of my own.

Snatching up her documents, she turned without looking back and said coolly, "Milo, there’s something at the office. I’ll come again tomorrow."

Tomorrow came and went. So did the day after, and the day after that. But she never showed up.

Instead, through mutual friends, I kept receiving clips of her with Knox.

She brought him to parties, dinners, and highprofile events, like a girl newly in love, eager to parade her man before the world.

The day I was discharged from the hospital, she posted a ninephoto grid on social media.

At sunset, she stood atop a romantic hot air balloon, passionately kissing Knox.

I left a comment. [Wishing you both a lifetime of love and a baby on the way.]

Ten minutes later, she called.

I didn’t pick up.

Half an hour later, after handling the discharge alone, I passed by the entrance of the obstetrics department, only to see her and Knox standing there.

At the consultation desk, I overheard a young nurse say brightly, “Ms. Deveraux, your husband really dotes on you. He never lets you come alone. Even during your ultrasounds, he warms the coupling gel himself so it doesn’t feel cold on your belly.”

The mothers waiting nearby all looked on with envy.

For a fleeting moment, I thought we once had a child, too. But she had ended that pregnancy behind my back.

That very day, Knox sent me a voice message, “Giselle lost a bet to me. From now on, she’s only allowed to have children for me.”

I hadn’t even responded yet; not a minute later, she called.

No explanations. No questions.

Just curses. She called me petty. Unbelievably stupid.

And then she screamed, “Milo, a loser like you has no right to have children with me. If I ever do have a baby, it’ll be with someone with better genes!”

…

Snapping back to reality, I was about to walk away when she suddenly strode over, her face cold as ice.

“Why are you just standing there like an idiot?”

I lowered my gaze, instinctively trying to explain, “I wasn’t following you two. It really was just a coincidence. Sorry to bother you.”

“Wait.”

She frowned as she spoke, and I noticed a flicker of jealousy in Knox’s eyes.

Tightening his hold on her waist, Knox smiled and said, “Mr. Thatcher, I really appreciate your blood donation. Without you, I’d probably still be lightheaded. President Deveraux, why don’t we invite Mr. Thatcher to come home with us?”

She gave Knox a satisfied glance before replying, “The kindest man in the world, whatever you say, Knox.”

I had originally planned to grab my luggage and leave, so I didn’t object to his ‘kind’ invitation.

Inside the spacious black car, just as Knox had hoped, I soon spotted a lacy pair of women’s underwear wedged in a seat gap.

“Huh? This. Why is this still in the car? Giselle, I must’ve forgotten to take care of it.”

Knox looked flustered as he grabbed the panties, quickly tucking them into his inner pocket.

She playfully punched his chest a few times, all while subtly observing my reaction.

But when she saw that I wasn’t angry at all, that same sense of frustration she had felt back in the hospital room crept up on her once again.

“Milo, ever since you got in the car, you’ve been glued to your phone.”

Her voice cut through the air, sharp with jealousy.

“Were you chatting with your cousin again? Or someone else I don’t know?”

I had already booked my flight, and without responding, I turned off my phone.

“Just reading the news,” I replied.

Her displeasure deepened at my words, the furrow between her brows deepening.

Suddenly, she snatched the phone from my hands, demanding my password.

“It’s my birthday.”

Nine years of marriage, and yet she kept entering the simple sixdigit code wrong, frustration creeping into her face until the phone locked itself, stubbornly refusing to unlock.

We rode in silence, the tension hanging between us, until we reached our destination.

As soon as the car stopped, her pregnancy nausea hit, and she let Knox help her upstairs to the master bedroom.

Knox, playing the role of the doting husband, ordered the chef to prepare all her favorite dishes.

When she came downstairs, she saw me walking toward the guest room, the sight of my solitary figure striking a chord in her.

For a moment, she hesitated, then turned to the chef and said, “Make two more dishes he usually eats. Set three places for dinner.”

Inside the guest room, I opened my luggage, only to find that my clothes had been slashed to shreds.

Thankfully, the passport and documents I’d tucked deep inside were still intact.

As I began to gather my things and prepare to leave, Knox suddenly blocked the door.

With a black bottle in hand, he looked me up and down with a sneer.

“Milo, I didn’t think you could be this shameless. You’ve become the laughingstock of the entire upper circle, publicly humiliated by me, and you still haven’t left?”

He scoffed, his eyes full of disdain.

“Then again, your old grandma from the Thatcher family passed away last month. Without that big backer, of course, you’re clinging to Miss Deveraux like she’s your only lifeline.”

A thought seemed to amuse him, and he grinned.

“Milo, remember the day you begged and cried for Miss Deveraux to send you to the hospital by helicopter just to see your grandma one last time? Do you know why she didn’t go?”

“Because she had already promised to watch the sunset with me at the beach.”

He held up his phone, showing me a photo.

“Look, this kissing photo was taken at that exact moment.”

I slapped his phone out of his hand and grabbed him by the throat; I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

The bottle in Knox’s hand slipped, and the harsh scent of gasoline hit me instantly.

In the chaos, panic took over, and Knox lit the spilled fuel.

Thick smoke erupted, and flames soon swallowed the room.

Having just been discharged from the hospital, my strength faltered, and I collapsed to the ground, struggling to breathe.

Then, I heard Giselle’s voice, “Milo!”

The sound of servants shouting followed, “Madam, it’s too dangerous! You can’t go in there! Please wait for the fire extinguishers!”

“Move! Milo is still inside!”

Without hesitation, she rushed into the flames.

What she didn’t expect was that Knox was still in there, too.

“Miss, help!”

Before Knox could finish, Giselle dashed toward him without a second thought.

She didn’t even glance at me, turning away without a second look.

Half an hour later, after soothing Knox, she searched the entire villa, but I was nowhere to be found.

At midnight, I stood at the airport.

After mailing a package, I boarded a flight to the UK, coughing all the while.

Just before takeoff, my phone buzzed. A text from Giselle appeared.

[I don’t have time to play hide and seek. Knox has a checkup tomorrow at 10 a.m. You’re coming too to get your lungs checked!]

I didn’t reply.

Instead, I pulled out the SIM card and powered off my phone for good.

Giselle, from that moment on, we were strangers forever.

The next day, at the hospital.

“Giselle, are you okay? Is the baby alright?”

Looking into Knox’s worried eyes, Giselle wrapped her arms around him, her voice soft and tender as she whispered.

"I'm fine. The doctor said the baby is healthy and completely unaffected by yesterday’s accident."

"That’s such a relief. I saw how serious you looked when we got to the hospital and how silent you were. I thought something was wrong with our baby."

Knox’s casual words froze Giselle for a moment.

Unintentionally, the image of me, standing in that blazing fire with cold indifference, flashed in her mind.

Frowning slightly, she opened her email inbox again, irritation growing as I still hadn’t replied, not even a word.

In the past, no matter how coldly she treated me, I had always answered her every request without hesitation.

But now, I had learned to play hard to get.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she accompanied Knox while he was discharged from the hospital, then headed straight for the company.

The moment she entered her office, her assistant’s voice cut through the air, "Your grandpa, Leonardo, has returned to the country and summoned all upper management to the No. 1 conference room for an urgent meeting."

Upon hearing this, Giselle turned and walked toward the meeting room, casually instructing her assistant as she went, "Get me a few sets of the latest suits and watches."

The assistant quickly responded, "Yes, President Deveraux. I’ll arrange it and have them delivered straight to Assistant Remington’s place."

Giselle paused, pinching the bridge of her nose. "No, send them to the Thatcher Grand Residence."

In her mind, since I left the villa, the Thatcher family home was the only place she figured I could possibly be staying.

A week later, late at night.

After finally wrapping up a project, Giselle returned home and found a figure curled up on the living room sofa like a shrimp.

"Milo, how many times have I told you? I’ll come home when I’m done with work. You don’t need to…"

But as she drew closer and realized it was Knox, the sneer on her lips stopped midsentence.

Under her cold stare, Knox couldn’t help but shiver. His expression was a mix of hurt and pleading.

"Giselle... he... he still hasn’t come back. I’ve sent him so many apology messages, but he’s ignored all of them. Maybe I should just move out?"

Seeing the hurt in Knox’s eyes, Giselle’s heart softened. She wrapped her arms around him in a comforting embrace.

She planted a halfhearted kiss on his cheek and gently whispered, urging him to take care of himself, not to overthink things.

"Whether Milo accepts it or not, from now on, this is your home."

Half an hour later, dressed in a robe, Giselle stood alone on the openair balcony, a cigarette dangling from her fingers.

She knew better than to smoke while pregnant, but tonight, she couldn’t seem to help herself.

Almost without thinking, her fingers slid across her phone screen until her eyes landed on my name at the very bottom of her contacts list.

Her thumb hovered over the call button for what felt like an eternity.

After finishing two cigarettes, she finally made her decision. Instead of calling, she typed a warning message.

[Milo, tomorrow is Grandpa’s 80th birthday. Don’t even think about pulling any stunts at the banquet. Don’t embarrass me or Knox.]

On Grandpa Leonardo’s birthday, Giselle arrived in grand fashion, Knox by her side. Together, they looked every bit the inseparable couple.

It wasn’t until Grandpa Leonardo made his grand entrance that Giselle finally released Knox’s hand. She walked over to stand beside the old man, assisting him in greeting the important guests.

“Why didn’t Milo come with you?”

Grandpa Leonardo’s sharp question hung in the air. For once, Knox pressed his lips into a thin line, his voice calm but steady as he spoke up in my defense.

“Sorry, Grandpa. Milo’s been busy preparing the gift these past few days. He’s exhausted, so I told him to rest a bit and come later.”

Two hours flew by in a blur.

The birthday banquet reached its peak, the moment everyone had been waiting for: the giftgiving ceremony.

And yet, I still hadn’t shown up.

Suppressing the unease that gnawed at her, Giselle stepped into a quiet corner and pulled out her phone, dialing my number.

“The number you dialed is currently unavailable…”

Her frustration flared, but she dialed again, only to be met with the cold, mechanical tone of a busy line.

At that moment, a deliveryman entered the banquet hall, his presence unnoticed until he brought forward the three gifts I had sent.

Grandpa Leonardo smiled warmly as he opened the first gift. Inside was a beautifully embroidered Hundred Gods Longevity Scroll that looked so real, it almost seemed alive.

It was clear to anyone that it had taken me months to create, each stitch made with careful precision.

Moved, Grandpa Leonardo gently lifted the second gift.

Inside lay the heirloom gem, once given to me by the Deveraux family’s grandmother when I married Giselle.

As the gem caught the light, the room fell into a hushed silence.

In high society, returning such a treasured heirloom spoke volumes; everyone understood its significance without a word.

Before Grandpa Leonardo could react, Giselle’s face darkened, her expression as cold as stone.

She silently clenched her fists and moved toward the third gift.

Just as I had anticipated, her face remained frozen, her eyes hard as she lifted the lid of the final box.