&quot;Alright.&quot; Eliza knew she had convinced Alexander.

 I left the hospital room, the cool breeze brushing against my face.

 Reaching the stairwell, I took a deep breath and pulled out my phone to call Vivienne.

 I had to stay tonight.

 Isabella’s distress call had been hung up by Vivienne—could I blame Vivienne for that?

 No.

 Her intention was simple; she didn’t want me to go to Isabella tonight. She didn’t know that Isabella had an emergency.

 Could I blame Isabella?

 No.

 She trusted me enough to call me in a moment of need.

 I could only blame myself.

 I had a responsibility I couldn’t escape from in this matter.

 Vivienne’s call went unanswered, and when I tried again, it went straight to voicemail.

 I assumed Vivienne was angry with me and didn’t want to pick up.

 After a moment’s thought, I typed out a message to Vivienne:

 &quot;Isabella is severely injured.

Victor Sinclair quickly spoke up, &quot;Alexander, bro, don’t say that. Of course, I consider you a friend!&quot;

 &quot;Then tell me the truth.&quot;

 &quot;Before I answer, I have a question for you.&quot;

 &quot;Go ahead.&quot;

 &quot;After you left yesterday, Vivienne said she married you—that you two are husband and wife. Is that true?&quot;

 &quot;Yes,&quot; I answered quietly.

 Victor Sinclair was stunned, clearly not expecting it to be true. &quot;Bro, what’s going on? When did this happen? Why didn’t I know about it?&quot;

 &quot;Three years ago.&quot;

 &quot;Th-three years ago?&quot; Victor Sinclair was incredulous. That meant they’d been married for three years. How was that even possible?

 &quot;So, what you’re saying is… Alexander, you’re… cheating?&quot;

 &quot;Answer my question first. Who told you to go find me yesterday? Who told you about Isabella’s injuries?&

A buzzing filled my head, and it took me a moment to realize that I had just been robbed.

 A sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen, and I froze, too terrified to move.

 The baby—my baby—can’t be harmed!

 I pressed my hand to my stomach, lying on the ground for what felt like an eternity, waiting for the pain to subside. Once it did, I struggled to lift myself up, standing there, lost and unsure of what to do next.

 Should I chase after him or call for help?

 The thief had already disappeared.

 Suddenly, I was at a loss, taking a few steps forward before it hit me—my phone and wallet were still in my bag. I had no money on me, and it seemed like… I couldn’t even get home now.

 I stood there for what felt like ages until I remembered the police station.

 I stopped a passerby and asked, “Excuse me, do you know how to get to the nearest police station?”

 “Ah, that’s quite far. Yo

&quot;Alright.&quot; Eliza knew she had convinced Alexander.

 I left the hospital room, the cool breeze brushing against my face.

 Reaching the stairwell, I took a deep breath and pulled out my phone to call Vivienne.

 I had to stay tonight.

 Isabella’s distress call had been hung up by Vivienne—could I blame Vivienne for that?

 No.

 Her intention was simple; she didn’t want me to go to Isabella tonight. She didn’t know that Isabella had an emergency.

 Could I blame Isabella?

 No.

 She trusted me enough to call me in a moment of need.

 I could only blame myself.

 I had a responsibility I couldn’t escape from in this matter.

 Vivienne’s call went unanswered, and when I tried again, it went straight to voicemail.

 I assumed Vivienne was angry with me and didn’t want to pick up.

 After a moment’s thought, I typed out a message to Vivienne:

 &quot;Isabella is severely injured. Her call to me was a cry for help. No matter what, I bear an unavoidable responsibility. I will sta

Chapter 77