Chapter 581 Miscarriage Night: Serafina, Can't You Be More Understanding? 1
"I'm miscarrying," Serafina whispered, her voice trembling.
But her words were drowned by the storm raging outside, lost in the cacophony of thunder and rain. Jacob couldn't hear her through the phone.
He stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the business club, watching lightning split the darkened sky as torrential rain pounded against the glass. The power had gone out, and they were switching to backup generators. To make matters worse, he'd just encountered Isadora moments ago.
The Windsor Group's new PR manager, oblivious to Jacob's preferences, had invited the actress who had once tried to kiss him to this business dinner. The celebrity, apparently eager to rebuild professional connections, had actually shown up to the event.
Jacob hadn't known what to say about it.
Then Isadora had witnessed their business meeting.
When Serafina called, Jacob naturally assumed she was checking up on him because of the actress.
Normally, he would have explained properly, but between the storm drowning out Serafina's voice and his frustration over the difficult negotiations, his mood was far from pleasant.
"Did Isadora tell you?" he said, irritation evident in his tone. "That actress showing up was unexpected. Stop being so suspicious all the time. I have no intention of betraying our marriage." He rubbed his temple and continued, "I'm already exhausted from work! Serafina, can't you be more understanding?"
The thunder swallowed most of his words, but Serafina pieced together enough.
Serafina gripped the edge of the sink, feeling sharp pains pulling at her abdomen. She couldn't afford to argue with Jacob—any further delay and she would lose the baby.
She tried once more, raising her voice, "Jacob, I'm miscarrying. Can you please come home?"
Again, he didn't hear her.
The business club's power returned, lights flickering on one by one. Jacob's second secretary approached him quietly. "Mr. Windsor, we can resume negotiations now."
Without thinking, Jacob said to Serafina, "We'll talk when I get home," and hung up.
Serafina stood frozen for just seconds before struggling through the darkness toward the staircase.
"Get the car ready! I need to go to the hospital," she called down to the staff.
Yasmin, the housekeeper, was the first to spot her. "Mrs. Windsor, what's wrong?" she gasped, rushing up the stairs.
Serafina clutched her stomach, her face ashen.
Between her legs, a drop of bright red blood fell onto the tile floor. Soon, more drops followed, forming a small crimson puddle in the darkness.
Yasmin, having experienced enough in life to understand immediately, let out a piercing cry that echoed through the vast mansion: "Mrs. Windsor is miscarrying!"
The rain hadn't stopped by evening.
At the Montague Group Hospital, Serafina lay on the sterile operating table, staring blankly at the ceiling. The baby was gone. Since the pregnancy had only been a few weeks along, the physical procedure hadn't been too painful.
Yet as she placed a trembling hand on her now-empty womb, the emotional pain was overwhelming. She had lost her baby too quickly—just hours after discovering its existence.
Tears rolled silently down Serafina's cheeks.
How could she not grieve? It was a life her body had nurtured, her own flesh and blood, her first child.
Outside the operating room, Oliver, Sarah, Elliot, and Diana had all rushed to the hospital. They already knew the outcome. Oliver's face was grave, Sarah's eyes brimmed with tears, and Diana leaned silently against Elliot's side.
"Where the hell is Jacob?" Oliver shouted into his phone at Anya. "Where is he? Still in negotiations? His wife has miscarried and he's worried about business? Can he take all that money to his grave? His phone is off—call his second secretary. If that doesn't work, go to the business club yourself and drag him here. Tell Jacob his wife has miscarried—this isn't some common cold!"
Anya's heart raced with alarm.
She immediately contacted Jacob's second secretary and fortunately got through.
Jacob had just finished his negotiations, successfully closing the deal. His voice sounded relaxed when he answered, "Anya, what is it?"
Anya's mouth opened and closed, her voice finally emerging strained and difficult. "Mrs. Windsor... she's had a miscarriage."
The phone slipped from Jacob's hand.
For the first time, he lost his composure in front of others.
When he finally retrieved his phone, his eyes had a reddish tint, his voice hoarse, "What happened? Where is she? How is she doing?"
Anya explained briefly, "She's at the Montague Group Hospital."
Jacob rose and strode quickly toward the elevator.
He turned on his phone, which had been off, and found no missed calls from Serafina after he had hung up on her. She hadn't called back.
As the elevator descended rapidly, Jacob watched the red numbers change, remembering what he had said to Serafina. His eyes grew moist.
He slammed his fist against the elevator wall.
What a bastard he'd been.
At the Montague Group Hospital, Taylor had finished another surgery and rushed over. She pushed open the door to the recovery room and approached the white bed where Serafina lay awake, perfectly still.
Though Taylor was a doctor, she was also a woman.
She understood Serafina's feelings and gently took her hand. "Uncle Oliver and Aunt Sarah are outside, along with Elliot and Diana. Jacob is on his way," she said softly. "Serafina, you're both still young. You'll have other children."
A tear slid from the corner of Serafina's eye. "The baby is gone."
Taylor's heart ached. Her own marriage to Samuel was troubled, and they had never conceived, though she loved children. Just this morning, she had witnessed Serafina's joy, never imagining this sudden loss.
Taylor didn't make excuses for Jacob.
But she also refrained from mentioning him, knowing he was the last person Serafina wanted to hear about right now. He had failed miserably as a husband.
Footsteps approached from the hallway.
Then came Jacob's anxious voice: "How is Serafina?"
Oliver's response was muffled, indistinct.
A moment later, the door opened and Jacob entered. As he stepped in, he felt a strange apprehension. The antiseptic smell mingled with the faint scent of blood.
Serafina lay on the white bed, her face completely drained of color, silently weeping.
So quiet, so still.
"Serafina," Jacob called, his voice unrecognizably rough, his heart filled with unprecedented panic.