**Chapter 74** Avery's heart raced, and a torrent of tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she pivoted sharply, pent-up anger surging within her. She stormed out of the station, a storm of emotions breaching the calm façade she'd tried so hard to maintain. She hadn’t signed the release papers, nor had she reclaimed her phone from Elliot—but perhaps that was just as well. As they drove away, silence enveloped the car like a heavy blanket. Elliot, ever the stoic figure, reached into his pocket and handed her phone to her, his voice low and measured. “I didn’t look through it.” The words hung heavily in the air between them as Avery clutched her phone, her breath coming in sharp, anxious bursts. “But you’ve seen what’s inside,” she replied, the hurt lacing her voice more palpable than ever. “Does it really matter? Those pictures…” he trailed off, his indifference puncturing her chest like an icy dagger. Avery clenched her jaw, fighting the urge to unleash her frustration. After all, Elliot had been the one to help retrieve her phone, an act that seemed to blur the lines of their tumultuous relationship. Taking a deep breath, she mustered the courage to voice the thought that had plagued her since the moment they’d discussed the baby. “If I were to tell you that the child you made me terminate wasn’t Cole’s, but yours… would you feel any guilt?” Elliot turned his head, curiosity flashing across his features, but there was something else in his gaze—an unreadable depth that hinted at troubled waters. Avery’s demeanor was serious; she was far from joking. “From the IVF treatments?” he asked, his voice gravelly, the weight of her words settling on him like a shroud. “Yes,” Avery confirmed, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “You ended your own child's life with your own hands. Do you feel any remorse?” Her heart raced as she desperately sought a flicker of regret in his expression, a sign that he was human, capable of feelings—but instead, what she found was a calm, unsettling indifference. “I don’t. It was never meant to be,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. Avery's incredulous laughter was cold, tinged with bitterness. “Would you still think that if your own parents spoke of you in such a way?” He replied, unflinchingly, “I would thank them if they never brought me into this world.” The words were a jolt, and Avery's brows shot up in surprise. Did he genuinely wish he had never been born? The thought unsettled her. Elliot, the man who seemed to have it all—unconditional love from his mother, a successful career, and a host of admirers—was drowning in darkness she had never imagined. “Are you depressed?” she prodded, a flicker of concern breaking through her anger. “There are treatments out there for depression, you know. If you’re sick, you need to see a doctor.” The tension in Elliot’s expression eased slightly, though he shot back with a wry smile. “If being sick means you’d think of me, then by all means, treat me like a patient!” By the time they returned to the mansion, the night had embraced everything in shadows. As Avery retreated to the sanctuary of her room, exhaustion consumed her. The weight of the day slipped through her fingers like sand, and she fell into a deep slumber almost instantaneously. In the depths of sleep, a dream unfolded—a twisted reflection of Elliot’s despair. She witnessed a young version of him, vulnerable under the rigid glare of his father, a man who wielded control like a weapon. The scene was unbearable; young Elliot, subjected to the merciless sting of a belt, cried out in a chorus of anguish that resounded through her very being. The nightmarish images slashed through her like a thunderbolt, wrenching her from sleep as horror gripped her heart. Daylight crept through the window, breaking the darkness around her. Propping herself up on her arms, mustering her thoughts, she whispered to herself, “There’s no way his father would treat him like that. Even if he did, his mother would have intervened... Dreams are often the converse of reality. He wasn’t abused.” But the whispers felt hollow; a gnawing certainty lingered. Elliot’s aversion to the world spoke of realms darker than she could fathom. A disconcerting realization dawned upon her: not only did he harbor resentment toward existence, but he also harbored a reluctance to bring another life into this unforgiving world. No one was inherently bad. Her animosity toward him began to ebb, replaced by a strange empathy. Neither of them were at fault; their lives were merely caught in the relentless grip of fate, weaving a story filled with tragedy and misunderstanding.