Divorce Contract C46

Chapter 46

Contrary to how urgent the situation had seemed, the surgery ended quickly. The newborn weighed barely one kilogram. The baby was immediately transferred to the neonatal intensive care unit. By the time Seo Dohyeon signed the consent forms for the newborn’s sex, phenotype, blood type, and genetic testing, Go Igyeol had already been moved into a hospital room.

“Executive Director, are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“How… did this happen?”

“Exactly. How. What room is it?”

Unlike Yoon Jaeseon, whose face was etched with worry, Seo Dohyeon’s expression hardly shifted. Watching the man for any sign of guilt, Jaeseon led him to the VIP ward. They took the elevator to the ninth floor, passed through security, and crossed a glass bridge.

“They say this area is completely off-limits to outsiders.”

“Please handle the restrictions as you see fit, Director Yoon. How is Go Igyeol’s condition?”

“He hasn’t woken from the anesthesia yet. They say he should wake soon, but it varies from patient to patient.”

“I see. Understood.”

Seo Dohyeon nodded, walking alongside Jaeseon until he suddenly stopped.

“Is something wrong?”

“I’d like to wash my hands. There’s blood on them.”

“Ah, this way.”

Following Jaeseon’s guidance, Seo Dohyeon entered the restroom and washed his hands for a long time, scrubbing at the dried blood. His clothes too bore stark stains. It didn’t seem right to keep walking around in such a state. After a moment’s hesitation, he called Jaeseon back.

“Executive Director?”

“I’ll need a change of clothes.”

“I’ll fetch them right away.”

“Thank you. Just tell me the room number and I’ll find it myself.”

Jaeseon gave him the hospital room number and bowed lightly. At Seo Dohyeon’s remark that he should come quickly rather than offer polite farewells, Jaeseon turned and hurried down the empty hall, the sound of his steps echoing. Only then did Seo Dohyeon move.

At least it wasn’t a miscarriage but a premature birth. Perhaps that would soften the blow for Igyeol. Even though the baby came early, it was alive.

“Damn it.”

There was no question. The responsibility for Igyeol’s premature labor was his. One hundred percent.

“Ha.”

The stress of an unfaithful spouse’s pregnancy had been enough; now, to find himself the cause of premature labor only deepened his frustration.

V901.

He stopped before the room, exhaling slowly. It wasn’t nerves, but he still found himself reluctant to enter. Maybe he should wait until Jaeseon returned with fresh clothes. He was debating that trivial matter when he finally pushed the door open.

Even though he knew Igyeol was unconscious, he softened his steps. Inside, the space looked more like a luxury suite than a hospital room. Igyeol lay neatly on a bed just smaller than the one at home.

With each breath, the mask over his face fogged. The stiff hospital gown had replaced his clothing. The accessories Seo Dohyeon had forced on him had all been removed and gathered neatly on the bedside table.

Still, he was pale. Dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes, and the lips beneath the respirator were white and cracked like parched ground. Of the doctor’s earlier explanations, only fragments remained in Seo Dohyeon’s memory: the blood loss had been severe; the baby was underweight for its term.

Sitting in the guardian’s chair at the foot of the bed, Seo Dohyeon stared at Igyeol’s sunken belly. Just a month ago it had been full, and now its flatness seemed unfamiliar. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands, until a sound behind him made him straighten.

“Ah, the patient hasn’t woken yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“As I mentioned earlier, the surgery went well. We were worried, given how small the baby was, but the health is stable. The baby is in the incubator and can regulate body temperature on its own. It will remain there until reaching 1.8 kilograms, about thirty-four weeks. And… the phenotype test, blood type, and genetic results will be ready tomorrow.”

The doctor’s voice carefully explained the states of both baby and mother.

“As for the patient, the womb is very weakened. The lining has thinned considerably. Unlike stamina, once organs deteriorate, it’s almost impossible to return them to their original health. Regrettably, future pregnancies will likely be difficult. Even if conception occurs naturally, maintaining the pregnancy will be near impossible. Do you have any questions?”

Throughout the explanation, the surgeon who had led the emergency procedure alternated glances between the sleeping Igyeol and Seo Dohyeon. Toward Dohyeon, the eyes carried thinly veiled contempt; toward Igyeol, unmistakable pity.

“No, none.”

The doctor didn’t know the details between them, but bringing an omega in such condition to the VIP ward left little doubt that the partner was a man of status—and a bastard. Hospital policy mandated reporting premature labor due to spousal violence, but for some reason higher-ups had hushed it, covering everything. The doctor forced a smile and hugged the chart close.

“And… please tell him to press the white button whenever the pain worsens. The thin tube you see connects to the incision site—it’s the painkiller.”

“All right.”

“The attending doctor will come in the morning. If the patient wakes and feels discomfort, press the call button.”

She bowed lightly to Seo Dohyeon and turned. As soon as she opened the door, another man was there, fist raised mid-knock.

“Hello.”

“Yes, hello.”

She stepped aside, holding the door with her back, smiling faintly.

“Thank you.”

“Yes, go on in.”

“Yes.”

The man entered carefully.

“Executive Director, I brought the clothes you asked for.”

“Leave them there and go.”

“Understood.”

Seo Dohyeon thanked Yoon Jaeseon for everything—being summoned late at night, driving, overseeing the emergency admission and surgery. Despite his cold face, he looked exhausted. Jaeseon answered that it was nothing.

“Then I’ll take my leave.”

“Tomorrow—no, today, rather—you won’t be able to come in. Bring any documents needing signatures here, and we’ll handle meetings by video. Prepare my laptop and tablet.”

“Yes.”

Jaeseon bowed deeply. Sleep must have been scarce during the rut; perhaps that was why the atmosphere was so tense. Saying nothing more, Jaeseon left the room.

The hospital room was silent but for Igyeol’s breathing. Seo Dohyeon stared at the unconscious figure for hours, thoughts tangled. Testing for phenotype and genetics was mandatory, but knowing the child wasn’t his, he had no anticipation for the results. A miracle that another man’s child would become his? That would never happen, nor should it.

That was why he had refused the offer to see the baby. What would be the point of seeing a child who shared no blood with him? He wasn’t the father, and no paternal affection would spring forth from a glimpse at the infant’s face.

If anything, he thought it fortunate the baby had come out early.

Lately, his grandfather, obsessed again with family dinners, harassed Jaeseon daily to arrange them. Perhaps focusing on Igyeol’s recovery would be better. Future pregnancies might be impossible, but children had never been part of the contract anyway.

The birth would forever remain a secret known to no one. The clause preventing Igyeol from seeing the child would be enforced to the letter. The baby would be sent far away, according to contract. Who the new parents would be was no concern of Seo Dohyeon’s. The longer the baby lingered in an incubator until thirty-four weeks, the more it irritated him.

“Ha…”

So why did he feel this unsettled? He couldn’t forget what Igyeol had said before, those words that still echoed in his mind—eyes filled with resentment, voice thick with tears.

“You wanted this from the start, didn’t you? You wanted the baby gone.”

Igyeol had recoiled from his pheromones, even called them disgusting. At the time, the urgency had left no room to respond, but if he had truly wanted the baby gone, he would have arranged for a hospital the moment he had taken Igyeol. He would have had it quietly removed.

“Damn it.”

Whether miscarriage or premature birth, there was no way Igyeol could ever confirm the baby’s fate. So why did it matter? Why should the life or death of that child hold any weight at all?