Tristan Sterling's grip was so strong that Holly Sinclair felt as if her wrist was about to shatter.
"Let go!"
She looked up, her face an icy mask.
'He must be here to stop me again.'
Tristan Sterling's eyes were red, a deep, inescapable sorrow swirling within them.
He truly couldn't bear to lose this baby.
The thought that the baby would soon be gone entirely made his heart twist as if stabbed by a knife.
Seeing him remain silent, only gazing at her with a mournful look, Holly Sinclair's last shred of patience vanished.
"Tristan Sterling—"
"I'll do it."
Just as she was about to explode, she heard him mumble those two words.
Holly Sinclair froze. "?"
'He'll do it?'
'What will he do?'
Suddenly, her hand felt empty.
He had taken the pen from her hand.
"I'm the child's father. This signature…"
Tristan Sterling's voice was hoarse and broken, his eyes growing even redder. "I should be the one to sign."
