When I woke up again, I was lying in the guest room of our house.

From outside, I heard Tessa’s silver bell-like laughter echoing through the halls, grating on my nerves like fingernails on glass. A wave of inexplicable anger surged within me.

I got up and walked out.

There she was—Tessa—sitting cross-legged in the living room, giggling as she toyed with something in her hands. My eyes widened in disbelief.

It was the rag doll I had made for my unborn child… torn to shreds.

I rushed toward her and yanked the mutilated doll from her hands. The once soft, fragrant little figure was now filthy, with missing limbs and its seams ripped open. My heart clenched.

Tears slipped from my eyes before I could stop them.

That doll had been my gift—my promise—to the life growing inside me. I had stitched it by hand, clumsily but lovingly, over countless late nights. I wasn’t good at sewing, but I had poured my heart into every single thread, dreaming of the day I would place it in my baby’s arms.

When it was done, I had carefully locked it away in a safe.

Only Bruce and I knew the password.

And yet… he had the audacity to take it—and let her ruin it?

Cradling the ruined doll, I glared at Tessa with fury burning in my chest. I opened my mouth to speak—but before I could utter a single word, a sharp slap cracked across my cheek.

Bruce stood there, face cold, eyes full of scorn.

“Elise, can you stop already?” he barked. “Tessa is pregnant and about to give birth. Can’t you be a little more considerate and let things go?”

My throat tightened. I lifted the torn doll for him to see, my voice trembling.

“Have you forgotten? You and I agreed this was for our child…”

But Bruce cut me off, waving my words away like they were nothing.

“Enough. I don’t want to hear your nonsense. Apologize to Tessa for your behavior—right now.”

He took a step closer, his voice low but filled with warning.

“If you refuse, then we’ll divorce. The Howard Family can’t be tied to an uncultured woman like you.

But Elise, think it through. Your Griffin Family collapsed a decade ago. I’m all you have left. Do you really want your child to be born fatherless? To live in hunger and poverty with you, begging to survive?”

His words struck like knives, each syllable colder than the last.

My heart, once warm with hope, froze completely.

I thought back to the beginning—how excited he’d been about having a baby.

He had read books on prenatal care, researched baby products for hours, dreamed of becoming a father.

But back then, when we were deeply in love, the baby never came. Now, when we were nothing but strangers in the same house… I was pregnant.

He had truly forgotten everything.

Forgotten our vows.

Forgotten the love.

Forgotten me.

Numb, I walked into the kitchen.

I would make one final meal.

A farewell meal.

After that, I would have nothing more to do with Bruce.

He had no idea what was going through my mind.

All he noticed was the dull, lifeless way I moved and for some reason, it made his chest tighten with an emotion he couldn’t name.

I placed the freshly cooked dishes on the table, steam rising gently from the plates. Tessa waddled over, holding her belly and smiling like the queen of the house.

“Oh my goodness, Mr. Howard! You’re spoiling me! These are all my favorite dishes!”

Bruce reached out and stroked her hair gently.

“As long as you like them,” he said with a soft smile. “You’re pregnant. Eat more. You need to take care of yourself.”

I stood nearby, silent, watching their intimate exchange.

At that moment, I no longer felt like a wife—I felt like a maid.

I used to be a pampered young lady who never touched a frying pan.

And now I was serving meals to the woman who had replaced me in my own home.

I remembered how, six months ago, Bruce had insisted I learn how to cook.

How he encouraged me to bring dinner to his office every night. I thought he wanted to show his love to his colleagues—boast about our marriage.

But the truth was, every dish I learned to make… was one of Tessa’s favorites.

Every love-filled lunchbox I had carried in the rain, in the heat, in the cold… had probably gone straight into Tessa’s hands.

Now, right in front of me, Bruce was feeding her like it was the most natural thing in the world. No shame. No guilt.

My body trembled.

But it’s okay.

I’ll be free soon.

This hell I’ve been living in—where I swallow tears instead of food—will come to an end.

I gently caressed my belly.

Before this child is born, I will take him away.

Far from this house.

Far from Bruce.

Far from this cold, unworthy man who calls himself a father.

The day after tomorrow marks the Howard Family’s ancestral worship ceremony—an event held once every ten years and personally overseen by the matriarch.

This would be my first time organizing it and I had poured months of work into every detail.

Even though resentment toward Bruce still burned quietly in my heart, I had no intention of abandoning my responsibilities and disgracing the entire Howard Family.

No—this ceremony mattered far more than my personal pain.

The night before the ceremony, Bruce called for me.

It was the first time he had summoned me on his own since Tessa came into our lives a year ago.

“Tomorrow is the ancestral worship ceremony,” he said plainly, without any preamble. “You should let Tessa take the matriarch’s seat.”

My mind went blank. My face froze.

Seeing my reaction, Bruce cleared his throat and continued in a patronizing tone.

“After all, the child in Tessa ’s womb is my firstborn son. Besides, she’s just a young girl—playful, maybe a little vain. She only wants to sit in that seat for a moment. She’s not trying to challenge you or anything. Don’t worry, the title of Mrs. Howard will always belong to you. No one can replace you.”

He rambled on, but I had already stopped listening.

The ancestral worship ceremony was solemn and sacred—an event watched closely by the entire family group.

And he wanted her to sit in my place, in my seat.

What did that make me?

“Elise, don’t be so quick to refuse,” he coaxed, his voice softening as though he were doing me a favor.

“Just agree to Tessa ’s request this time. Consider it a favor I owe you.

In return, I’ll grant you any wish you want in the future. Sound fair?”

He looked so sure of himself, so confident that I would say yes.

I forced a tight smile and swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat.

“Then I’ll use that wish right now—while you’re still offering it—so there won’t be any misunderstandings later.”

Bruce paused. Then, a slow, knowing smile curled across his lips.

“Alright.”

He reached out to pull me into an embrace, but I stepped aside.

“Wait here. I need to get something.”

I returned holding a document folder—neatly organized, every contract and agreement in place.

Right at the front was a love agreement Bruce had once coaxed me into signing during our passionate courtship.

He hesitated when he saw it.

But I didn’t stop to gauge his thoughts.

I flipped to the last document, opened to the signature page and handed it to him.

“Sign it.”

Bruce chuckled lightly.

“You’re still the same, Elise. No matter how old you get, you’ve always had the heart of a child.”

He picked up the pen and, without even reading the document, signed his name—neatly, decisively, just like he always had.

My hands trembled as I reached for the paper.

It was the divorce agreement.

I had braced myself for a fight—for begging, for resistance—but he signed it so easily, without hesitation.

“Elise, you didn’t need to waste your one wish on something so trivial,” he said warmly. “I’ve signed it. Go home and think of a better wish, something that will truly benefit you.”

He was always like this—always speaking from above, never seeing me as an equal.

I sneered inwardly.

‘The agreement you just signed is the only benefit I’ll ever need from you.’

“No need,” I said flatly, turning away.

With the signed divorce papers in my hand, there was no reason left to keep up appearances.

“I’ll pretend to be ill tomorrow. Let Tessa conduct the ceremony.”

My compliance caught him off guard. For the first time, I saw panic flicker in his eyes.

“Just this once, Elise,” he said quickly. “Don’t worry. The next ten-year memorial service will still be yours.”

I looked back at him, my voice calm and firm.

“The next one? It won’t be me. If she wants it, she can have that one too.”

His expression wavered.

“I’ve also prepared a gift for Tessa. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

He tried to catch up to me, wrapping his arms around me from behind. His voice trembled slightly with emotion.

“You’ve grown up, Elise. If you and Tessa can get along, I’ll finally be at peace.”

But the master bedroom was no longer mine. Tessa had taken that too.

So I returned to the guest room where I’d been temporarily staying.

I stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the glittering skyline.

Tomorrow, it will all be over.

After tomorrow, I will never return to this house again.

I’m going home—home to my brothers, who love me unconditionally.