Brynden Hawthorne's childhood sweetheart, Jennifer Vaughn, was pregnant. No one knew who the father was. To preserve the pristine reputation of this social darling, Brynden decided to claim the child as his own.

Meanwhile, I was his legal wife, which meant my child was set to be labeled a bastard.

"Jennifer is like a hothouse flower. The scandal of an unwed pregnancy would destroy her. She can't bear the accusations and ridicule of New York's high society." With that one casual remark, he erased five years of our marriage.

Later, his family forced me to sign divorce papers and took me to a private clinic for an abortion. They didn't know that the baby in my womb was the only true heir to the Hawthorne family.

And Brynden, doting on her like a priceless treasure, was at Jennifer’s side in a top-tier Swiss private clinic as she prepared to give birth.

By the time he returned to New York, I had already been forced to abort our child. And I had vanished completely from his world.

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1

That day, I had just won a major architectural design project and was heading home to celebrate.

However, the moment I stepped into our Park Avenue penthouse, the first thing I heard was Jennifer's cloyingly sweet, delicate voice.

"Brynden, what should we name our baby? If it's a boy, will he be as handsome as you? But I'm so scared... What if I can't handle the pain of giving birth?"

In the living room, Brynden Hawthorne held her by the shoulders, his gaze so gentle it could melt the winter snows of Manhattan. They were murmuring and laughing over a sonogram. Hearing the sound, Brynden looked up and saw me at the door. His once-soft gaze instantly turned to ice.

My blood ran cold. I advanced on him, my voice a tremor I fought to control. "Brynden, what does she mean by that?"

His arm was still wrapped tightly around Jennifer as he sighed. "Amelia, go back to our room. This is complicated. I'll explain later."

"Explain it to me right now!" I demanded, the design portfolio in my hand slipping from my grasp and scattering across the floor.

Brynden's expression darkened. "Amelia, don't make a scene."

I could no longer control my emotions. I surged forward, pounding his chest with my clenched fists. "Make a scene? Your childhood sweetheart is sitting in my living room, pregnant, and you're telling me not to make a scene?"

"Are you crazy?" The sight of Brynden getting hit sent Jennifer into a panic. She shoved me away, shielding him with her body. With a convenient stumble, the champagne in her hand spilled, drenching the design plans I had just dropped.

She jutted her stomach forward, a flash of vicious provocation in her eyes. "I'm carrying Brynden's child. What right do you have to touch him?"

In that instant, my heart felt like it had been frozen solid and then shattered into a million pieces. Tears streamed down my face.

Brynden watched me cry, his brow furrowed tightly. I could see in his eyes that his patience was wearing thin.

"Amelia, don't listen to her. The child isn't mine."

Before I could even process his words, Jennifer began her performance. Her large, meticulously lined eyes instantly welled with tears. She looked at Brynden, her expression a perfect portrait of betrayal.

"Brynden, you promised you wouldn't tell anyone until after the baby was born! How could you tell her?"

"Amelia is my wife. Since we're all going to be living together in this house, I have no reason to hide it from her," Brynden's voice was rational to the point of cruelty.

Hearing the words "living together," Jennifer stopped crying. In its place, a cruel smile curled her lips.

"Then shouldn't you tell her the rest of it? That for your sake—and so your child can have a legitimate name—my child has to grow up without a father?"

I felt a wave of suffocation, staring intently at Brynden, waiting for a denial. But he remained silent, and his silence was an admission.

Jennifer couldn't hide her triumph, stroking her belly proudly.

"Brynden is making such a huge sacrifice for me, just to silence the gossip in New York's social circles. I'm truly touched. In the future, my child will be the eldest son of the Hawthorne family, with full rights of inheritance. As for your child... well, he can be an adopted son, or maybe we'll send him to boarding school. We can discuss it later."

Fury surged within me, and I raised my hand again. But this time, Brynden caught my wrist, his grip so strong it nearly crushed my bones as he forcibly dragged me toward the master bedroom.

"Let go of me! Tell me what the hell is going on!"

I didn't understand. Was Jennifer really that important? So important that our own child didn't even deserve a name?

Brynden’s eyes flared with open annoyance, as if my very presence was an inconvenience.

"Jennifer has always maintained a flawless socialite image. The Vaughn family is at a critical stage of financing. If news got out that she's pregnant by an unknown man, their stock would plummet and her reputation would be ruined," Brynden explained impatiently, closing the door. "And she can't bear that kind of humiliation and ridicule."

"So you're letting me bear it instead? Letting my child become a bastard?" I asked in disbelief.

"Of course not!" Brynden growled. "This is only temporary. Once she safely gives birth and the gossip dies down, I'll tell everyone the truth."

I stared at Brynden. He had suddenly become a stranger. I no longer recognized the man I had loved for five years.

Just then, the doorbell rang. A delivery man stood at the door, his arms full of packages from high-end boutiques on Fifth Avenue, all for Jennifer.

She didn't even bother to glance at me as she rushed forward, tearing open the boxes one by one.

"Brynden picked all of these for me personally. He said pregnant women must be in a cheerful mood. I swear, if I hadn't stopped him, he would have brought the entire mall home. Oh, this must be a free gift. My baby won't need it, you can have it." She tossed the expensive blanket at my feet as if it were trash.

Brynden frowned. "Jennifer, that's enough," he warned.

But instead of backing down, she pouted, wrapping herself around his arm, her fingertips tracing lightly over his chest.

"Brynden, you know how important a pregnant woman's emotions are. The doctor said if I'm unhappy, the baby will be affected too. You're always so harsh with me, you'll scare the baby."

It was a clumsy performance, but Brynden bought it. The annoyance on his face vanished, replaced by a hint of concern. He even reached out to gently caress her stomach.

Right, because a fetus can feel scared.

I watched the sickening display, a cold knot tightening in my stomach, before turning back to the bedroom.

At that moment, the child I had once longed for had become my greatest sorrow.

Brynden followed close behind, closing the door after him. He looked down at me, his gaze sharp.

"Amelia, you know Jennifer's situation. If I don't help her, her snobbish parents will force her to have an abortion, maybe even kick her out of the house. You're my wife. You should understand me. If there was anything between Jennifer and me, you and I wouldn't be married right now."

I remembered a charity gala where Jennifer was hounded by gossip. She had burst into tears and thrown herself into Brynden's arms, a picture of perfect, trembling fragility.

Brynden immediately softened, defending her and quelling the rumors. Back then, I thought he was a man of integrity. Now, I saw it was just the beginning of his foolish devotion.

"Amelia, no matter what the world thinks, as long as I know you're carrying my child, that's enough. Is a name really that important?"

I felt a gash tear open in my heart, but I still forced out the question that was stuck in my throat.

"If she's so afraid of the shame, why can't she just get rid of the child herself?"

"Jennifer wants to keep the child; it's her own flesh and blood. But she's afraid people will call her child a bastard, so..."

"So now her child is the legitimate Hawthorne heir, while my child becomes the shameful bastard who can't see the light of day. Is that what you mean?" I wasn't crying anymore. I just looked at him with a mocking smile.

Brynden's jaw tightened. A storm was brewing in his eyes.

"No matter what anyone says, this is still my child. And you are my wife. That will never change. Amelia, can't you just be a little more considerate?"

"Jennifer is as delicate as crystal. She can't be expected to suffer through vicious rumors," Brynden said.

I finally understood. She was the crystal, I was the stone. And when a stone is crushed to dust, no one cares.

Despair washed over me like a tidal wave. I took a deep breath, my face set with determination.

"Then I'll get an abortion," I stated, my voice devoid of emotion.

"No!" Brynden immediately rejected the idea, his voice laced with anger and accusation. "Don't be so selfish. Jennifer and her child are innocent. Why would you resort to harming a life just to get back at me?"

"But my child and I are innocent too! Have you ever thought about the kind of life he'll face? Being called a bastard? Being trampled on by Jennifer's child?"

"I'll handle it. How many times do I have to say it? Amelia, you always find a way to disappoint me." With that, Brynden slammed the door and stormed out.

The next day, I woke up to find a dozen bodyguards stationed around the apartment.

Brynden called it "protecting a pregnant woman," but it was house arrest. My phone and laptop were gone, and the landline had been disconnected. My connection to the outside world was completely severed.

He was afraid I would get an abortion.

I was trapped, locked in this gilded cage until my belly began to show, until I was past the three-month mark, when an abortion would be riskier.

That day, there was a commotion downstairs. Jennifer and her parents had arrived with a moving company.

The moment Brenda saw me, she shot me a look of disdain. "The nerve of you, still hanging around while carrying a child of questionable origin. Utterly classless."

"Jennifer is just too kind. If it were me, I would have kicked you out long ago," Roger added. He turned to me, his eyes filled with contempt.

"That's enough. Don't waste your breath on a shameless woman like her. Go help Jennifer settle in."

The Vaughn family prided themselves on their righteousness and strict moral standards. But now, the whole family was helping their daughter become another man's mistress. It was laughable.

Meanwhile, movers were carrying luggage upstairs, bag after bag.

Jennifer hovered near me, a triumphant sneer on her face. "So what if you're Brynden's wife? It's just an empty title. You and that bastard in your belly are nothing compared to me. Soon, it will just be me, Brynden, and our child here. We'll be a real family of three."

A red haze of fury descended. I grabbed a glass of water from the table and threw it hard in her face.

But even that wasn't enough. I grabbed her by the hair, yanked hard, and slapped her across the face.

Jennifer shrieked in pain until Brynden rushed in and shoved me away. I stumbled and hit the wall, a dull ache spreading through my abdomen.

Brenda raised her hand and slapped me hard. "Brynden, this madwoman dared to hit Jennifer! If you don't throw her out, I'm taking Jennifer home. And then, the Hawthorne family won't have a legitimate heir!"

Jennifer looked up, flashing me a victorious smile.

However, Brynden didn't do as Brenda demanded. He let go of Jennifer and strode toward me.

"Amelia is my wife. I won't have her leave. Jennifer can live here too, but I don't want to hear that kind of talk again. They are both my children. They are equally important to me," he said.

Brynden didn't abandon me, but he didn't defend me either. He simply stood by and let them humiliate me.

For Jennifer's "peace of mind," Brynden wanted me to compromise.

And so, my sun-drenched master bedroom overlooking Central Park was taken away. I was forcibly moved to a shabby room in the basement.

"It's just a different place to sleep, to avoid conflict. You'll still have your meals on time and be taken care of," Brynden said.

I sat on the narrow bed, looking at the bare walls. In that moment, any love I had left for him died.

I had made my decision. I had to leave this place. I would never let my child be born into such a twisted environment.