Whenever Sofia cried, Joe never asked why—he would unload a storm of scolding on me, claiming he had to "teach me a lesson." Yet the next day, he would bring a gift and soothe me patiently.

A slap followed by a sweet gesture—this was his way, his habitual pattern.

For all those years, I had been trapped in his sweets, never able to see his true heart. Willingly, I endured suffering for him. Tears fell silently as I felt the futility of all those years.

I wiped the blood from the scratches on my thighs—she had drawn blood with her nails—and went to the hospital for a quick bandage.

When I returned to the rental, every door had been removed. People were moving in and out, tossing furniture into the street. I panicked and tried to stop them, but they ignored me entirely.

I recognized them—they were the very same people I had paid off to clear my debts. They were Joe's men.

As he had said, if I behaved, my son and I would be granted a better life. If I didn't… this was the punishment. To vent his anger over Sofia, he destroyed my home, leaving me with nowhere to go.

I rushed inside, desperate to protect my son's belongings. But my heart sank. The crafts we had made together as a family—every little piece—were shattered and strewn across the floor.

I screamed, tears streaming uncontrollably. Just as I bent down to pick up the pieces, someone grabbed my son's ashes.

My eyes went wide. I lunged forward to snatch them back—but a sharp kick sent me sprawling.

"Get lost! Blame yourself for crossing the boss's woman!"

My head struck the corner of a table. Blood poured down my face.

I forced myself upright and called Joe.

"Joe! Please… stop them! I promise, I won't go after Sofia again. Just make them stop, and I'll leave immediately!"

He froze, stunned that I had learned his identity before he expected.

Hearing my heart-wrenching cries, he realized he had gone too far. His heart softened, and he ordered his men to stand down.

When the crowd dispersed, I wiped my tears and ran through the wreckage, digging through shattered furniture to retrieve my son's ashes. My hands were cut and bleeding from shards of glass, but finally, I found the box.

Seeing it intact, I collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably.

When I finally ran out of strength, I crouched there, holding the ashes, stunned and empty.

Joe returned in a rush. Seeing me, he finally exhaled in relief. His eyes softened at my red, swollen face as he knelt patiently to console me.

"Sandra… everything I've done was to keep Sofia comfortable. I promised my brother I'd take care of her. I'll never leave you again. Let me take you and our son to a big house, okay?"

When he held my hand, he noticed it—bloodied, shredded from the shards. His eyes blazed with anger as he pointed at the ashes.

"Sandra… you hurt yourself just for this damn box?"

Despite his fury, he still ached for me. He scooped me up, ready to take me to the hospital.

But then his phone rang—Sofia.

"Joe… my wound… it might be infected…"

Hesitation flickered across his face. In the end, he set me down carefully, giving me instructions.

"Don't touch your wounds. I'll come get you. Then we'll pick up our son together and give him a surprise."

I watched him leave, shaking my head bitterly.

'Joe… I'm not waiting for you anymore.'

I took my documents, lifted my son's ashes, and headed to the train station. On the train back to my hometown, his messages flooded in.

Joe: [Sandra, where are you?]

Joe: [Why can't I find his info when registering him for the private plane I sent him? Is our son…?]

[Gone?]