I had given Sanz countless chances, but each time, he chose to give up on us.

"Enough, Kayren!"

Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist and pinned me onto the sofa. His eyes flared with frustration. "Five years of marriage and no pregnancy, and now you're lying about being pregnant just to get my attention!"

"I was just busy for a bit, and you're acting like it's the end of the world!"

"Busy?" I laughed bitterly, pulling out my phone. I tossed it in his face, letting the messages do the talking.

"Busy having a baby with someone else, right?"

Sanz's expression darkened. He opened his mouth to explain, but before he could say anything, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and, without hesitation, answered.

"What's wrong?" he asked, softening his voice immediately.

On the other end, Cassandra's tearful voice rang out.

"Honey, I’m about to have a miscarriage! Please, come save me!"

“Damn it!” Sanz cursed under his breath, throwing all my packed things back at me as he spoke gently to her. "Hold on, I’m on my way."

Without even looking at me, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door.

“You wait until I get back. We’ll talk properly then.”

And just like that, he left, never glancing back—not even noticing the blood still trailing down my legs from the miscarriage. I stared at the closed door, a wave of coldness washing over me. For the first time, I didn’t chase after him. I didn’t beg or cry like I used to. Instead, I stood still, wondering what I had been holding onto all these years.

Three minutes later, a notification pinged on my phone. Sanz had sent me a voice message:

"I’ll explain everything about Cassandra, but don’t think you can run. Wherever you go, I’ll drag you back."

Hearing his words, a surge of sadness washed over me.

Eight years of unrequited love. Five years of marriage. And in the end, all I got was a threat.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. I sent a message to a lawyer I knew.

"Hello, I want to file for divorce, as soon as possible."

After handling that, I dragged my weakened body to the traffic police department. Even though I was acting tough, I was in big pain. I was hit by a car earlier.

The police then told me that they had found the car that hit me earlier—it was an unlicensed pink Maserati. When they showed me the surveillance footage, I recognized the familiar figure behind the wheel. A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I called up an old friend.

"Get some people together and help me settle a score. I’ll pay you 100,000 once it’s done."

I wasn’t going to let either the cheating scumbag or the reckless driver get away with it.

I had heard Cassandra used Sanz's money to open a beauty salon for high-end clients. When I arrived, parked right outside among the luxury cars was the unmistakable pink Maserati—the very car Cassandra had bought with the million dollars Sanz had "compensated" her with. And the first thing she did after getting that car was come after me.

My lips curled into a cold sneer as I turned to the security team I brought along.

"Smash it."

Without hesitation, they followed my command. Even before I finished speaking, the first hammer had already come crashing down, leaving a deep dent. The car alarm blared, drawing the attention of everyone inside the salon.

Soon, the clients came rushing outside, but not one of them dared to intervene. It seemed they were all well aware that Cassandra was nothing more than a shameless mistress. They kept their distance, silently watching.

Moments later, Cassandra herself came running out, clearly having just finished with a wealthy client. She hadn’t even taken off her gloves. The moment she saw me, she tried to charge forward, but my bodyguards quickly blocked her.

"Are you insane? You, an old hag, dare to destroy my car? This is private property! I’ll call the police and have you arrested!" she shouted, her voice shrill with anger.

I calmly threw Sanz's transfer records in her face.

"I'm still married to him. It’s my money and my car. What’s wrong with smashing it?"

Cassandra was momentarily speechless. She gritted her teeth, quickly pulling out her phone as if clinging to her last hope. She dialed Sanz several times, but not a single call went through.

By now, the high-end clients were beginning to understand the situation. I could hear them whispering in disdain.

"She looked so respectable, but she’s just a mistress?"

"Using another woman’s husband’s money to buy a car? She got what she deserved!"

I smiled, nodding in agreement.

"And that’s not all!"

With a flick of my wrist, I scattered the screenshots showing Cassandra behind the wheel of her Maserati, hitting me that very morning.

"Not only did she use my husband’s money to buy this car, but she also tried to kill me with it!"

The moment those words left my mouth, the expressions of the wealthy clients shifted instantly.

One of the clients, who had just been served by Cassandra, was so furious that she slapped her across the face.

"I can’t believe I let this mistress touch me. How revolting!"

"Mrs. Vasquez, it’s not true! Don’t believe her lies. She’s the real mistress!" Cassandra pointed at me with trembling hands.

"Don’t you know? The one who isn’t loved is the actual mistress! What she’s doing makes her no better than one! I’ve known Sanz way longer than she has!" She added.

Her voice grew more hysterical as she continued.

"We’ve been in love for so long! If it weren’t for her, Sanz would’ve married me a long time ago! She’s the one who ruined everything!"

Her outburst was almost laughable to me.

"Oh, really?" I raised an eyebrow and slapped her across the face, hard.

"You seduced my husband, caused my car accident, and made me lose my baby. Tell me, which of these am I wrong about?"

As I spoke, a sharp pain radiated from my abdomen, reminding me of everything I had endured. I hadn’t been sure about terminating the pregnancy at first—after all, I had longed for a child for years. But then, on my way to the hospital, out of nowhere, a car hit me. Blood poured from me, and by the time I reached the hospital, it was too late. I had no choice but to undergo the abortion. I lost the baby.

Cassandra’s cruelty wouldn’t go unpunished!

As we argued, the pink Maserati outside was already beyond recognition, smashed to pieces. My friend’s team, motivated by the fact they were dealing with a mistress, was more enthusiastic than ever. Some of them stormed into the beauty salon. Soon, the digital sign outside had been altered to read:

"Owner Cassandra: Proud Mistress, Dedicated to Helping Legitimate Wives Expand Their Families!"

The salon staff had never seen anything like it. Screams filled the air as more and more people gathered outside, snapping photos and whispering to each other.

Cassandra’s face was red with rage. Desperate, she whipped out her phone to call Sanz. This time, he answered.

"Baby, I’m being bullied! Come to the salon and help me!" she whined. After a brief exchange, the call ended.

Cassandra glared at me with disdain, her voice laced with arrogance.

"You old hag, you had the guts to bring people here and cause trouble? Just wait and see what happens!"

I crossed my arms and gave her an indifferent look.

"Let’s see who’ll be the one waiting."