Vivian's voice drifted through the wall, coy and teasing. "He was just born. How could he possibly be talking?"

Benedict's tone was dripping with adoration. "He's our son. Of course he's smart. He'll pick it up in no time, won't you, Lawrence?"

I clutched my stillborn daughter, her body still warm, and collapsed forward, howling into the sheets. Benedict had promised me—if it was a boy, Lawrence. If it was a girl, Layla.

Now I couldn't even keep my child, and the name had been given to someone else.

A long time passed.

Benedict strolled in, smiling carelessly as he brushed the hair from my forehead. "You're awake? Sweetheart, you worked so hard, giving me such a beautiful daughter. Here—a little something for your trouble."

He pressed a small cash gift into my hand. I glanced past him and saw the baby in the bassinet beside the neighboring bed. That was when I realized—Benedict had it wrong. He thought the other woman's baby was mine.

"Benedict, don't you have anything to explain to me?"

He blinked, caught off guard. "Babe, I swear there's nothing between me and Vivian."

"I know you're still upset that she and I had a child together, but she went through labor for my sake. I have to take responsibility for her."

I opened my mouth to speak again, but a pained cry from Vivian's room pulled his attention away.

At the same moment, a nurse walked in carrying a small urn. She frowned, glancing between me and Benedict.

"This is—"

But before she could finish, Benedict was already gone, rushing to Vivian's side. He caught her in his arms and snapped, "Are you out of your mind?!"

"You just gave birth! You can't be getting out of bed by yourself!"

Vivian's eyes brimmed with tears. "I'm sorry, Benedict. I wanted to go apologize to Phoebe. I was so selfish. I just wanted so badly to have a child who looked like your brother, to keep me company..."

Benedict wiped her tears away with unbearable tenderness. "What are you crying for? You're not the other woman. Technically, you're the one on my marriage certificate. Phoebe's the mistress."

In that moment, my heart split open like a wound torn with a dull blade. Tears fell from my eyes, heavy and fat, shattering against the floor.

The day he proposed, Benedict's eyes had held nothing but me.

"Phoebe, marrying you is the greatest blessing of my life. I will never, ever let you down."

Now he was calling me the mistress.

The day I was discharged, Benedict instinctively guided Vivian into the passenger seat.

When he saw me freeze, he offered an explanation. "Phoebe, Vivian's not feeling well, and she gets carsick, so..."

The sticker on the passenger-side window still read "Phoebe's Seat."

The irony was suffocating.

On the drive home, Benedict transferred me $131.40, as if afraid I might be angry. "Phoebe, our daughter's still in the incubator. If you need more money, just say the word. Your husband can afford it."

A metallic taste surged up the back of my throat.

I almost told him. The baby was gone.

But my gaze drifted past the screen of my phone and landed on Vivian in the passenger seat, picking up her own phone. She'd just accepted a transfer from Benedict.

$1,314,520.

In the silence of that car, an invisible handprint burned across my face.

Benedict brought Vivian back to our home without a shred of hesitation. "Phoebe, Vivian's still recovering from the delivery. She needs someone to look after her. Can you just be understanding about this? For me?"

If this had been before, I would have screamed. I would have torn the walls down.

But now, something in me simply... gave out.

"Fine."

Benedict looked stunned for a second, then slid a gold bracelet onto my wrist. "Good girl. I knew you'd be the bigger person."

But the bracelet—it was the same design Vivian had shown off on her social media.

I stood there and watched them empty our bedroom. Watched them move Vivian's things into the room that had been ours. Our home. Our bed.

My heart cooled, degree by degree.

Then my phone buzzed. A notification from a bargain-shopping app, linked through Naomi's profile page. I tapped through, scrolling idly.

And there it was. The exact same bracelet on my wrist. Listed at $9.99. Fake gold.

My skull hummed with a high-pitched ringing. Ten years. Ten years of love, and in Benedict's eyes, all I was worth was a $9.99 knockoff.

That night, grief over losing my child consumed me, and I spiked a high fever.

"Water... I need water..."

No one answered.

I forced myself up to pour a glass, but the bedroom door was wide open.

Vivian's cheeks were flushed. "Lawrence is full now, but my chest is so swollen it hurts... Benedict, could you..."

Benedict leaned down. "Sure."

The door closed. The sounds that followed seeped through the walls.

Like someone was carving a hole straight through my heart.

I thought of the first time Benedict kissed me, his face red with embarrassment. "Phoebe, can I kiss you?"

Now he was touching another woman.

Somewhere in my feverish haze, a large hand pressed against my forehead.

"Phoebe, you're burning up. Take this medicine."

Benedict stayed by my side the entire night. When I finally came to, he handed me a suitcase he'd already packed.

"Honey, I put together all the things you usually like. You should stay in the attic for a while, just so you don't pass whatever you have to Vivian and the baby."

He met my look of disbelief.

He shifted uncomfortably. "Phoebe, I know this isn't fair to you, but..."

"Don't bother explaining. I understand."

My daughter's ashes hadn't even been buried yet.

I glanced at my phone. Seven more days. After that, I would never endure this kind of humiliation again.

Ten years ago, we'd lived in an attic just like this one. Cramped, dusty, suffocating.

Cheap rent. Seven-dollar egg fried rice. And I'd been so happy I could burst.

Now he drove cars worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. He had a gentle, devoted wife. A son he adored.

And all I had were the salt of my own tears.

In the middle of the night, someone yanked me out of sleep. A palm cracked across my face, the sting white-hot.

"Phoebe Henson, a viper like you deserves to die! You couldn't hold on to your own child, so now you're trying to hurt Vivian's son!"

I stared at her, bewildered.

"Mom, what are you talking about? I didn't—"

Naomi's foot slammed into my lower abdomen, right where I'd had the surgery. The pain folded me in half, and I crumpled to the floor.

"Still lying! Who else would slip Lawrence sleeping pills? You're jealous that Vivian can give this family a son!"

"Someone get in here. Drag her outside and make her kneel! She can come back when she's ready to admit what she did!"

Benedict rushed in and stepped between us. "Mom, it's snowing outside. Phoebe just got through her postpartum recovery."

Naomi's lip curled. "You're still protecting this wretch? Keep it up and she'll drive Vivian to an early grave. How would you face your brother's spirit? How would you face our ancestors?"

There was a time when Naomi couldn't say a single harsh word about me before Benedict would push back. Now he just stood there.

His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white. "Phoebe, just apologize to Vivian."

I laughed. Tears spilled down my cheeks. "If I told you I didn't do it, would you believe me?"

Benedict looked at me with something close to disappointment. "They found sleeping pills outside the attic, Phoebe. What am I supposed to believe?"

The servants forced me to my knees in the snow. The cold bit through to the bone, spreading from my kneecaps through every inch of my body. My lips went white. My abdomen cramped in waves, each one dragging me closer to blacking out. I dug my nails into my palms just to stay conscious.

Inside the house, the warm glow of a happy family. Benedict was bouncing the baby in his arms. "Lawrence, Daddy's gonna make you fly!"

Vivian watched from the couch, smiling. "That's enough, Benedict. You'll scare him."

Benedict grinned. "My son? No way. A Young man doesn't scare that easy."

Every word was a blade dipped in ice, plunging into my chest one after another, until there was nothing left but raw, bleeding ruin.

My vision went black. The last thing I saw before I collapsed was Benedict rushing toward me, panic etched across his face.

This time, he was more attentive than ever, hovering by my side nearly twenty-four hours a day.

"Phoebe, Mom was just angry. I was afraid that if I spoke up for you, it would only make her worse. You have to understand—being caught between you two puts me in an impossible position."

Before, he'd never said anything like that.

Vivian watched the scene unfold, her expression darkening.

That afternoon, my phone rang.

On the other end, my mother was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. The news of my father's car accident struck like a bolt of lightning straight through my chest. When I saw his body lying there, cold and still, I shattered completely.

By the time we finished making the arrangements, it was the middle of the night.

I dragged my exhausted body home, and the moment I saw Benedict, the dam broke. Tears poured down my face.

After I told him everything, he pulled me into his arms, his voice thick with emotion. "Phoebe, don't worry. I'll get justice for your father. I'll make sure whoever did this pays for it."

My eyes burned with fresh tears. I placed every last shred of hope in him.

The next day, I found him holding Vivian in his arms while she wept.

"Benedict, what are we going to do? My brother killed Phoebe's father in that accident. She'll never let him go..."

"Please, talk to Phoebe for me? Convince her to let my brother off."

Benedict's face was half-swallowed by shadow.

After a long silence, I heard him speak. "Don't cry, Vivian. Crying too long isn't good for your health. I'll take care of it. Here's a plane ticket. Have your brother fly overseas for a while, let things cool down."

Something inside my chest cracked apart.

The blood drained from my face. A high-pitched ringing filled my skull.

Benedict, is this what you meant by getting justice for my father?

He slid the forgiveness agreement across the table toward me.

"Babe, I just bought a new penthouse. Your name's on the deed—it's my way of showing you how committed I am to you and only you."

He was so certain I loved him blindly that he was convinced I'd believe this was nothing more than a property agreement.

"Is that so?"

His eyes darted. He pressed his hand over mine before I could flip to the next page. "Babe, I've got things at the office that need my attention. Just sign it, okay? Don't you trust your husband?"

How am I supposed to trust you, Benedict?

Was it when you left me alone in the delivery room? Or when you decided to let my father die unavenged so you could protect Vivian's brother?

Days of swallowed grief and buried pain finally erupted all at once.

I raised my hand and slapped him across the face. "You knew it was Vivian's brother who killed my father, and now you're shoving a forgiveness agreement in my face, asking me to personally pardon the man who took his life. Do you think I'm some kind of fool you can toy with?"

Benedict's pupils trembled. "Phoebe... you already know."

"Fine. Since you already know, I won't hide it anymore. Vivian's brother is the only male heir in her family. And it wasn't intentional. Your father ran a red light in the rain. If you ask me, he had it coming."

Had it coming?

A knot of fury lodged in my throat, too heavy to swallow, too bitter to spit out.

I'd seen the surveillance footage from that intersection. My father had the green light. Now he was dead, and they still had the nerve to smear his name.

Vivian suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me, clutching the baby to her chest. "Phoebe, I'm begging you. If you forgive my brother and keep him out of prison, I promise I'll take the child and leave. I'll disappear from Benedict's life for good."

She knocked her forehead against the floor, tears streaming down her face.

Something pained flickered through Benedict's eyes. He moved to shield Vivian and the child. "Phoebe, when did you become so unreasonable? Your father's death was an accident. Are you really going to destroy an innocent man's future over this?"

My heart felt like it had been placed on a millstone, ground down again and again, until the pain was so immense I could barely breathe.