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.

Vivian's brother was innocent? And my father wasn't?

I ground my teeth, unable to believe this was the man I'd loved for ten years. "Benedict, I'm telling you right now—I will make sure Derek Chambers rots in prison!"

Benedict seized my wrist. "No. Phoebe, if you insist on pressing charges, I'll divorce you!"

The air went dead silent.

A laugh tore out of me, raw and broken, my eyes burning red. "Fine. Divorce me."

A wave of panic flickered through Benedict's chest, formless and sharp.

Could Phoebe have found out about the fake marriage?

But before he could think further, Naomi walked in holding my daughter's urn, one eyebrow raised in triumph. "Phoebe, you dare destroy this family's peace, and I'll smash this precious little thing to pieces."

Every drop of blood in my body rushed to my head. I lunged forward, screaming. "Give that back to me! Do you have any idea what that—"

Benedict's palm cracked across my face and sent me to the floor. Meeting my stunned, disbelieving eyes, guilt crept into his voice. "I'm sorry, Phoebe. You insisted on making a scene. I had no choice—"

Naomi raised the urn high above her head, a deliberate threat. "Phoebe. Sign the forgiveness agreement, and everyone walks away happy."

I squeezed my eyes shut against the agony. On one side, my father's body, his eyes still open in death. On the other, the memory of my daughter kicking inside my belly.

I looked at Benedict through bloodshot eyes. "Benedict, do you really have to push me this far?"

Something unreadable passed through his gaze. He frowned, confused. "Phoebe, your father is gone. The dead can't come back. Can't you just think of it as building good karma for our daughter? She's still in the incubator at the hospital—"

But he didn't know yet. Our daughter was already dead.

"I'll sign."

They watched me write my name on the forgiveness agreement. Every one of them smiled, satisfied.

Benedict stared at my eyes—hollow, drained of every last spark of life—and a knot of unease tightened in his chest. He strode toward me, eager to make amends. "Phoebe, don't worry. I'll call the hospital right now and make sure the doctors are giving our daughter the best care."

He dialed. On the other end, a nurse answered as though she'd just heard the most absurd thing in the world. "Layla Young? That baby died right after she was born. You're her father, and you didn't even know?"