I had gained a lot of weight during my pregnancy, and the diamond ring now fits tightly on my swollen middle finger, leaving an indent in the flesh.

Angelo glanced at it, a flicker of disdain crossing his eyes as his lips curled in contempt.

"You’ve gotten as fat as a pig, and you don’t even try to lose weight. Look at that ring—does it even look good on your hand?"

He sneered, adding, "Some women stay slim even while pregnant. But you? You’ve let yourself go—ugly and sloppy."

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed my hand and began pulling the ring off forcefully. It was snug, and his rough movements rubbed my skin raw, leaving my fingers red and sore.

With every tug, I felt my heart sink deeper into despair.

When I first got pregnant, my health was so poor that he had taken it upon himself to manage my meals, flaunting a nutritionist certificate like a badge of honor. He had seemed attentive, and caring. Now, all of that feels like a distant memory.

I lowered my gaze, my heart aching, unwilling to meet his cold eyes.

Dora’s cheerful voice broke the silence.

"Mr. Greer, what a gorgeous diamond ring! I wish I had one like that!"

Angelo chuckled, his tone affectionate.

"If you like it, I’ll get you an even better one next time," he said with a laugh.

Dora hesitated, feigning guilt.

"But if I take it, won’t my sister be upset?"

He dismissed her concern with a shrug.

"Her hands are swollen like pig’s trotters. Wearing a diamond ring is just a waste on her."

They left together, their voices fading as they moved further away, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence.

I sighed, the weight of my scheduled abortion heavy on my mind, and pulled out my phone to call a taxi. As I opened the app, an update from the local newsfeed appeared on the homepage. My hand slipped, and I accidentally clicked on it.

[Bringing my fiancé home for the New Year!]

The attached photo showed Dora sitting in the passenger seat, her right hand held up to display the diamond ring prominently on her finger. The interior of the car was unmistakable—it was Angelo’s most expensive one.

My breath caught, but I forced myself to give the post a thumbs-up. Seconds later, tears blurred the screen. I quickly wiped them away, switched back to the taxi app, and booked a ride to the hospital.

On the way there, my phone rang. Angelo’s angry voice blared through the speaker as soon as I answered.

"I already told you, I’m just pretending with Dora! Why are you being so petty?"

Before I could respond, Dora’s voice broke in, trembling with faux regret.

"Sister, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have posted that. I just wanted to convince my parents. Please don’t be mad. I’ll delete it right away."

Angelo cut her off impatiently.

"There’s no need to delete it. She’s always making a fuss over nothing. Just ignore her."

The line went dead before I could utter a single word.

The taxi driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror, his expression curious and puzzled. After a moment of silence, he finally asked, “What’s going on, miss?”

I forced a weak smile and replied, "My fiancé is pretending to be his assistant’s boyfriend so he can go home with her for the New Year."

The driver blinked in disbelief before stammering, "Girl… this, this…" He sighed deeply, unable to find the right words.

Even strangers could see how wrong this was, but Angelo acted as if everything he did was perfectly normal.

I lay on the cold operating table, staring at the ceiling as the anesthetic was injected into my veins. When I opened my eyes again, my stomach was deflated, hollow.

Not far away, I saw the tiny, unformed fetus resting inside a black box. Tears streamed silently down my cheeks as I reached out, taking the box from the doctor’s hands.

Staring blankly at the ceiling, I felt an emptiness consuming me.

After what felt like an eternity, I got up and left the hospital, my steps heavy and weak. Passing by radiant new parents cradling their newborns, I could only bow my head and keep walking, feeling like a ghost drifting through their joy.

When I finally returned home, Angelo was lounging on the sofa, a cigarette perched between his fingers. He didn’t even look up as I entered.

When he heard the door open, his face immediately darkened.

"Where have you been? I called you so many times, and you didn’t answer. Hanging out so late—do you even care?"

It was only then that I noticed dozens of missed calls on my phone. I forced myself to explain:

"I just came from the hospital..."

Angelo’s gaze scanned me from head to toe. My swollen belly was hidden beneath my down jacket, giving nothing away. He sneered, his tone cold and dismissive:

"Sherry, you’ve really disappointed me. Do you even think before you lie? You just had your prenatal checkup a few days ago. What excuse is this?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, the bathroom door creaked open. Dora stepped out, wearing my pajamas.

"Sister, where have you been? Mr. Greer couldn’t find you and was worried sick."

I froze, the words I wanted to say stuck in my throat. Turning my gaze to the man on the sofa, I silently begged for an explanation.

He didn’t even bother looking up. His voice was casual, almost indifferent:

"Dora’s lease ended, and she has nowhere to stay. It’s not safe for a young girl to be out alone, so I let her stay here for a few days."

Dora offered a bashful smile and added, "I didn’t bring any pajamas, so I borrowed yours."

Angelo paused, then looked at me with thinly veiled disdain.

"Honestly, you’ve gained so much weight, you can’t even wear those clothes anymore. Why not just let Dora have them?"

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, making my chest tighten with unbearable pain. I couldn’t breathe.

I didn’t argue. I didn’t cry. Instead, I turned and quietly went to the bedroom.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Angelo’s surprised expression—likely shocked that I didn’t throw a fit like usual. He followed me into the room, his tone softening slightly as he spoke.

"Sherry, I’m just being honest. Why are you so upset?"

"Besides, Dora is just a young girl. Why are you being so petty? You’re still the one I want to marry in the end, isn’t that enough?"

His words, meant to placate, only made my stomach churn. I couldn’t believe the audacity, the condescension in his tone.

When I didn’t respond, he stepped closer and reached out to hug me. Before he could, his phone buzzed. A voice message from Dora played aloud:

"Mr. Greer, I think I’d better leave. It seems my sister doesn’t want me here. Please tell her not to let this ruin your relationship because of me—ah…"

The recording abruptly stopped, and Angelo’s expression shifted, his face hardening with panic.

Without a word, he grabbed his coat and pulled me out of the room.

"Come with me to find Dora. If something happens to her, it’ll be your fault! You will apologize to her!"

I protested, my voice shaking with frustration:

"I didn’t make her leave! Why should I apologize?"

Angelo ignored me entirely, dragging me outside. My body, still weak from surgery, stumbled as he nearly shoved me into the car.

Leaning back against the seat, I felt the dull throb of pain in my body blended with the crushing weight of humiliation and grief. My chest felt tight, and I could barely hold back tears.

Angelo, on the other hand, kept his face like stone, saying nothing as he drove. His foot pressed the accelerator to the floor, and within ten minutes, we found Dora on the roadside, collapsed.

The car screeched to a halt. Angelo stormed out, dragging me along with him. My legs buckled under me, and I nearly fell. He didn’t care—he just shoved me in front of Dora.

"Apologize," he barked coldly.

I stared at him, my eyes wide in disbelief.

Dora, with trembling lips and tears pooling in her eyes, shook her head weakly.

"Mr. Greer, I’m fine… There’s no need for her to apologize."

Her voice quivered, but I could see the faint glimmer of satisfaction in her gaze.

Angelo’s face darkened further. He clenched his fists, his voice rising with fury.

"I said, apologize to Dora!"

Before I could react, he lashed out, kicking me hard enough to knock me to the ground. My head spun, my body breaking out in a cold sweat as sharp pain radiated through me.

My vision blurred, my pale face slick with sweat, as I gasped for air. Still, he stood there, unmoving, demanding compliance.

But he remained indifferent, his gaze icy and his teeth clenched as he spat:

"Don’t try to play the victim here. If you don’t apologize today, this matter will never be over!"

The pain wracking my body made it impossible to respond.

Angelo, running out of patience, gave me a cold, disdainful look before carefully lifting Dora into his arms. He glanced down at me, his voice dripping with contempt.

"Since you refuse to admit your mistakes, go outside and cool your head in the fresh air."

The winter wind was unforgiving, biting through to the bone. I lay on the frozen ground, watching as Angelo drove away with Dora.

He had no idea I’d already lost the baby. In his eyes, I was still six months pregnant. Yet, to appease Dora and vent his frustration, he left me—a woman he believed to be carrying his child—alone in the snow.

It felt as though my heart had been submerged in ice. The coldness seeped into every corner of my being, dulling the pain until I was almost numb.

Whatever fragile hope I had left shattered at that moment, and I made a decision: I had to leave.

Summoning what little strength I had, I struggled to my feet and began walking toward the station, the wind cutting against my face. But my body, weakened from the surgery, failed me. After only a few steps, my vision blurred, and darkness swallowed me as I collapsed into the snow.

Meanwhile, Angelo had just carried Dora into his home when an inexplicable wave of unease gripped him.

He realized the spot where he’d left me was nearly ten kilometers from the house—a trek that would take all night in this weather.

Angelo resolved to return for me once Dora had gone to sleep. He reasoned that bringing me back later would prove he still cared for me, even if I’d been stubborn.

But Dora clung to him, her wide, tear-filled eyes fixed on his face.

"Mr. Greer, can you stay with me tonight? On my way here, there was this man… he looked at me in such a creepy way. I’m so scared," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Angelo’s resolve wavered. Her vulnerability tugged at him, and his guilt over leaving me began to fade.

Sensing his hesitation, Dora leaned closer, her voice soft and pleading.

"Just this once, Mr. Greer. You and my sister have a lifetime together, but I only have this moment."

Her words broke through his defenses. Sighing heavily, he murmured,

"Fine, fine. I’ll stay. Don’t worry. Go to sleep."

Pushing his unease aside, he convinced himself that I’d be fine until morning.

But as he drifted into sleep, the shrill ring of his phone jolted him awake. He answered groggily, only for a frantic voice to pierce his ear.

"Sir, are you a relative of Sherry? She was found unconscious in the snow and rushed to our hospital. She’d recently undergone an abortion."

Angelo shot to his feet, his heart pounding.

"What did you just say? Abortion? Who gave you permission to perform an abortion on my wife?"