Polly's POV

“Sebastian, this wedding dress is stunning! Can I have it? I want to wear it too!” Adele’s voice rang out as she came bouncing down the stairs.

Sebastian didn’t even hesitate and said, “Polly, give the dress to Adele. She’s young and beautiful. She’ll look good in it. You, on the other hand, just shuffle around doing housework all day. You're already wrinkled face and out of shape, it won't suit you.”

Adele giggled sweetly. “You’re the best, Sebastian.”

That dress wasn’t just fabric to me. I’d spent five years designing and perfecting it for our wedding. Every stitch carried my love, my hope, my devotion. I couldn’t even blame Adele for liking it.

But when I looked at Sebastian through my tear-reddened eyes, his expression was cold.

“Don’t be stingy,” he said. “Just name your price.”

Five years of marriage built on servitude. Five years of being the live-in maid, whom no one respected. What was a wedding dress like that worth now?

Honestly, I didn’t care anymore.

The last time I didn’t give up my seat next to Sebastian on the Ferris wheel for Adele, I ended up tied to a seat and forced to go around all night long.

As I received a message, I glanced down at my phone.

[I submitted the entry form. I’ll come pick you up.]

I calmly unlocked the glass case holding the dress, opened it, and then walked back to the guest room without another word. I couldn’t stomach watching their disgusting flirting any longer.

That evening, I was reviewing race data from different clubs when there was a knock at my door. It was Adele.

I didn’t want to talk to her, so I went to shut the door, but she shoved it open with her hand.

She stood there, towering over me with a smug, crooked smile. “Haven’t seen you in a while. You’ve gotten better at playing your cards, haven’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said flatly. “I need to rest.”

But she just sneered and stepped closer, whispering in my ear, “I heard you can’t get pregnant. Ever.”

My fists clenched so tightly they shook. I bit my lip and glared at her, heart pounding.

She looked pleased, like she’d hit a nerve, exactly what she wanted.

“Wanna bet how long it’ll take me to get pregnant with Sebastian’s baby?” she smirked. “Oh, and guess where that veggie juice you drank three years ago came from?”

I shut my eyes, forcing back the fury. My voice trembled as I said, “Get out.”

Only then did she finally leave. But the moment she did, I collapsed against the door and slid to the floor.

I buried my face in my hands and started to sob because everything she said was true.

I would never be able to have children again.

The first time I got pregnant, I had a miscarriage after drinking the “vegetable juice” Sebastian brought home. The second time, I lost the baby after Christian smeared oil on the stairs and I fell down an entire flight.

I bit my lip hard, trying to stifle my cries, but the pain was everywhere. Tiny needles piercing through every inch of my skin, sinking deep into my bones.

The next morning, laughter in the backyard woke me.

I opened the window only to see Adele playing in the garden with Christian while Sebastian sat nearby, watching them with a soft smile.

Anyone looking at them would’ve thought they were a real family.

I closed the window, but their voices still came through like needles under my skin.

I grabbed my bag and headed out. I needed to finalize my racing license and entry documents.

But just as I stepped outside, Adele strolled over.

“You heading out?” she asked casually. “I’ve been craving the pastries from that shop in the north alley. Can you bring me some back?”

Then she added with a triumphant grin, “Thanks for the favor, Mrs. Trivett.”

She stressed the words 'Mrs. Trivett' like a slap to the face, looking me up and down with that same smugness.

I glanced at the red marks on her neck, proof of her night with Sebastian, and felt my fingers curl into fists. I couldn’t stand it, so I left without another word.

After I got everything sorted for the race, I wandered around aimlessly until nightfall before slowly making my way back.

I dropped the pastries on the coffee table and headed upstairs, hoping to avoid everyone.

But Sebastian’s voice cut through the silence behind me.

“You came back and didn’t even say hello?”

I ignored him.

But his tone cooled further. “Come here.”

I calmly slipped off my shoes and put them in the cabinet, my face unreadable.

“Polly,” he said, more sternly, “I don’t like repeating myself.”

Not wanting to start a fight right before leaving, I reluctantly sat beside him.

He frowned, studying my face. “Where have you been all day? You didn’t even make food for Adele or Christian. What kind of housewife can’t even manage the basics? We had to eat instant noodles because of that.”

“Nowhere in particular. Just wandered around,” I simply replied.

He seemed unsettled by my coldness. For a second, something flickered across his face.

He picked up a slice of carrot with his chopsticks and dropped it in my bowl. “You haven’t eaten, have you? Eat something before going back to your room.”

I looked at the carrot and let out a bitter laugh. “Sebastian, I’m allergic to carrots. I can’t eat them.”

He froze, clearly surprised. But before he could react, I pushed back my chair and walked out.

After my shower that night, I stepped out of the bathroom only to find Sebastian sitting on my bed, going through my laptop.

I swallowed the disgust rising in my throat and asked, “Do you need something?”

But he didn’t answer my question and just remarked, “Looks like you’ve cleared out a lot of your stuff from the room.”

My heart skipped a beat. Was he onto me? Was he going to ruin my escape?

“I just got bored,” I replied calmly. “Thought I’d change the decor.”

He nodded, seeming to believe it. But then he said something that made my stomach clench again.

“Someone messaged you just now, asking when you’ll be back on the racetrack.”

He got up and walked toward me, his voice low. “What racetrack? I don’t remember hearing about this.”

I cut him off before he could dig further. “It’s just some in-game chat about a virtual race. Don’t overthink it.”

He stared at me for a moment, like he couldn’t decide whether to believe me or not. But in the end, he dropped it.

I lay down on the bed, hoping he’d leave.

Instead, the next thing I felt was his arm sliding around my waist.

I gasped, immediately pushing him back with both hands.

His brows furrowed at my reaction, sharp and panicked.

I used to be the one who craved his affection, who clung to every little bit of warmth he offered. But what did I just do?

His breath was hot against my ear as he leaned closer.

But I couldn’t take it anymore and shoved him away, breathing heavily. “Sorry, I’m not feeling well tonight.”

Polly's POV

Sebastian looked stunned when I pushed him away, but after hearing my excuse, his expression finally softened.

“If that’s the case, then rest up. Adele and I probably won’t be home tomorrow night, so don’t worry about dinner.”

With that, he turned and left the room.

The next morning, I received a new message from that person.

[Are you ready? I’ll be there tonight.]

Reading it, I let out a quiet breath. It was probably the best thing I’d heard in days.

By lunchtime, it was just me and Christian at home. After he finished his soup, I glanced at his bowl.

“You want more?” I asked.

He licked his lips, gave me a sideways look, and snapped, “No!”

I looked away and responded with a simple, indifferent, “Okay.”

As I started clearing the dishes, he suddenly walked over and tugged at the hem of my shirt.

“Your food’s really good,” he mumbled, “but I still don’t agree to you being my mom. But I guess I’m okay with you staying in our house.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “As what? A maid?”

He hesitated, but then spat, “What else? My dad’s amazing. What makes someone like you think you’re good enough to marry him? Once my dad and Auntie Adele get married, you can keep living here as our maid. I’ve seen him secretly preparing the wedding. Auntie Adele is so pretty, and she even knows how to race. She’ll look like a real fairy in a wedding dress. Only she is good enough to be my mom.”

I had already decided to leave. But hearing that Sebastian was planning a wedding for Adele still stung.

I couldn’t help but remember how he used to hold my waist and say with that soft, loving voice, “You’re the most beautiful and kind girl I’ve ever met. You’ve given so much for this family. When the race is over, I promise I’ll give you a romantic wedding. You deserve it, my beautiful wife.”

So, when exactly did it all change? When did those sweet words turn into insults like housewife, washed-up, maid?

It wasn’t that he didn’t want a wedding. He just didn’t want one with me.

I shoved the ache in my chest aside and looked down at Christian.

“Don’t worry. This ordinary woman will be out of your sight very soon.”

That evening, while I was packing up the last of my things, a message from Sebastian popped up. No words. Just a location.

I frowned. I didn’t want to go. But part of me worried something might’ve actually happened, and I didn’t want anything messing up my escape so close to the finish line. So I called a cab.

It was pouring outside.

By the time I arrived, I was soaked through—clothes clinging to me, hair dripping, not a single dry patch on my body.

I pushed the door open, panting, only to have every head in the room snap toward me, then erupt into laughter.

“No way, she actually came? Damn, Sebastian, your maid’s really committed.”

“I thought ‘maid’ was a code name or something. But no, she actually looks like one!”

“Ugh, lame. I thought you meant the other kind of maid.”

Laughter echoed around me.

If I still didn’t understand what was going on, I’d be an idiot. I glanced at the mirror nearby.

The woman in the reflection looked pathetic—hair a mess, clothes soaked through, like she’d been fished out of a lake.

A dozen emotions hit me at once—shame, hurt, disappointment, rage.

And in the end, all I could do was let out a soft laugh.

I turned to Sebastian and asked calmly, “You happy now?”

Then I spun around and walked out without a second thought.

He caught up to me at the door, grabbing my wrist. “It was just a joke. Do you really have to act like this?”

I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to slap him.

Pulling my hand free, I said coldly, “The joke’s over. Can I leave now?”

Just then, Adele rushed over too, biting her lip and looking pitiful. “I’m so sorry, it was my idea. Don’t be mad at him, blame me. It was just a dumb game.”

I was about to respond when loud voices interrupted us.

I turned and saw a fight breaking out at a nearby restaurant. Someone shouted and suddenly flipped an entire table.

I stepped back to avoid the chaos, but Adele, who had followed me, grabbed my arm and shoved me forward.

My eyes widened as I watched a pot of boiling soup come flying straight at me.

Her voice rang in my ears like a curse as she said, “You never should’ve married Sebastian. I successfully killed your sister five years ago. So, there's no way I can't do the same thing to you.”

But in all the noise and confusion, no one else heard her.

Agonizing pain ripped through my body. Before I blacked out, the last thing I saw was Sebastian holding Adele tightly in his arms.

Polly's POV

When I woke up again, the first thing I saw was the blinding white ceiling. The moment I shifted even slightly, pain pierced through every inch of my body.

Looking down at my arm wrapped tightly in bandages, I had a good guess at just how bad my injuries were.

The door creaked open, and I turned my head to see Sebastian walking in.

The moment I saw his figure, I immediately looked away. But he sat down beside me and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“The situation was chaotic. I didn’t have time to look after you,” he said.

When I didn’t respond, he went on, trying to explain, “That whole ‘maid’ label on your contact—that wasn’t me. Must’ve been Christian messing around with my phone. You don’t need to take it so seriously. He’s just a kid.”

Then he added with a faint hint of blame, “Besides, Adele has a big race coming up. I couldn’t risk her getting seriously hurt. It’s not like you have anything important going on. Besides, being in the hospital gives you a break, doesn’t it?”

He opened his mouth to say more, but a nurse walked in before he could continue. “Who’s Sebastian Trivett? The burn cream you requested is ready. You can pick it up from the pharmacy.”

Sebastian immediately stood up. “Adele’s hand got a little splashed. I’ll go check on her. You stay here and rest.”

And just like that, he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him, and my heart clenched painfully.

I grabbed my phone, struggling to keep the shake out of my voice as I made the call. “I’m at City Hospital, Room 3512. Come pick me up.”

Third Person's POV

Sebastian was dabbing ointment on Adele’s hand when he suddenly remembered how badly bandaged Polly was back in the room. The contrast hit him hard.

Seeing him lost in thought, Adele’s eyes narrowed slightly, jealousy flickering beneath her fake concern.

“Sebastian, do you think this will scar?” she asked, her eyes red, tears threatening to fall.

“No, don’t worry,” he said softly. “I’ll get you the best dermatologist. It won’t leave a mark.”

Once he finished comforting Adele, it occurred to him to check on Polly again. But when he returned to her hospital room, it was already empty.

His heart sank.

He felt something was off.

He immediately pulled out his phone to call her, but before he could dial, Adele’s voice came from behind him.

“Sebastian, I think I twisted my ankle just now. Can you take a look?”

Sebastian looked back at the empty room. He figured Polly had just gone home early and turned away, kneeling in front of Adele to massage her ankle.

When he got home, he rushed to Polly's room.

But the moment he opened the door, he froze.

The room was nearly bare—too clean, too empty. There wasn’t a single sign of someone still living there.

Gripping the door handle tightly, dozens of thoughts raced through his mind.

'No. She won't leave me. She can't have.'

With that thought in mind, he ran to the housekeeper and asked, “Where’s Polly?”

“She came back, picked up a suitcase, and left,” the servant replied.

'A suitcase? She really left? Where would she even go?' he wondered, panicking.

He thought back to how cold Polly had looked in the hospital. And suddenly, a dreadful weight sank in his chest.

She was mad. She was furious he hadn’t protected her.

He took out his phone and fired off message after message.

[Stop being so dramatic. Adele’s a professional racer. If I hadn’t saved her, she wouldn’t be able to compete again.]

[Polly, you’ve made your point. You really think I have time to coddle you every single day?]

[Come back. I’ll make it up to you, okay? Besides, you’re not even that badly hurt. What are you trying to prove?]

Sitting on the sofa, he lit a cigarette, his face dark with frustration. His long fingers clenched the cigarette tightly, the glow flickering red.

But even after he finished smoking, there was still no response.

Polly hadn’t read any of his messages. Not one.

Irritated, he tossed the cigarette into the trash and typed one last message.

[I’ll be waiting at the church in three days. Let’s have the wedding. If you don’t show up, then forget it. We’ll never get married.]

He didn’t believe Polly would actually ignore that.

Three days later, the church was packed. Sebastian stood at the altar, watching the door, his heart pounding.

Only thirty minutes until the ceremony started, but still, no sign of Polly.

He took deeper, sharper breaths, chest rising and falling with anxiety. His eyes never left the doors, silently praying that any moment, I’d walk in wearing a wedding dress.

Minutes ticked by. Guests began whispering amongst themselves.

Sebastian’s nerves were stretched thin. His fingers clutched his phone tightly, knuckles turning white.

Then, the bells rang. The wedding was officially beginning.

And just as he was starting to panic completely, the doors opened.

His heart leapt. Joy flooded his eyes as he hurried toward the entrance.

But he stopped dead in his tracks.

It wasn’t Polly.

It was a courier.

“Who’s Mr. Sebastian Trivett?” the deliveryman called. “Miss Polly Feron asked me to deliver her wedding gift. She said I should read it aloud to you.”

Everyone turned to watch, curiosity painted all over their faces.

“The first item is an award certificate,” the courier announced.

Sebastian blinked, confused—until he saw what the certificate was. His eyes widened when he saw that it was a racing award certificate for the Racing Royals Competition with "Polly Feron" written on it.

He couldn't believe his wife was a racing champion.

“The second item is a divorce agreement. Miss Feron sends her regards and wishes you and Miss Adele a lifetime of mutual loyalty and everlasting love,” the man continued.

Hearing that, Sebastian’s phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor.

He then reached out with trembling fingers and picked up the divorce papers.

His eyes stared at the signature, full of disbelief.