The day Dominic’s precious Ivy returned from studying abroad, he made his choice.

And it wasn’t me.

I stared into his dark eyes, my voice trembling with fury.

“Dominic, have you forgotten? My father became a vegetable saving your life.”

“And now you’re letting them pull his oxygen tube—for her? For Ivy, who has lied, cheated, and killed?”

I was shaking, my lips quivering. Even with the truth in front of me, I still couldn’t believe it. That he would go this far. That he would do this—for her.

Dominic closed his eyes and exhaled, slow and heavy.

“Elena, I’ve punished her. She knows what she did was wrong.”

“We’re all family. There’s no need to drag this through court and make it ugly.”

I knew exactly what his so-called punishment meant.

A few days locked up. Her card was suspended for a week. The same meaningless gestures I’d seen a dozen times in the past eight years.

After Ivy returned, anytime Dominic and I spent more than a few quiet minutes together, her phone calls would come.

Tears. Suicide threats. Scandals that needed cleaning up.

He always told me to ignore her. And then he’d disappear to be by her side.

Every time, he chose her. Every time, I was left behind.

And when I confronted him, he’d smooth it over with a few gentle lies:

“Elena, she’s been an orphan since she was a child. I raised her—she’s my responsibility.”

“She's a little spoiled, sure, but not a bad person. We should be more tolerant. We’re older.”

I believed him—until she killed my mother.

She ran her down in the street, just to stop us from getting married.

Even then, I thought Dominic would finally draw a line.

But he didn’t.

All his so-called principles, all his promises—they were never for me. His heart had always belonged to her.

I stared at the video again, my mother’s final moments replaying in brutal clarity. And the tears I had held back for weeks finally spilled over.

“Dominic,” I whispered, voice hollow. “Fine.”

“I’ll withdraw the lawsuit.”

Surprise flickered in his eyes. A slow, triumphant smile crept across his lips.

“Elena, I knew you were the most sensible one.”

“Let’s have our wedding again in seven days, okay? A proper one this time.”

I didn’t nod. Didn’t shake my head.

I just picked up the pen and signed the withdrawal. Every stroke sliced through me like a blade.

That night, I saw her post on Instagram story: Ivy, smiling at a lavish party, toasting her freedom.

Surrounded by luxury gifts, the most eye-catching was a rare vintage watch—worth three million—auctioned by Dominic himself at his last charity gala.

[Thank you to my dearest uncle, for giving me countless lives.]

Dominic’s profile was among the likes.

Eight years. He never once liked my posts. But hers? He never missed a single one.

When I asked, he always said,

“She’s a little girl. If I don’t like her posts, she throws a tantrum.”

I never fought with him over her. I chose to believe his explanations.

But now, she had taken my mother’s life—and he was celebrating her freedom.

I stood by the window, hand resting on my belly.

This child… was once the gift I wanted to give him.

Now, I couldn’t.

Just like that half-finished wedding—we would never see the second half.

I picked up the phone and called the hospital.

“Hello. I’d like to schedule an abortion.”

My voice was calm. Quiet.

I looked down at my flat stomach. Then I looked away.

Later, I held a funeral for my mother. The funeral parlor was filled with her favorite gardenias.

That day, Dominic arrived.

And he brought Ivy—still holding her hand.

When I entered the funeral parlor, I saw Ivy stepping forward to light incense at the altar.

“Who told you to touch that?” I snapped.

I struck the incense from her hand with a sharp slap. Ash scattered, landing on the back of her hand. Ivy yelped and jumped back—straight into Dominic’s arms.

“Uncle… it burns!” she cried, cradling her hand.

Dominic looked at the slight red mark on her skin, his eyes darkening with anger.

“She was just trying to pay her respects, Elena. Did you really have to hurt her?”

Ivy turned her tearful gaze to me, pitiful as ever.

“Elena, I’m sorry. I only went to the wedding to bring you a gift… I didn’t know things would turn out like that!”

“Uncle’s already punished me. I truly regret what I did.”

She was playing innocent again—and, as always, Dominic fell for it.

I used to let it go for his sake. But not anymore.

I turned to him, my voice cold.

“Dominic, I’ll say it one more time. Take her away.”

Everyone in the hall knew it was Ivy who killed my mother. Whispers rippled through the crowd, and eyes turned toward her, full of blame.

Her pitiful expression twisted into rage.

“She was just an old woman! Even if I hadn’t hit her, she’d have died soon anyway!”

“And if Uncle hadn’t forced me to come light incense, do you think I’d want to be here?”

Before anyone could stop her, Ivy stormed forward and grabbed my mother’s urn.

“You don’t want me to burn incense?” she sneered. “Then no one will!”

My heart nearly stopped.

“No!”

The urn slipped from her hands.

A sharp crack rang out as it hit the ground—then silence.

Ash scattered in the air like dust in sunlight.

Gasps filled the hall.

I dropped to my knees, trying to gather what was left of my mother. My hands trembled. My eyes burned, but I forced the tears back.

Behind me, Ivy had gone mad—knocking over the mourning table, shattering vases, tearing down the wreaths. The funeral was ruined.

I gathered what ashes I could, placed them on a cloth, and walked out of the hall.

Dominic caught up with me.

“Ivy just has a bad temper… she couldn’t handle everyone blaming her,” he said quietly. “She went too far this time—I’ll take care of the funeral arrangements, don’t worry.”

His words made me sick.

I glanced at his hand gripping my arm.

“There’s no need.”

I pushed him away gently, my voice drained of emotion. I had no energy left to argue.

Dominic stared at his empty hand, stunned.

I hadn’t even made it down the steps when my phone rang.

“Ms. Shaw,” the nurse said urgently. “Your father’s oxygen tube was pulled out…”

Her words hit me like thunder.

I rushed to the hospital, clutching the bundle of ashes on my chest.

But when I arrived, his body was already covered with a white sheet.

“Who did this?!” I screamed. “Who got into his room?! I hired new guards, new nurses—how did this happen?!”

The head nurse knelt on the floor, trembling.

“It was Miss Mercer… she said your father was wasting hospital resources, and… the board agreed to stop treatment.”

“She has shares in this hospital… no one dared to say no.”

My vision blurred with rage.

“Stop fighting with her,” the nurse whispered. “Please, Miss Shaw. You’ll only make things worse.”

I couldn’t hear another word.

All I could see was Ivy’s smug face at the funeral. Her tantrum. Her hand destroys everything my mother had left behind.

I hailed a taxi and went straight home.

Before I even reached the door of the villa, I could hear laughter—music, people celebrating.

Then came her voice, loud and unfiltered:

“If Elena’s dad hadn’t saved my uncle, do you really think he’d ever have married her?”

“I will never let my uncle marry anyone but me!”

Ivy’s shrill voice pierced the air, her words cutting like knives.

“My mother died the first time he tried to marry, and my father died the second. Let’s see if Elena Shaw even dares to try a third time!”

Her arrogant voice echoed in my mind, again and again, like a cursed melody I couldn’t silence.

Something in me snapped.

I kicked open the villa door and slammed my hand on the speaker, cutting the music mid-beat. The room froze.

Without hesitation, I turned and slapped Ivy hard across the face.

Her head whipped to the side. Shock filled her wide eyes. Her hand flew to her cheek, red and swelling.

“You hit me?!” she shrieked. “No one has ever dared to hit me!”

She screamed for help, and within seconds, several people rushed in, grabbing my arms and forcing me to the ground.

“You think you can act like this just because your parents died?” Ivy sneered, towering over me. “You think you’re special?”

Her high heel slammed down on the back of my hand.

Pain exploded through my arm, and I screamed.

“I already killed your mother. I pulled out your father’s oxygen tube. And if I want, I can kill you too.”

“To people like me, your life means nothing.”

Someone turned the music back on. The party resumed like nothing had happened.

And then it got worse.

Ivy and her friends began kicking me—again and again. Someone dragged a knife across my arm, shallow but deliberate. Blood streamed down, and Ivy laughed, eyes bright with cruelty.

“You’ll pay for this,” I hissed through gritted teeth, rage blinding my pain. “Ivy, you will pay.”

She tilted her head, smirking.

“Pay?”

She turned to the others. “Tie her up.”

They dragged me to a small storage room, bound me, and taped my mouth shut.

Before leaving, Ivy crouched in front of me and smiled. “Open your eyes, Elena. You’ll see who really pays the price.”

I struggled against the restraints, fury pounding in my chest. Just then, the door creaked open.

Dominic stepped inside.

He looked at Ivy, then frowned. “What happened to your face?”

She didn’t answer directly. Instead, she glanced toward the cubicle where I was hidden. Her lips curled into a wicked smile.

“You always think I’m causing trouble.”

“Come on, let’s end the party. When Elena comes back, she’ll be upset again,” she said sweetly.

Dominic chuckled and flicked her nose affectionately. “You always make such a fuss.”

“Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

Ivy clung to his waist, white fingers tightening around him. “Uncle…”

He gave in easily. “I’ll take you somewhere.”

I could barely breathe as the door opened. From where I was hidden, I saw it all.

Dominic pinned Ivy against the wall.

His voice—low, tender, full of desire—was nothing like the cold tones he used with me.

“Ivy… you shouldn’t tempt me like this.”

“You know we can never be together, not publicly.”

My nails dug into my palms.

Eight years.

In eight years, the only time Dominic and I had slept together, he was drunk. And I had initiated it. I thought he was simply dispassionate. That he didn’t care for sex.

But now I knew the truth: he just didn’t want me.

“I know,” Ivy whispered. “That’s why I’ll always be your little pet.”

She pulled him into a kiss. Their bodies pressed together. Hands roamed. The moans, the way they touched each other—it was more than betrayal. It was humiliation.

And I watched it all.

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. The pain in my body was nothing compared to this.

Later, as they lay tangled on the couch, Ivy rested her head on his chest, her voice syrupy and smug.

“Uncle… I pulled out Elena’s father’s oxygen tube.”

For a moment, I held my breath, waiting.

Waiting for him to react.

To show even the smallest shred of outrage.

But all Dominic did was sigh and kiss her forehead.

“You really love causing trouble, don’t you?”