At my mother’s honorary retirement ceremony, a high-definition video of me being kidnapped and abused suddenly played on the big screen meant to showcase church activities.

The heart-wrenching footage and my screams shattered the warm, celebratory atmosphere in an instant.

My mother, a respected pastor, couldn’t bear the shock. The pain of witnessing my torment, combined with the emotional weight of the moment, caused her heart to give out—she collapsed and died on the spot.

My father, filled with grief and fury, set out to demand justice for me from those who had harmed me. But on the way, he died in a tragic car accident.

As if that wasn’t cruel enough, my fiancé, right there at the ceremony, revoked our engagement. Without hesitation, he turned and chose to marry the poor student my mother had been financially supporting for years.

One blow after another left me broken. Overwhelmed by shame, grief, and betrayal, I collapsed emotionally. I wandered to the edge of a cliff and prepared to end my life by throwing myself into the sea.

But then, like a sudden storm, my fiancé’s older brother—Caleb Turner, a feared underworld boss—appeared and saved me. He didn’t hesitate to shoot the people who had mocked me and made me feel worthless. Right then, he knelt before me and proposed.

He said he didn’t see me as dirty. That night, after I said yes, he held me close and loved me like I was the only one in the world.

To help me heal, he left his criminal operations behind and took me on a long vacation, hoping to pull me out of the darkness I was drowning in.

One morning, I held a pregnancy test in my hands, heart full of excitement. I planned to surprise him with the news. But before I could, I overheard a conversation that shattered everything I believed.

The man who had abused me was groveling before Caleb.

"Boss, you really pulled it off. Releasing that kidnapping video during the ceremony—what a brilliant move. That way, Miss Elena got exactly what she wanted.

It's just too bad that you had to marry that tramp to make it happen. Was it really worth it, all for Elena?"

"For Elena’s happiness, it’s worth it," Caleb answered calmly.

Another voice chimed in with a perverse laugh: “I heard you sent your sex video with Elena Song to your brother. He burned everything she gave him out of rage.”

"Only by using both pain and betrayal could we make Caleb give up completely,” someone said. “Now, he’ll finally settle down with Elena.”

So, the rescue I believed had saved me… was a trap. My so-called salvation was the start of another level of hell.

I wiped away my tears and called the number I had buried deep in my phone, untouched for months.

Laughter and drunken chatter echoed through the door.

"Boss, that was genius. Switching her antidepressants with abortion pills? Now she’s getting worse and can’t ever have kids. That’s a two-for-one kill, man!"

Another voice sneered. “She acts like she’s the boss’s real wife or something, always bringing food to the guys and trying to protect them. Always asking who’s filming around her—so annoying.”

A man chuckled darkly, "Why didn’t I get picked? Elena’s body… damn, I still think about it. She’s hot."

“She tasted amazing. If I get another chance, I’ll definitely go again,” the one who had violated me laughed crudely.

With a loud crash, a wine bottle shattered on his head, and blood immediately poured down.

The room fell silent as he dropped to his knees, clutching his head.

Caleb's voice cut through the tension:

“I’ll say this one last time. Elena is my wife. Anyone who dares bring up the past again—I won’t let it slide.”

“Sorry, boss! We thought you didn’t actually care about her. But she’s totally in love with you. What if one day she finds out the truth—that you planned everything…”

The teasing grew louder, but Caleb's gaze turned icy. “Shut up.”

“Keep your mouths shut. If she hears any of this and gets upset, I swear I’ll make each of you pay for it.”

“After tomorrow’s job, I’ll give you all some money. Lay low somewhere far away. Don’t come back until the dust settles.”

The laughter resumed, but to me, it sounded like the sea pulling me into a whirlpool.

Footsteps approached, and I forced my trembling legs to move, slipping away quietly.

But inside my mind, their cruel words and Caleb’s expression played over and over like a nightmare, stabbing into every nerve.

A week before our supposed wedding, I was kidnapped and tortured—trapped in a nightmare that lasted from dusk to dawn.

But after I was rescued, Caleb, my fiancé at the time, held my hands and swore he would never leave me. That he’d chosen me for life.

He was the light I clung to as I tried to forget what had happened and build a future.

Then the video was played—publicly. My parents died one after another.

Caleb left me without hesitation. I became a public disgrace, a shameful woman whispered about in every corner of town.

It was Caleb who saved me from the edge. He appeared when I had lost everything, shielding me from judgment and humiliation.

He said he’d loved me at first sight, and that I was the only woman he’d ever want.

I didn’t believe in love anymore. My soul was shattered.

But he stayed by my side, never giving up, even when I rejected him repeatedly.

He even risked his life in a dangerous underground car race to protect my family’s remaining assets. After nearly dying, he offered me the house keys, eyes sparkling with hope.

Now, with that truth in my hands—the betrayal, the setup, the lies—I stood at the edge again.

This time, I wouldn’t fall.

This time, I would burn everything to the ground.

In that moment, despite everything, something stirred in my dead heart.

Even after we got together, Caleb’s affection never seemed to fade.

He washed my feet, trimmed my nails, and patiently soothed me when depression took over.

Little by little, the pieces of my shattered heart began to come back together.

I never imagined that his tenderness over the past two years was all an illusion.

Every kind gesture, every whispered word of love—just carefully laid stepping stones for Elena’s happiness.

No wonder she looked at me so strangely that day at my mother’s retirement ceremony.

She was laughing at me—mocking my naivety—while basking in the triumph of having a man so desperate for her that he would stoop this low.

It was her who lured me out of town the day I was kidnapped. She played her part perfectly.

The sick joke? I mistook my abuser for a knight in shining armor.

I even secretly poured out my birth control pills and tried to get pregnant—just to surprise him.

Because he once whispered, “Baby, I want a child that belongs to both of us.”

Now I stroked my still-flat belly, flooded with pain and hatred, sobbing uncontrollably.

As I stepped into the parking lot, a pair of hands lunged out of the darkness, clamping down on my mouth and yanking me into a shadowy corner.

“You little slut,” a voice snarled in my ear. “You dressed up just to seduce me again, didn’t you? Couldn’t stop thinking about your dear brother?”

That voice—I would recognize it even in hell.

It was him.

The man who had raped me.

My nightmare, night after night.

I fought with everything I had, but that only seemed to excite him more.

He shoved me against the wall, pinning me in place, cutting off my air. My vision blurred as I gasped.

“Don’t be scared, baby,” he whispered, his tone sickeningly tender. “Let your brother take care of you.”

“You’re such a tease. One look at you and I can’t control myself...”

He tore open my blouse, buttons scattering.

My body curled instinctively, desperate to escape his hands.

But they roamed without mercy, sliding over my lower back. Every touch made my skin crawl.

I squeezed my eyes shut in despair.

I really thought I would die there.

Suddenly, he was yanked away with brutal force.

“You want to die, don’t you? How dare you follow me here!”

That voice—I knew it.

Caleb strode out of the shadows and kicked the man hard in the chest.

Then he draped his coat over me, his fingers brushing away my tears.

Softly, he reassured me, then turned back to the man, pulling out a pistol and leveling it at his head.

“Which hand did you touch her with?” His voice was seething, rage practically radiating off him.

His men exchanged uneasy glances, as if preparing to intervene.

But Caleb didn’t wait. He fired.

The man’s hand exploded in blood.

“AHHH—!”

He screamed and writhed, consumed by agony.

As I looked at Caleb’s furious expression, I couldn’t stop trembling.

Then he turned and scooped me up, carrying me like I was something precious and breakable.

“You’re freezing. Did he hurt you? What did the hospital say today? Why’d you come find me by yourself?”

I forced several deep breaths before managing a dry, strained laugh.

“I’m fine. Let’s just go home.”

Yes, I’m carrying your child.

But I won’t let you know.

On the drive back, his phone buzzed.

I glanced over and saw the message:

[Boss, the guy’s at the hospital. We bandaged him and booked a room near the banquet hall.]

Caleb replied, “Give him another 200,000,” then slid the phone back in his pocket.

He kept talking to me sweetly, his concern looked as sincere as ever.

But a cold dread spread through my bones.

A chill that started in my spine and swallowed me whole.

Back at the house, he carried me in like nothing had happened.

I dragged myself to the bathroom, washing my body again and again.

But filth from two years ago still clung to me, deep in my blood and bones.

When the hot water suddenly ran out and cold water poured over me, I finally broke.

I collapsed in the shower, crying uncontrollably.

Afterward, feverish and shaking, I crawled into bed.

“Baby, why’s your skin so hot?” he murmured, slipping in behind me. “Let me take care of you.”

His hand slid along my waist to my thigh, fingers hooking under the hem of my nightdress, slowly pushing it upward.

The air chilled my bare skin. I tried to press my legs together.

But he forced them open with his knees.

“...Don’t.”

My voice cracked. Sobs rose in my throat, but his kiss muffled them.

He kissed me until I was breathless, then trailed down to my collarbone, his breath burning hot.

His body was cool against mine.

With my fever surging, it was like pressing against ice.

I clung to him—weak, dizzy, unable to resist.

We kissed, tangled, and lost ourselves in heat.

At the height of his passion, he moaned a name.

“Elena.”

I froze.

Just like that, clarity hit me like a slap.

It had never been me.

It was never me in his heart.

I tried to pull away, but he held me tighter.

What a joke.

From the very beginning, I was nothing but a body to him.

Just a tool to satisfy his desire.

I lay beside him all night, eyes wide open, face expressionless.

My heart grew colder with every passing minute.

The next morning, he prepared breakfast like he always did.

To take better care of my health, he had even studied cooking under a senior nutritionist.

While he was busy in the kitchen, I ran to the bathroom and vomited so hard my stomach cramped.

Tears fell uncontrollably, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the searing ache in my heart.

Once I recovered, I saw Caleb’s phone left unattended.

I tried unlocking it with Elena’s birthday—and it opened.

He had once told me he didn’t like taking photos, but there were over 6,000 in his album—every single one of Elena.

He organized them into four folders, each labeled with a single letter. Together, they spelled “LOVE.”

His devotion was chronicled in detail—Elena at every moment, every phase.

In their messages, I saw how he would always be with her on the nights he claimed to be too busy.

When she said she wanted to watch fireworks, this normally composed man spent the entire night buying and setting them off just to please her.

She wanted a warm, romantic breakfast, so this gangster—who once only knew violence—learned to cook for her.

When she wished to be a princess on her birthday, he risked his life stealing the royal sapphire crown.

I remembered that day vividly. He came back covered in blood, shot twice.

He nearly died.

It was I who brought my father’s only heirloom—the ancestral sky-high cross—to barter for his life from the royal family.

Through blurred tears, I saw another shocking message.

Caleb had written: “Thank you for saving me on the beach. Even though we can’t be together, I’ll always carry you in my heart.”

But it was I who saved him.

Five years ago, in Canada, while volunteering as a doctor without borders, I pulled him half-dead from the sea.

Saving lives was part of my duty. I never saw the need to bring it up.

So ,how did it become her?

Elena, who was terrified of death and never even went to Canada, somehow took credit for what I did.

Memories surged back, and a wild, absurd thought took root.

I collapsed, laughing and crying at the same time.

The sound startled Caleb. Thinking I was having a depressive episode, he rushed over to comfort me.

His voice was soft, his expression full of concern—just as always.

But his kindness stabbed deeper than any betrayal.

Just as I was about to speak, his phone rang.

I glanced at the screen. It was Elena.

He hesitated, then prepared to decline the call.

I wiped away my tears and said, “Answer it.”

On the line, she said, “Don’t worry, I’ll get rid of her tomorrow. After that, you’ll be completely free.”

I couldn’t hear the reply on the other end, but I saw Caleb’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, looking conflicted.

After hanging up, he gave me a good-morning kiss like nothing had changed, then handed me my breakfast.

“My brother’s in trouble. I have to go now. Eat something, okay?”

I nodded and watched him drive away.

Then I got in my car and followed him from a distance.

Eventually, his car pulled into the Turner family villa.

By the pool, Elena was splashing around in a bikini.

The moment she saw him, she threw herself into his arms with a dazzling smile.

I didn’t hear what he said, but something in him snapped.

He lifted her into his arms and kissed her passionately.

When they finally pulled apart, she leaned into him, breathless.

“Caleb,” she murmured, “Thank you for caring for me while Caleb was away. I should’ve said it sooner. You’ll marry her at church soon, but before that, I want to know you still have me in your heart.”

She took his hand and pressed it against her chest, feigning nervousness.

Caleb’s throat bobbed again, and he gripped her hand tightly, desire flickering in his eyes.

“Do you know how much I wish I could replace Caleb? But I can’t…”

Elena laughed softly, then spun and dove into the pool.

“The water’s cold in early autumn. I saved you from the sea once—your turn to rescue me.”

Without hesitation, Caleb jumped in after her.

For a long time, neither of them resurfaced.

I had long given up hope, but seeing it unfold in front of me still shattered my heart.

Tears streamed down my face as I clutched my chest and turned the car around.

I drove and drove, until I returned to the place I once called home.

Opening the door, everything inside seemed like mockery.

The wall still displayed my oil painting of Van Gogh’s Starry Night.

He had framed it in gold and told me mine looked more romantic than the original.

Our handmade pottery mugs—one blue, one pink—sat on the counter, still slightly misshapen but precious.

He always used the pink one, saying the color matched the water beautifully.

Now, all of it was just a monument to my own foolishness.

Rage bubbled up.

I began to destroy everything in sight.

I hurled vases, smashed trinkets, and shattered photo frames.

Shards of our past littered the floor as my tears poured freely.

I didn’t want any of it anymore.

After a long while, I wiped my face and pulled myself together.

Then I opened my phone and dialed a long-forgotten number buried deep in my contacts.

“I’ve got a job worth 100 million. You want it?”

“What kind of job?”

“Kidnap me in three days.”

My hand settled gently on my belly.

“Caleb will pay any price to get me back.”

Caleb didn’t return until the next day.

When he saw the mess inside the house, he immediately panicked, frantically searching for me.

He thought I had suffered another depressive episode. His eyes reddened with concern as he gently cupped my face.

“Wife, I wish I could take your pain for you. Are you feeling any better? Do you know what today is? It’s your parents’ farewell banquet.”

I curled up under the quilt, numb and indifferent.

“I’m not feeling well. Can I not go?”

He softened his tone even further.

“I know your parents would want to see you show up smiling, full of life. That’s how they’d like to be remembered—through you.”

I stared into his eyes. So sincere, so affectionate.

A look that once comforted me, now felt like poison. How many times had this man lied to my face?

“Alright. I’ll go.”

He exhaled discreetly, as though relieved that his mask hadn’t cracked. Then, putting on his usual loving act, he hugged me.

“It’s hard on you, I know. Just hold on a bit longer, once the farewell banquet is over…”

The banquet was large—attended by townspeople and those my father had helped during his lifetime.

And, of course, Elena was there too—the poor scholarship student my father had sponsored.

On the large screen in the banquet hall, a tribute video played showcasing my father’s life and legacy.

Just then, a familiar, sickly-sweet voice rang out.

“Elena!”

I froze.

Turning slowly, I faced Elena.

Her smile was delicate, refined—completely insincere.

“It’s been so long. You’re still just as beautiful,” she said smoothly, though her eyes swept over me like a predator sizing up a wounded prey.

She was dressed in a Chanel suit, with Cartier bracelets glinting on her wrist—clearly flaunting her new status.

This same woman once knelt at our door, begging my mother to sponsor her education.

Now she looked down at me like I was beneath her.

The women around us began to whisper, their voices laced with ridicule.

“Oh, she still dares to show her face here?”

“Elena is such a kind soul. She organized all of this for the pastor’s farewell. No wonder she’s marrying into the Turner family. Such grace.”

Elena’s eyes shimmered with satisfaction, though she quickly put on a serious expression.

“Alright, don’t say any more.”

Before I could even refuse, she hooked her arm in mine and led me toward the stage.

“Today is the pastor’s farewell banquet. Of course, his daughter should say a few words.”

I was dragged onto the stage, my mind foggy and disoriented.

And then it happened.

A man—the very one who had assaulted me—ran up onto the platform.

The tribute video of my father faded to black.

The screen flickered, and then—

A nightmare unfolded.

My humiliation played across the screen, uncensored and raw.

A recording of my violation, broadcast in full view.

As if that weren’t enough, a recording began to play from hidden speakers.

It was my mother’s voice.

“Remember, no matter what happens, a girl must never lose her dignity… You must always respect and love yourself…”

Her voice was gentle, kind—but in that moment, it cut deeper than any blade.

Shame, panic, grief—they surged like a tsunami, crashing over me.

I couldn’t breathe.

It felt like my soul was being torn from my body, leaving a hollow, lifeless shell.

I screamed. I needed to escape.

But before I could move, the man grabbed my arm and dropped to his knees in front of the crowd.

He started crying—fake, theatrical sobs.

“I’m sorry! I need to confess today. This woman—she seduced me!”

“She’s a slut! She seduced me and destroyed my life!”

I wanted to scream, to tell them it was a lie—that it was all a setup, a conspiracy.

But my voice caught in my throat.

No sound came out.

Chaos erupted in the hall.

The crowd roared.

Eggs, wilted vegetables, and rotting fruit rained down on me.

Shouts, curses, and condemnation filled the air.

“How could a pastor have such a daughter?”

“You’re a disgrace! You ruined your father’s retirement and now his farewell!”

“Your parents died because of you! Why are you still alive?”

A stick came flying through the air. It struck me hard, and I crumpled to the floor as blood trickled down.

“Elena, are you alright—?”

Caleb shoved people aside and sprinted toward me like a man possessed.

His face was twisted with worry—his eyes almost too convincing.

He cradled me in his arms, his warmth familiar but now repulsive.

“Ouch!”

Elena suddenly let out a cry and theatrically fell from the stage.

Caleb stroked my hair, tender as ever, like I was some fragile, wounded creature.

But his gaze had already shifted, locked onto Elena.

He stared at her—utterly unable to look away.

After a long, painful silence, he seemed to reach some inner conclusion.

He finally tore his eyes from her, then whispered hoarsely in my ear:

“I’m sorry, Elena. I shouldn’t have left you alone so long… I shouldn’t have let you come here… I failed to protect you.”

His tears were warm as they dripped onto my shoulder, but my heart was colder than ever.

His performance was flawless.

If I hadn’t seen the truth for myself, if I hadn’t heard it with my own ears—

I might have believed him again.

I might have fallen for that gentle illusion once more.