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.

Outside the church, Caleb walked me to the car.

But he kept checking his phone until a message appeared.

Panic flickered across his face before he quickly masked it with a serious expression.

“Baby, something happened to a friend. I need to go take care of it.”

He kissed my forehead apologetically.

“I’m sorry. Go home and get some rest. Tomorrow’s our wedding day. I haven’t seen you in your dress yet. I’ve prepared a surprise—you’ll love it.”

I turned my head slightly and nodded. “Okay, go. I’ll wait for you to pick me up tomorrow.”

He smiled, relieved, patted my hand gently, then got into another car and drove off.

I closed my eyes, trying to calm the storm inside me.

Moments later, a notification lit up my phone.

It was a video by Elena.

In it, she was wearing the wedding dress I had ordered.

On her finger was the massive diamond ring that Caleb had custom-made for me.

Caleb gently stroked her hair, eyes full of tenderness.

“Why are you so foolish?” he said. “You shielded her from that wooden plank. What if you'd been hurt?”

“I didn’t do it for her,” Elena replied. “I did it for you. She’s your wife. It’s the least I could do.”

His eyes wavered slightly, then his hand slipped to the bottom of her back.

“Elena, after today, you can finally relax. I’m sure what happened at the banquet has already spread throughout town. Elena will be branded a whore forever. She’ll never be a threat to your place in Caleb’s heart again.”

“Caleb, thank you for thinking of me,” she whispered sweetly. “But it’s not fair to you. You’re so powerful, yet you’re forced to marry someone like her…”

“I don’t need anything in return,” he said hoarsely. His eyes darkened with lust.

“Let me be your bride today, just for a day,” she offered.

“No, Elena,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “I want this. Elena... She means nothing. What matters is your happiness. I’ll do anything for that.”

The video ended, but I had no time to breathe.

Another one followed.

“I can only be with her at night when the lights are off, pretending she’s you,” Caleb’s voice moaned. “Elena, my good Elena, come to your brother…”

The driver chuckled from the front seat.

Alarmed, I looked up and noticed the route outside the window was unfamiliar—not heading home, nor to the hospital.

“You won’t be needing a hospital,” he said with a smirk. “Miss Elena has something else planned for you.”

The car stopped abruptly. I flung the door open, only to be overwhelmed by a sharp perfume.

It was Elena.

Gone was her polite facade. She yanked my collar, dragging me out of the car and onto the pavement.

She kicked my face hard, laughing like a madwoman.

“Oh, Elena. You’re filth now—inside and out. Didn’t you and your precious pastor mother always look down on me? Well, now even the street beggars look down on you. How does that feel?”

“I don’t know what spell you cast, but the two Turner brothers were obsessed with you. But look—one trick from me and they both dumped you like garbage!”

She sneered, stepping harder.

“Especially Caleb. Do you really think being pregnant will tie him to you? Do you think you’ll become his beloved wife again with a second ceremony?”

She leaned closer.

“Your wedding dress? Your ring? They’re mine now—secondhand. But I suppose it doesn’t matter. You’re used goods too. Or should I say, nearly third-hand?”

She tilted her head, smirking.

“By the way, I had Caleb keep the guy who slept with you. Maybe tomorrow I’ll join your wedding and let him continue the show—in front of Jesus.”

My mind spun, rage surging in my chest.

She had stolen from my family, and my mother had forgiven her. Not only that—she supported her for ten years, treating her like a foster daughter.

Strict as she may have been, we gave her everything. And was this her repayment?

She wanted me to see it all—just to crush any sympathy Caleb might still have for me now that I was pregnant.

Enraged, I roared and lunged at her.

But before I could reach her, the driver kicked me down. I crashed to the ground, scraping my arm on broken concrete.

Elena shrieked and stumbled back—untouched, unhurt.

Just then, Caleb came running.

But instead of looking at me, he darted straight to her.

He stepped on my hand without even noticing and wrapped his arms around Elena, his voice trembling.

“Elena, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

His face—etched with worry.

His arms—protecting her, not me.

His eyes—never once looking back.