I didn't say a word. I just nodded, then handed him the divorce agreement.

Tristram took it and stared at my signature on the consent line. For a moment, he looked stunned.

He hadn't expected me to agree so easily. Something unnamed tightened in his chest.

“Don't worry. I already talked it over with Lois. Once the baby's on the birth certificate, she and I will divorce.”

“Then you and I can remarry.”

“Whatever you say.”

My voice was flat. I held my mother's memorial portrait against my chest and turned toward the bedroom.

“Wait.”

Tristram stopped me. I paused and looked back, confused.

“Lois is in that room now.”

“What?”

The word slipped out before I could stop it.

Tristram frowned, visibly annoyed：

“That room gets the best sunlight and the best airflow. Lois is pregnant, Claudia. You should have enough sense to figure this out on your own.”

I glanced at Lois. She let out a soft laugh：

“Oh, I told him it wasn't necessary, but Mr. Stephens insisted I move in there.”

“But I suppose there's no helping it. After all, I am carrying his first child. One has to be careful, wouldn't you agree, Claudia?”

Even though I was already done with Tristram, Lois's words cut straight through me.

My hand drifted to my hollow stomach. My eyes burned.

“Oh, and the housekeeper's been on leave. Since you already have experience taking care of your mother, I figured there was no need to hire anyone new. You can handle Lois's daily needs while you're here.”

Tristram said this as he stood, one arm around Lois's waist.

Lois stroked her belly, smiling with undisguised satisfaction：

“I'll be counting on you, then. Sorry for the trouble, Claudia.”

I lowered my gaze and drew a long, slow breath.

It was fine. I just had to get through this. Once it was over, everything would be over. I repeated it to myself like a prayer.

“Fine.”

I forced the corners of my mouth upward and agreed.

Tristram looked at me with a flicker of surprise, but it vanished quickly, replaced by that polished smile of his.

“Claudia, you're smarter than I gave you credit for. You know I'm the only one you have left, so you do as you're told.”

He was so confident that my obedience came from having no one else to turn to.

He had no idea I already had plans of my own.

I didn't argue. I just turned and walked toward the guest room.

Tristram watched me go, and something hollow settled in his chest that he couldn't quite name.

He wanted to ask if I'd eaten. The words never made it past his lips.

He yanked at his tie, irritated. Beside him, Lois pressed close and pouted：

“Honey, once I have the baby, you really won't want me anymore?”

Tristram looked at her, all heavy-lidded eyes and soft provocation, and pulled her in by the waist：

“Don't be ridiculous. She's a woman who can't even bear children. How could she ever compare to you, you little temptress?”

“I only keep her around because I owe her mother. Think of it as getting you a free maid. Doesn't that make you happy?”

A flash of jealousy cut through Lois's eyes, but she buried it fast and slipped back into that coy, flirtatious mask：

“Of course I'm happy. I always knew my husband was the best.”

She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

That was all it took. Tristram swept her up into his arms and carried her toward the bedroom.

That night, I lay in the guest room listening to the sounds seeping through the wall, and I pulled the blanket tight around myself.

But those sounds had a way of cutting through fabric, through walls, straight into my chest.

I couldn't breathe. I threw the blanket off, grabbed my phone, and sent a message to a number saved without a name：

“How much longer?”

The reply came almost immediately：

“One week.”

I stared at the message. A moment later, a low, heavy groan came from Tristram's room next door, and the sounds finally stopped.

I lay staring at the ceiling, but sleep never came.

The next morning, I was wiping the dust from my mother's memorial portrait when a sharp, impatient knock broke the silence.

The moment I opened the door, Lois was standing there, chin lifted, looking down at me：

“Oh, Claudia, do you have any idea what time it is? Shouldn't you be making breakfast?”

She leaned in, a cold smirk curling at the corner of her mouth：

“Don't forget. You're my maid now.”

I didn't want to argue. I turned back into the room and set my mother's portrait carefully on the table：

“I'll be there in a minute.”

Lois swayed inside, her gaze landing on the portrait. Her lip curled in open disgust：

“You're keeping a dead woman's photo in here? That's terrible luck. It's depressing just looking at it. Bad for my baby's development.”

“Cover it up.”

“You can look away.”

I didn't look at her. I just straightened the portrait with care, my voice flat and cold.

“You……”

Lois's face flushed red. Something vicious flickered behind her eyes.

She drifted closer, as if by accident, then swept her hand across the table and knocked my mother's portrait to the floor.

I scrambled to pick it up, but her foot came down on it first. She clapped a hand over her mouth, feigning shock：

“Oh no, Claudia, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to.”

My mother's gentle face, pinned under Lois's heel. The rage I'd been holding down broke loose.

I shot to my feet and slapped her across the face. The force of it sent her stumbling. She caught the edge of the table to keep from falling.

I grabbed her by the collar and was about to hit her again when someone seized my arm from behind.

“Claudia, are you looking to die?”

Tristram's voice cut through the room, sharp with fury.

He wrenched my arm and flung me aside.

“Have you lost your mind?”

My eyes were bloodshot. I pointed at Lois：

“She threw my mother's portrait on the ground and stomped on it.”

Tristram glanced at Lois. Instantly, she burst into tears and threw herself into his arms：

“I just wanted to move your mother's portrait to the living room. The spot out there is so much better.”

“But the second I picked it up, she came at me like a maniac.”

“I only stepped on it because she scared me. It was an accident. I swear.”

“You're lying. You……”

Before I could finish, Tristram's foot slammed into my leg.

My knees cracked against the floor.

“You're just jealous that Lois is pregnant, so you're picking fights over nothing.”

“Apologize to her.”

I looked up at him, every word measured：

“I didn't do anything wrong. I won't apologize.”

Something shifted in Tristram's eyes as he stared down at my stubborn, unyielding face. For a fraction of a second, he seemed to falter, as though some buried memory had surfaced.

But the next second, Lois spoke again.

“Honey, it's fine if I'm the one being bullied. But our baby hasn't even been born yet, and already someone's treating him like this. My heart breaks for him.”

She cradled her belly, whimpering softly.

The flicker of hesitation in Tristram's eyes vanished. In its place was something brutal.

He raised his foot and brought it down, grinding it into my hand：

“Apologize to Lois.”

Pain ripped through my entire body. I shook from head to toe, but I clenched my jaw shut and didn't make a sound.

Tristram let out a cold laugh and lifted his foot.

I was about to breathe when he walked over to my mother's portrait.

He looked at me, eyes full of contempt.

The instant he raised his foot, I threw myself across the floor, shielding the portrait with my body：

“I was wrong. I'm sorry. I won't do it again.”

Tristram smiled, satisfied. He turned, scooped Lois into his arms, and carried her toward the door：

“Next time you upset Lois, I won't let you off this easy.”

Tristram finished speaking, then left with Lois in his arms. Not a shred of hesitation.

I sat on the floor, clutching my mother's memorial portrait, eyes squeezed shut.

“Mom, I'm sorry. I couldn't protect you. Your daughter is useless.”

“Just hold on a little longer. We're leaving this place soon.”

Two days later, Tristram and I signed the divorce papers.

Five days after that, he was set to marry Lois.

Those few days, Lois was busy with dress fittings and venue selections, so she didn't have time to bother me.

I used the window to get everything in order for what came next.

The night before Tristram and Lois's wedding, I sent a message to that person：

“Tomorrow. On schedule.”

The reply came instantly：

“OK.”

I got up to close the door, only to find Lois standing in the doorway. I had no idea how long she'd been there.

She looked at me with open mockery：

“Claudia, you really are pathetic. Your husband already has a child with another woman, and you're still clinging to this place like a parasite, making everyone sick.”

I stared back at her, my gaze ice-cold：

“You're one to talk. You knew he was married and still threw yourself at him without a shred of shame.”

She was about to snap back, but something crossed her mind and she smiled instead：

“Hmph. What do you have to be so proud of, Claudia?”

She leaned in close to my ear. I moved to push her away, but the words that left her mouth froze me where I stood.

“You think losing your uterus during that last miscarriage was an accident?”

“Tristram arranged the whole thing. He never loved you. In his eyes, you were nothing but a tool to satisfy his needs.”

She watched the color drain from my face, smiled with satisfaction, and left.

I gasped for air, my legs giving out beneath me as I collapsed to the floor.

My hand drifted to my lower abdomen without thinking.

So that was how it happened.

A simple abortion procedure. How could it possibly have been severe enough to remove a uterus?

Of course. Of course that was it.

Tears fell silently. The pain in my chest was so sharp I couldn't breathe.

“Tristram, how could you be so heartless.”

Early the next morning, Tristram stood in a crisp suit, ready to head out with his groomsmen to pick up the bride.

Before leaving, he pushed open my bedroom door：

“Claudia, this is all just for show. In my heart, you'll always be the one I love most.”

“Be a good girl and stay home these next few days. Once Lois and I are back from the honeymoon, I'll make it up to you.”

I looked at him, dressed exactly the way he'd been the day he came to marry me five years ago. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and nodded.

He left, satisfied.

I stood by the window watching him get into the wedding car. The warmth in my eyes bled away, degree by degree.

Half an hour later, a black car pulled up in front of the villa.

I walked out holding my mother's memorial portrait. A man in black stepped out of the car and opened the door for me.

After I got in, I took one last look at the villa and parted my lips：

“Tristram. Until we meet again.”