I never married, yet I followed Peter Griffin for ten years.

He finally secured his position as the head of the Griffin Family and that night, he sent me an exquisitely crafted blueberry cheese cake to celebrate.

After escaping danger, I lay in the hospital bed, disheartened. With indifference, I pulled out my phone and broke up with Peter, "Peter, let me go."

The call came quickly, but it was his young fiancée on the line, "Hillary, I'm sorry, I picked the wrong cake. I didn't know you were allergic to cheese. If you want to blame someone, blame me, but don't be mad at Peter." Her tone was cold, without a trace of guilt.

Peter's impatient voice followed, "It's not your fault, no need to apologize. She throws a tantrum every few days. Hang up and ignore her."

——

The celebratory banquet lasted three days and nights and Peter spent the next two days at his young fiancée's house to meet her parents. So, it was five days later when he finally came home.

By then, the allergic reaction that had left me covered in red welts had subsided and I appeared no different than usual.

"Make me a cup of hangover tea. I've had too much to drink these past few days," he said, tossing his suit jacket carelessly by the door and loosening his tie with one finger as he collapsed onto the sofa with his eyes closed.

I sat curled up in the corner of the sofa, holding Timmy, who had eaten and was now licking his fur in my arms. I didn't move, idly fiddling with a mobile game on my phone.

After waiting for a while, Peter opened his eyes and glanced at me, letting out a long, silent sigh.

Weary and frustrated, he pulled a cosmetics gift box from his briefcase and said, "Stop causing trouble. You're fine now, aren't you? This is your compensation."

The unfamiliar brand and the words 'anti-aging' in large print pierced my heart. In the past, he would do his homework before choosing a gift for me, asking about my preferences in a roundabout way.

He even took time to consult professionals for advice, fearing that I would not like the gift he gave me.

But now, he couldn't even be bothered to take a second look. I glanced at it briefly and then turned my gaze away.

"What? You don't like it?" His voice was tinged with suppressed anger and I could see the impatience in his eyes.

He continued, "Jewelry is too flashy for you, clothes and bags you don't wear, but you still use skincare products, don't you? Why can't you just be content? Stop looking so miserable all the time!"

I turned off my phone, not wanting to waste any more words on him and said, "Peter, aren't you tired? I'm tired too. Give me back my ID card and let me go."

Peter clenched his jaw and ignored me.

"Peter, give me my ID card!" I shouted.

He slammed the skincare products down on the coffee table and yelled, "Not this again! Can you stop being so difficult and just be reasonable for once?"

He continued, "I've worked so hard to secure my position in the Griffin Family with the help of Claire's family. Marrying you is just postponed, I won't go back on my word. Besides constantly pushing me to marry you, what else can you do?"

I didn't know when it started, but Peter had convinced himself that all my so-called tantrums were simply to force him into marriage.

But his engagement to Claire was a done deal, publicly announced and heavily reported by the media. Yet, he still claimed he'd marry me.

But right now, I had no desire to marry him at all!

A wave of bitterness surged up in my chest and tears began to well up uncontrollably. I took a deep breath, barely managing to suppress them.

Seeing me stay silent for so long, he assumed, as always, that I had calmed down. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sat back down on the sofa and said, "Why didn't you go see Joshua the day before yesterday? My mother was furious about it. How can you, as his mother, be so indifferent? How do you have the nerve to complain that he's not close to you?"

Joshua was my son, now he was three years old, but I had barely been in his life. Since the moment he was in my womb, he became the tool the Griffin Family used to control my life.

"Claire and I were so busy these past two days, yet we both made time to visit Joshua. She even brought him his favorite toys. So, what kind of mother are you?" Peter mocked me.

The day before yesterday had been the middle of the month, the only day I was allowed to see Joshua.

The doctor had wanted me to stay in the hospital for further observation, but I had insisted on being discharged.

After dragging my weak body through the discharge process, I rushed to the Griffin Manor, only to be stopped at the door by the butler. He said the time had passed and that Peter's grandmother was having dinner with Joshua, Peter and Claire.

Through the half-open door, I saw Peter smiling as he gently blew on a bowl of soup and handed it to Claire. We had fought countless times over Joshua and Claire and it had drained all my energy. I was truly exhausted.

I smiled bitterly and looked at him, my voice unnervingly calm when I shouted, "Peter, I'm pregnant! If I give birth, will I be allowed to raise this child myself?"

The tight frown on his face seemed to relax for a moment and I thought I saw a flicker of joy, but as my words sank in, his frown deepened again. He didn't speak, but I already knew the answer.

I laughed and said, "A child without a mother, no matter how well they're provided for, is still unfortunate. Luckily, due to my allergic reaction, I briefly went into shock. The baby ... the baby is gone."

It was laughable, really. The man who kept saying he'd marry me hasn't even shared a bed with me for the past six months.

Two months ago, he successfully took down his eldest aunt, the person in the company who had been suppressing him the hardest and was overjoyed. That night, while he drunk, he forced me onto the bed.

When I found out the baby was gone, I didn't feel sad or heartbroken. Instead, I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

Peter stood there stiffly, frozen in place for a long time before finally unclenching his fists and said, "Gone is gone. It's not like you'd be a good mother anyway." He yanked off his tie and headed toward the bathroom.

The sound of running water echoed as my tears, no longer under control, poured down like a flood. How did things end up like this? We used to be so happy and in love.

We had been together for four years in college and he was so low-key he was almost invisible. After graduation, we lived together in a cramped ten-square-meter apartment in the city's outskirts. We did everything together, cooked, cleaned and shared every small chore. Our world was filled with nothing but each other.

Even at work, we'd bring homemade lunches to save on takeout costs and by the end of the month, we'd use the money we saved to splurge on a meal or enjoy a fun day out. We lived frugally, counting every penny, but we were exceptionally happy.

That's how we spent the first two years. Then, one day, Peter surprised me with an extremely expensive necklace. It was said to be worth nearly thirty thousand.

I was terrified. I cried, saying that we were saving for a wedding and a house and couldn't afford such luxuries.

But he just laughed mischievously, pulling me into his arms and said I had passed his test and that he wanted to take me home to meet his parents.

I was confused, not understanding what kind of test he meant. But I was happy. Meeting his parents meant we were close to getting married, so I shared my own piece of good news, I was pregnant.

The next day, however, tragedy struck. His father had an accident and passed away after unsuccessful resuscitation. It was then that I found out Peter was the eldest grandson of the famous Griffin Family conglomerate.

After his father's sudden death, his eldest aunt not only transferred her shares to her husband but also seized the opportunity to take control of the company, rallying supporters to try and wrest the Griffin Family business from them.

Suddenly, Peter had to shoulder the burden of the entire Griffin Family, leaving no time for him to return to the small home we had once shared.

His mother, mourning the loss of her husband, summoned me privately and firmly demanded that I should leave Peter.

Given the severe circumstances at the time, the only way to regain control of the situation was through a marriage alliance with the Aston Family, long-time family friends. The chosen bride was Claire Aston.

Mrs. Griffin, didn't wanting Claire to misunderstand, had no choice but to drove me away. From every angle, it was clear that I, a girl from a small, powerless town, couldn't help Peter. I would only drag him down by requiring his care.

I loved Peter, loved him down to my bones. I didn't want to leave him. I couldn't even fathom how I'd live without him. But if I stayed, I'd have to watch him marry another woman and that would be even more unbearable than death.

I never imagined that the kind of dramatic plotlines seen on TV would happen to me. It felt like I was trapped in a dream.

Before I had a chance to respond to Mrs. Griffin's ultimatum, she had already made her move. First, I was fired from my job under false accusations of causing a major loss to the company.

Then, my landlord suddenly asked me to move out, claiming that he had sold the apartment and was willing to compensate me three times my deposit.

Suddenly, two men grabbed me, trying to kidnapped me away.

Terrified, I screamed for help in the cramped hallway and when neighbors came out to see what was happening, I broke free and escaped. But every hotel and inn refused to accept me.

Hiding under a bridge, I called Peter, but he didn't answer. I sent him messages. For two days, I evaded capture, but they eventually found me. They injected me with something, making me lose consciousness. When I woke up, I was being wheeled to the airport.

Just as I was about to be forced onto a plane, Peter arrived, stopping them. He stood there, blocking my path, tears streaming down my face, I was helpless and unable to move.

Because I was pregnant with Peter's child, his mother agreed to let me stay, for now. The condition was that after the child was born, she would take over the child's upbringing.

Peter also promised me that once he regained full control of the Griffin Group, he would marry me. I didn't know how he communicated this to Claire, but she surprisingly accepted my presence.

However, after the child was born, I finally understood what Mrs. Griffin meant by 'taking over the child's upbringing', it meant completely stripping me of my rights as a mother.

She took the child away, leaving me, weak and exhausted after giving birth. I still vividly remember the cruel words she said as she left, "You're lucky to have borne Peter's child, it's a fortune you've accumulated over your lifetimes. But I can't allow a Griffin Family child to live with a useless and worthless mother like you. Every word and action of yours disgraces the Griffin Family's bloodline."

From that day on, I was only allowed to visit my child at the Griffin Manor on the fifteenth of each month, while Claire could see him anytime.

I fought with Peter, argued and asked him when he would return our child to me.

But at that time, he was too overwhelmed with the company to pay much attention to me. He grew increasingly impatient with me.

He blamed me for not understanding him, I blamed him for not standing up to his mother. The tenderness and love we once shared had turned into poisoned arrows that we shot at each other, one after the other.

I couldn't bear the torment of being separated from my child. On one of my visits, I seized the opportunity when no one was paying attention and took my son, Joshua, trying to escape to the train station.

I knew no one could help me anymore. I had to rely on myself. I needed to leave this place, to leave Peter. But before I reached the train station, I was intercepted. The Griffin Family's butler came and took Joshua away again.

Peter, filled with rage, dragged me out of the taxi and slapped me hard across the face.

"Handling the company's affairs has already drained me. Can't you be more sensible and stop causing me more trouble?" he shouted at me. "I promised I'd marry you. Can't you wait? Do you really have to pull stunts like this to force my hand?" he continued.

But I had never once pushed him to marry me. It was after that incident that he confiscated my ID card and refused to give it back, no matter what I said.

He probably realized deep down that he owed me, that I truly wanted to leave, but he just couldn't admit it to himself.

Later, whenever I tried to replace my ID card, he would seize it again. Once, he even told the office staff, in front of me, that he'd keep my ID safe and that I wouldn't need to apply for another one in the future.

I developed severe depression and separation anxiety, often relying on medication to keep myself stable. The doctor suggested I get a pet, so I bought Timmy that very day.

The sound of water from the bathroom stopped. I turned and headed to the guest room. Alas, I still couldn't get my ID back.

He thought that by holding onto my ID, I have nowhere to go. But this time, I wouldn't let that stopped me.