Daisy smiled sweetly and leaned into his arms, her voice soft and coy. “You know, every time I get close to you, I can feel Aurora’s blood flowing inside me… it’s such a strange feeling.”

Brian said nothing. He only held her tighter.

“Brian, you monster…”

I clenched my jaw until it hurt, my fingers digging into the wooden cabinet. Splinters pierced my skin, and drops of blood slowly seeped out.

Tears finally spilled down my face, blurring my vision.

I could hear their laughter, their gasps, their whispered moans outside the cabinet—

those same tones that once comforted me, now dripping with tenderness for another woman.

So this was what I had been all along—a cover-up, a convenient disguise for his shame.

His so-called “compassion,” “guilt,” “kindness”—all an act, a performance for the world to see.

This way, he could hold her near the hospital bed without guilt,

finding “redemption” in the arms of the woman who lived because of my blood.

They laughed together, breathed together, right there beside me.

The curtains were half drawn, the room dim, and my breath turned cold to the bone.

I didn’t know how long it lasted, but at last, silence returned.

The sound of a door closing made the air itself freeze.

I struggled to push open the cabinet door.

Cold air hit my face as I crawled out, leaning against the bed, gasping for breath.

Marks still circled my wrists and ankles, my skin bruised and raw.

“Brian… Daisy…”

My voice was hoarse, shaking. “I’ll make you both pay for this—every single debt.”

In the days before I was discharged, no one came to see me.

The doctor said my recovery was slow and I should stay a few more days, but the room was as silent as a tomb.

Brian never appeared again—not even a single word of concern.

I signed the discharge papers myself, my right hand swollen and bruised from too many IVs.

At the end of the corridor, the sunset cast a golden glow through the window.

Just then, I overheard two nurses whispering nearby.

“Look! Mr. Hudson posted new photos again—so romantic!”

“A hot-air-balloon proposal! Daisy’s so lucky!”

I lowered my head. On my phone screen, a notification flashed.

A collage of nine photos filled the feed.

Under the golden light, Brian was gently cupping Daisy’s face,

kissing her deeply on a hot-air balloon high above the city.

They were smiling so brightly, as if the whole world blessed their love.

The caption read:

“Forever my angel, forever my home.”

My fingers hovered over the comment box for a long moment before I typed one line.

【Wishing you a lifetime of love, and a healthy, safe child.】

Ten minutes later, my phone rang.

Brian’s familiar number flashed on the screen.

I stared at it, then swiped it away.

Half an hour later, I finished the discharge process.

Carrying my luggage, I walked alone toward the lobby.

As I passed the maternity ward, my steps faltered.

From the corner ahead, a familiar figure appeared—Brian.

He was holding Daisy, one hand around her waist and the other carrying her test results.

The young nurse at the reception desk smiled brightly. “Mrs. Hudson, your husband is so sweet. He comes with you every time and even warms the ultrasound gel so you won’t feel cold during the exam.”

The other pregnant women around her all looked on with envy.

My breath caught.

Instinctively, I touched my arm—the place where the needle had pierced, where eight hundred milliliters of blood had been taken from me.

That blood, once part of me, now flowed through her veins.

I turned to leave, but Brian looked up.

The moment our eyes met, his expression was as cold and blank as glass.

He strode toward me, his tone clipped with authority. “Why are you here?”

“I… I just got discharged,” I said quietly. “I didn’t mean to run into you. I’m sorry.”

“Wait.”

His brows drew together, voice dropping low.

Daisy immediately tightened her hold on his arm, smiling sweetly. “Mrs. Aurora, thank you for your donation. Without you, my baby and I might not have survived. You’re truly our savior.”

Then she turned to Brian with feigned innocence. “Darling, why don’t we give Mrs. Aurora a ride home? She needs to rest too.”

Brian lowered his eyes, a gentle smile curving his lips. “Whatever you say, my angel.”

I didn’t refuse.

Because I knew—this car ride would be the last time we ever shared the same road.

Inside the black sedan, the silence was suffocating.

Daisy leaned against Brian’s shoulder, softly laughing while scrolling through her phone.

I turned toward the window, hiding my expression.

Suddenly, she gasped. “Oh my God, what’s this?”

She pulled out a damp lace undergarment from between the seats.

The air froze instantly.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Brian… didn’t you say you got rid of everything?”

“I… must have forgotten,” he muttered, voice low, patting her back to soothe her.

I didn’t react. My face remained expressionless, eyes fixed straight ahead.

He noticed my calmness, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You’ve been staring at your phone since you got in the car,” Brian said, his tone turning cold. “Who are you texting? Grant?”

I locked my screen and replied evenly, “I was just reading the news.”

He suddenly reached over and snatched my phone.

“Password.”

“Our wedding anniversary,” I said flatly.

He tried several times. Each attempt failed.

The screen flashed: 【Locked for five minutes】.

The car fell into absolute silence.

Only Daisy’s soft sigh broke the stillness as she nestled closer into his arms.

And I, staring down at my pale fingertips, felt a strange, unfamiliar chill rising from within.

When I returned to the estate that day, the first thing I did was erase every trace of Brian.

Seven years of photos, ninety-nine love letters, and the journals we once filled together.

The yellowed pages still bore his handwriting, full of hollow promises.

I tossed them into the fireplace, one by one.

The flames devoured the memories, the ashes drifting upward like fragments of a torn wedding gown.

The scent of burning paper filled the room, thick and stifling.

When I threw the last journal into the fire, I heard the sound of the front door opening.

Brian returned with Daisy and their twin children.

He frowned, his voice cold. “Aurora, what are you doing?”

Without changing my expression, I tossed the remaining pages into the fire. My voice was hoarse. “Burning things.”

Brian’s face darkened as if he wanted to say something, but Daisy gently tugged at his arm.

Her tone was soft, yet laced with pride. “Darling, don’t be angry. She’s just… reluctant to let go.”

Brian pulled his arm away from her, his expression stiff as he turned toward me.

“The children will be staying here for a while. Let them use the nursery.”

I froze, my nails digging into my palm.

“That room was meant for our child.”

He hesitated, then spoke with icy calm. “They’re my children too.”

I laughed, the sound sharp as a blade.

“But they’ll never be mine.”

The air froze.

Daisy leaned into his arms and said sweetly, “Aurora, don’t be so bitter. I just want the kids to have a warm home.”

I didn’t bother replying. I turned and went upstairs.

Night fell.

The room was silent, except for the glow of my phone lighting up again and again.

It was Daisy.

【The necklace he gave you when you were rushed to the ER—it was just a leftover free gift I didn’t want.】

【Every time he said he was on a business trip, he was actually with me.】

【Now everyone knows I’m Mrs. Hudson. You’re nothing but a forgotten shadow.】

Photo after photo appeared on the screen—

hotel rooms, lobbies, dinner tables—

each stamped with clear dates, even one from last night.

Only then did I realize that while I was drowning in pain, he had been smiling in her arms.

My chest ached dully, but the pain quickly settled into silence.

When pain lasts too long, even the tearing feels numb.

Late that night, Brian pushed the door open.

He carried a faint scent of jasmine—Daisy’s favorite perfume.

On his neck were faint red marks.

“I know what happened today was a bit harsh,” he said softly, standing before me, his tone gentle like soothing a pet. “But I’m helping you atone. Daisy has forgiven you. Just apologize to them tomorrow, and everything will be over.”

I let out a low laugh, heavy with exhaustion.

“I won’t apologize for something I didn’t do.”

A crease formed between his brows. He was about to speak when his phone lit up.

It was a photo from Daisy.

She was wearing a sheer lace nightdress, her eyes full of invitation.

A flicker of desire crossed his face before he quickly pocketed the phone.

“Stop being difficult,” he said hastily. “Think about your mother’s medical bills. Just say what needs to be said tomorrow, and this will all end.”

Without waiting for a reply, he left and slammed the door behind him.

Ten minutes later, my own phone buzzed.

A video began to play.

On the screen, Brian was shirtless, bent over Daisy’s shoulder, their breathing tangled and heavy.

I watched it quietly, then turned off the screen.

No tears. No anger.

Just silence.

Morning in London. The sunlight filtered through the fog, falling softly across the windowsill.

Aurora sat in the corner of a café, a sealed envelope resting beside her cup.

It had already been sent—her final letter to the Hudson family.

She lifted her gaze toward the red double-decker bus passing slowly along the street.

For the first time in her life, she felt something close to peace.