Denver's voice was low and quiet—he paused for a few seconds, seemingly surprised that everything had gone so smoothly.

When he finally spoke, there was a trace of excitement in his voice.

“I really look forward to you coming here. I’ll take care of everything on my end—don’t worry.”

After hanging up, I ordered some takeout for myself.

Half an hour later, just as the delivery arrived, Winston returned to the villa with his parents.

He walked in, saw the untouched dishes on the table, and me unpacking the takeout instead. Without even removing his coat, he stormed over.

“Bianca, what are you doing? I spent three hours making these dishes and you didn’t even take a bite! What is this supposed to mean?”

I glanced at him, my voice as cold as ice. “I don’t like lotus seed and white fungus soup. That’s Kiara’s favorite.”

Winston was momentarily speechless, his face stiffening.

Kiara put on a pitiful expression and looked at me.

“Sis, don’t blame Winston. I told him you liked the same soup as I do. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

His mother, sitting nearby, couldn’t hold her tongue. She gently comforted Kiara while throwing me a sharp glare.

“Look at that—your sister is more understanding than you. I really don’t know what my son ever saw in you. So what if you can run a company? A woman acting like a man in business—how unbecoming. You’d be better off having a child and focusing on being a good wife and mother. That’s what truly matters.”

I’d heard those words so many times over the past five years, I could recite them backward. For Winston’s sake, I endured it all.

But looking back now, I realize—I owed myself an apology.

“Save your advice for yourself, Mother-in-law. I’m not like you—good for nothing besides popping out babies.”

No sooner had I finished speaking than Winston slammed the table, sending dishes crashing to the floor.

Shards of ceramic flew up and sliced across the top of my foot.

I didn’t feel the pain at first—only when blood began to bead on my skin did a dull ache set in.

“Bianca, are you insane? These are my parents! Yours too! Is that a way to speak to your elders?”

I gritted my teeth against the pain, letting out a cold laugh.

“Do they act like elders? Since they dislike me so much, why not give them what they want? Let’s make this fake divorce official.”

Winston’s expression changed instantly. His anger vanished, replaced by uncertainty.

He stepped forward and crouched down in front of me, as if trying to say something, but then caught sight of the blood on my foot.

His face twisted with panic and frustration.

“You’re hurt? Why didn’t you say something?!”

I said nothing.

If he truly cared—if he ever had—he would’ve noticed the moment I walked in.

He wouldn’t have ignored the diagnosis report I brought home.

Winston cursed under his breath and rushed into the bedroom to get the first aid kit.

When he came back out, he was holding something else too—the infertility diagnosis I had casually left on the nightstand.

Without saying a word, he knelt to clean the wound and bandage my foot.

Then he finally spoke.

“What’s this?”

Kiara walked over, took the paper from his hand, and glanced at it.

“Infertility? Sis... you’ve been diagnosed with infertility?”

No sooner had she spoken than his parents rushed over like the sky had collapsed, grabbing the report with trembling hands.

“What’s going on? Infertile? How? You just lost one baby—how can you not get pregnant again?”

“Sis, the report says your uterine lining is too thin. Have you had abortions before? Most infertility cases come from repeated abortions. The uterus gets too damaged to carry a child. Don’t tell me... is that why you lost this baby?”

Winston’s brows furrowed. His gaze bore into me, voice trembling.

“Bianca... is this true?”

“It says it right there. I’ve been diagnosed as infertile. I can’t have children,” I replied indifferently.

Immediately, his expression darkened, and he clenched the report tightly in his hands. “How many times were you pregnant before we got married?”

“I really didn’t expect it,” his mother snapped. “You look so sweet and innocent, but you’re just a slut! You ruined my son! Who knows what shady business you’ve done to build that company?”

She swayed on her feet and collapsed into a chair, pointing at me in rage.

Kiara supported her, looking equally “shocked.”

“Sis... you shouldn’t have kept this from Winston before marriage. Now the baby is gone, and you’re infertile. You know how much he loves children.”

“Enough!” Winston shouted. The room fell silent.

He lowered himself again and stared into my eyes, gripping the wheelchair handles so hard his knuckles turned white.

“Bianca, tell me the truth. Is what Kiara said true? Have you had abortions before?”

His question brought back the memory of that night—a month ago, when I underwent a curettage procedure after the accident, clinging to life in a sterile hospital room.

And he? He was here, making love to my sister in this very house.

“I have. The day I lost our baby, you and Kiara were right here... flirting and laughing.”

Winston’s face crumbled. His voice was hoarse.

“I meant before the marriage. Were you pregnant before? Don’t lie to me, Bianca.”

I let out a sharp breath through my nose and stared at his panicked face. A twisted sense of satisfaction bloomed in my chest.

“Would you even believe me if I told you? Think whatever you want.”

His mother clutched her chest like she was about to pass out.

“You shameless woman! My son gave up studying abroad for you! You’re even five years older than him! You’ve ruined his life!”

“So what? He made that choice.” I shrugged.

Smack!

Winston slapped me hard across the face. My ears rang. For a moment, everything went silent.

“How is my son supposed to believe you?! The infertility is right here in black and white, yet you still act like a victim. What has my son done to deserve this? You want to leave our family childless? This marriage must end!”

His mother wailed, pounding her leg with her fists, nearly fainting with rage.

I turned to Winston, blood trickling from the corner of my mouth.

“Winston... you’ve truly disappointed me.”

With despair clouding my face, I turned away and returned to the bedroom in silence, too drained to offer any more explanations.

The next day, Winston brought me to the company.

No one mentioned what had happened yesterday. Not him, not his parents, not even Kiara. It was as if the entire house had entered a strange, collective silence.

I frowned. “Why did you bring me here? I already signed the share transfer. The company is yours now—I’m done with it.”

Winston smiled and crouched down in front of my wheelchair, speaking at eye level.

“I know you did it with good intentions. I overreacted yesterday. But since we’re married, I’ve decided to believe in you. My mother said she’ll contact a doctor to take a look at your condition. Maybe the hospital misdiagnosed you.”

“Today, I just wanted to show you the company—to let you see how I’m handling it.”

I nodded, forcing a faint smile.

He had a meeting to attend, so he let me wander the company on my own. I hadn’t been here in over a month. Despite everything, a strange sense of nostalgia clung to me.

But I knew—soon, this place would change completely.

As I passed by the pantry, I overheard hushed voices.

“Did you hear? President Reynolds gave all her shares to Mr. Flemming because she can’t have kids. Apparently, she was really promiscuous before marriage and had multiple abortions. Now she’s infertile and handed the company over as compensation. Otherwise, she would have been dumped ages ago.”

“No way! She always looked so proper. Ugh, disgusting. Doesn’t she know how dangerous that is?”

“I also heard her mother died the same way—had an affair, got caught by her husband, and killed herself.”

I froze in place.

My whole body began to tremble uncontrollably.

They... were talking about my mother.

The truth was, when I was ten, my father had been the one who cheated. My mother had fallen into depression, and eventually jumped to her death.

One month after she died, that woman moved in with her five-year-old daughter—Kiara.

And now, these people were spreading filthy rumors about both of us.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I shoved the door open with burning eyes, and stared directly at the three employees.

Their expressions were priceless—shock, guilt, and panicked. They avoided my eyes and scrambled toward the exit.

“Stop right there!” I shouted. “Who told you all that nonsense?”

“I—I’m sorry, President Reynolds. We didn’t mean to. I can’t remember who said it... I swear.”

“M-me neither... I forgot too.”

My grip on the wheelchair handles tightened as rage surged through me.

“If you don’t say who it was, don’t bother showing up tomorrow. I’ll have HR issue termination letters and blacklist you across the industry. People who spread malicious rumors don’t belong in this business.”

The three employees finally cracked, their voices panicked and rushed.

“Please, don’t, President Reynolds—it was our fault. We swear it won’t happen again. It was Ms. Kiara... she’s the one who told us. She said the company is hers now, and that you wouldn’t be coming back.”

Their voices trailed off, heads hung low and trembling with fear.

In the end, I let them off with a warning—but only on the condition that they resign voluntarily.

I returned to my office alone and stared at a photo of my mother and me, tears silently streaking down my face.

After an hour passed, Winston still didn't return.

I asked the driver to take me home. But when we got to the underground parking lot, I noticed Winston’s car lights were still on.

In a dimly lit corner, I saw him—slipping a ring onto Kiara’s finger, holding her hand with unmistakable tenderness.

I froze in place, the slanderous words I’d just overheard replaying in my mind like a broken record.

Did Winston already know about those rumors?

“Baby,” he whispered, “this is a critical time. You showing up at the office out of nowhere made it hard for me to explain things to your sister.”

Kiara pouted, then buried her face in his chest like a spoiled child.

“What’s there to explain? I know she hates me and my mom. Ever since I graduated, she’s done everything to keep me out of the company. But look at us now—she’s a cripple, and I’m your personal secretary. I still made it in.”

“She tried so hard to guard against me, and still failed. Just like her mother—small-minded and bitter.”

Before she could say more, Winston silenced her with a kiss, clearly angered by her reckless words.

But she only giggled and clung to him. “Oh, stop. Bianca already handed you the company. Everyone there answers to you now. What’s there to be afraid of?”

“Just a little more patience,” he murmured. “We already have a fake divorce certificate. Soon, I’ll find a respectable excuse to make it official. I won’t let you or your mom be wronged.”

Every word sent icy needles through my veins. My limbs trembled. My heart felt like it was being shredded from the inside out.

Tears streamed silently down my cheeks as I crouched in the shadows.

I had told him once—how my mother died, how my father blamed me, favored Kiara, and crushed me under his prejudice.

And Winston had held my hand, looked into my eyes, and promised, “I understand. I hate people who destroy families more than anything.”

But now I see—he had been lying all along.

From beginning to end... he had only ever loved her.

And all along, he was just waiting for the right moment to justify betraying me.

After a while of flirting, Winston reluctantly returned to the company—worried I might notice something.

But Kiara didn’t leave immediately. She stood in the shadows, right in the direction where I was hiding, a smug smile curling on her lips.

She dangled the car keys in her hand and strutted toward me, the sharp click of her heels growing louder until she finally stopped right in front of me.

“Well, well. I thought it was you. I should’ve known—you’ve always had a thing for eavesdropping, haven’t you, sister?”

I trembled with rage, my eyes burning red. If it weren’t for the post-miscarriage complications that left my legs spasming, I would’ve stood up and slapped her right across the face.

“You really are shameless, Kiara. Just like your homewrecker mother! Your mom stole my dad, and now you're stealing my husband? You even have the nerve to covet my company? Have you no shame at all?!”

She laughed, covering her mouth as if I’d just told her a joke.

“Bianca, you really need to understand something. Before he even knew you, Winston only had eyes for me. And my mother? She was your father’s first love. You and your mom were just placeholders. If you want someone to blame, blame yourselves for being boring—no charm, no spark. Can’t even keep your men.”

“Now that you’ve given up all your shares, whether I work here or not is entirely up to Winston.”

“You—don’t get cocky, Kiara. One day, I’ll drive you and your mother out of my house,” I intoned coldly.

She giggled again, mocking me without restraint.

“Oh no, I’m terrified. Really, Sis? Look at you now. A half-paralyzed, childless housewife. Even if you overheard Winston talking about leaving you, what can you do? Nothing.”

She leaned down, eyes gleaming with malice. “If you beg me a little—maybe bark like a dog or something—I might convince him not to kick you out just yet.”

My fingernails dug into my palm so hard they nearly drew blood. My lips pressed into a trembling, white line. My head throbbed from the wave of fury.

I tried to leave, forcing my wheelchair to turn around, but she blocked my path.

Worse—she placed one stiletto-clad foot right on my wheelchair pedal.

“Why so eager to go? Oh, and don’t forget—Dad’s birthday is tomorrow. You better show up. Don’t embarrass the family in front of the relatives.”

And with that, she drove off—in the car I bought for Winston.

Later that night, Winston called. I simply told him I was tired and had gone home early. He didn’t push for more.

On the drive back, I made another call to Denver, asking him to help me investigate the auction records for a piece of land in the outskirts from last year.

—

The next morning, Winston was already waiting in the living room.

Today was my father’s birthday.

We’d been distant ever since my mother’s death—he had always blamed me, even though I was just a child. I rarely visited, unless there was a serious reason.

I didn’t prepare any gift.

When I arrived downstairs dressed and ready, Kiara held out a wrapped box to me.

“Sis, I know you and Dad have your differences. I picked out a gift for you to give him. He’ll love it.”

I glanced at the porcelain tea set inside but didn’t take it. My voice was cold. “Thanks, but no. You can give it to him yourself.”

Winston’s expression darkened. He snatched the gift box from her and scolded me.

“She’s trying to help. As your sister, she’s doing more than you are. Showing up without a gift is already rude—and now you’re being cold too? Can’t you act a little more mature?”

Without waiting for my response, he took Kiara by the arm and walked out.

I no longer needed the wheelchair, though I still had to rely on a cane to walk.

By the time I got downstairs, Kiara had already claimed the front passenger seat—her usual move. I ignored her provocative glances. I was used to this.

When we arrived at the old family estate, most of the relatives and guests were already there.

Winston, the perfect gentleman, supported my arm as we walked inside. Kiara, holding two gifts, pranced ahead like a princess.

She practically skipped to my father’s side, smiling sweetly.

“Dad! These are from me and Sis. We hope you like them!”

A flicker of surprise crossed my father’s face when he heard that one of the gifts was from me.

In front of everyone, he began to unwrap the presents.

He opened the painting Kiara had bid for at an auction and immediately lit up with joy, complimenting her over and over.

Then he turned to the tea set—the one I had supposedly gifted—and barely spared it a glance. Though he pretended to like it, he quickly set it aside.

“I told you, Kiara is such a thoughtful child,” my uncle chimed in. “She went out of her way to buy that painting just for your birthday. That’s real filial piety.”

The other relatives nodded in agreement, throwing in comments like:

“Bianca is starting to mature too, thank goodness. Sure, her mother passed young and no one taught her, but even so, she should know better. Honestly, she’s always been guarded with us—won’t even let us near her company. What’s she so afraid of?”

I smiled faintly but said nothing.

Let them talk.

Let them all believe what they want.

Because very soon, the truth was going to tear their fantasy apart—piece by piece.