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.

My uncle had long held a grudge against me over the company shares—especially after I flatly refused to let his son join the company.

Now, this birthday gathering had handed him the perfect excuse to criticize me in public.

Moments later, Romina—Kiara’s mother—descended the staircase in a peach dress, playing the part of the peacemaker.

“You’ve misunderstood Bianca,” she said gently. “That tea set was something her father has wanted for years. Bianca remembered and chose today to surprise him. It was a thoughtful gift.”

The mood around the room lightened slightly. But all I felt was disgust—burning, bitter hatred.

“I don’t need you to speak for me,” I snapped. “You—the homewrecker who destroyed my family—what right do you have to speak on my behalf?”

I forced myself upright and shoved the tea set off the table.

The crash of ceramic shattering against the floor echoed through the room, each shard a testament to my fury.

My father’s face darkened. He slapped me across the face and growled in a low, furious voice, “You ungrateful brat! She’s your mother now. Apologize to her!”

“That's too much, Bianca.” Winston grabbed my arm, scowling in confusion. “This gift was Kiara’s idea. She just wanted to ease things between you and your father. She’s always thinking of you, and yet you trample all over her kindness.”

Everyone in the room was staring at me—disappointment, disdain, and disgust flickering in their eyes.

Romina lowered her head and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, pretending to cry. Meanwhile, Kiara—furious—picked up the broken pieces of the tea set and flung them at my feet.

“Enough, Bianca! My mother and I have tolerated you for years. I’ve always treated you like a sister, always put your feelings first. And this is how you repay our kindness? Your mother’s suicide was due to her own depression—what does that have to do with us? Stop acting like the victim!”

Trembling with rage, I slapped Kiara hard across the face. Her sheer audacity left me speechless.

“You want to air this out in public? Fine, let’s do it.”

I turned to the stunned crowd. “Let me tell you how Romina destroyed my mother. She seduced a married man, tore apart our family. My mother didn’t just fall into depression—she was pushed, day after day, until she jumped off that balcony.”

“And our father—where was he? A month after my mother’s death, he moved this woman and her five-year-old daughter into our home! Five years old. You really think their affair was just a coincidence?”

The moment I said it, Winston rushed to Kiara’s side, wrapping her in his arms like a hero defending his damsel.

“Bianca, today is your father's birthday. Why must you go this far? What happened was years ago—can’t you let it go? Kiara had nothing to do with any of it!”

I stared at him, eyes burning from unshed tears. Then I laughed.

A laugh full of bitterness, mockery, pain, and despair.

“Let it go?” I echoed. “You’re asking me to let it go when you weren’t the one who lost everything. Of course it’s easy for you to say.”

“I want everyone to see clearly: the mother was a shameless homewrecker, and her daughter is just as despicable.”

“Enough!” Winston shouted, and the next thing I knew, his palm crashed across my face again.

My ears rang. The slap left a sting so sharp it felt like fire.

Blood welled in my mouth.

“You’ve gone too far,” I said hoarsely, my voice breaking with disappointment. “You’ve all gone too far.”

My cane slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a dull, final thud—echoing my heartbreak.

My father’s face was twisted in fury. There was no sympathy in his eyes—only hatred and regret.

“Get out!” he barked. “Get out of this house and never come back! I regret ever having a daughter like you. You’re not even a tenth of what your sister is. If your mother had taken you with her that night and jumped, maybe I wouldn’t be stuck with you now!”

Tears blurred my vision, and I laughed while crying—half in madness, half in sorrow.

I didn’t pick up the cane. I simply walked out of the house—step by painful step.

Winston and Kiara chased after me, each grabbing an arm to "help" me.

But I knew better.

One of them felt guilty for hitting me.

The other just wanted to see me humiliated.

I shook them off, only to lose my balance and fall to the ground.

Winston instinctively reached for me, trying to pull me up.

I shoved him away hard.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Bianca, can you not be so dramatic? You just had to ruin a perfectly good birthday, didn’t you? Seriously—how much is enough for you?”

I let out a cold laugh, eyes locked on Winston and Kiara.

“What now? Feeling sorry? Upset that your mistress and her mother got humiliated? Do you hate me for it, Winston?”

He froze. For once, he didn’t try to argue.

Instead, his brows drew together, and his tone softened slightly.

“I won’t deny that I’ve wronged you. But I never intended to leave you. Kiara... she’s your sister—and my first love. I lost control for a moment. It was a mistake.”

He paused and looked down, as if hoping I would understand.

“Now that you’ve been diagnosed with infertility, and Kiara is carrying my child, I can’t just abandon her. I hope you can understand.”

Kiara began to cry, her hand resting tenderly on her still-flat stomach.

“Winston, you don’t have to explain. I never expected you to stay with me. If it comes to this, I’ll just take the baby and leave the city. Maybe it’s fate—my mom and I were never destined for happiness. Even when we meet someone we truly love, we’re never the ones who get to stay.”

As she spoke, her voice broke into sobs. She began pounding lightly on her stomach, sending Winston into a panic.

“Kiara! What are you doing? Don’t hurt yourself! That’s our baby! I won’t let anything happen to either of you!”

Realizing how that sounded, he quickly turned back to me, trying to fix his slip.

“Bianca, Kiara is your sister. This child—he’ll treat you like his own mother. She won’t fight you for anything. And my mom? I’ll handle her. I know I’ve let you down, but this is the reality. I hope you can accept it.”

“I can’t.”

I stared straight at him, my voice colder than steel.

“What do you take me for? You expect me to let a homewrecker’s child call me mom? That’s disgusting. Luckily, our divorce cooling-off period is almost over. Let’s not pretend anymore—just finalize it. That way, you won’t even need a respectable excuse to leave me.”

Winston’s face went pale. He was clearly shaken.

“You... you heard that?”

“Unfortunately for you, yes. I heard everything. So, Winston—let’s divorce.”

“Bianca, listen to me—don’t do this. I never meant to really leave you. I was confused—I wasn’t thinking clearly. Are you really willing to give up the company? Walk away from everything we built together? Think about it: infertile, divorced, penniless—how do you think you’ll survive?”

I stared at him, stunned by how easily those cruel words rolled off his tongue.

“No man can accept a wife who can’t bear children,” he said sharply. “Face it, Bianca. You hate Kiara's mother for breaking up your family, for interfering in your parents’ marriage. But have you ever thought—no one ruins a happy home unless there’s already a crack.”

That was it.

I slapped him hard across the face.

But before I could speak, Kiara shoved me, and I fell to the ground, my body unable to react in time.

“Enough, Bianca!” she shouted. “How dare you hit Winston? If it weren’t for you, we would’ve been together a long time ago. You were never good enough for him!”

Her outburst was quickly followed by a pained groan as she clutched her belly.

“Ah—Winston, my stomach—it hurts!”

“Don’t be afraid, I’ll take you to the hospital! Hang in there!” Winston anxiously muttered.

My hand was scraped raw from the fall, and a small piece of gravel had embedded itself into my wrist. Blood dripped silently to the ground.

But Winston didn’t even glance at me.

His world was filled only with Kiara.

I hailed a cab myself, went to the hospital to have my wound bandaged, and returned to the villa alone.

Then I started packing.

Winston must’ve felt some flicker of guilt, because he texted me.

[I called the family doctor for you. He’ll be there in an hour. Just hang on.]

I stared at the message blankly—then deleted it without hesitation.

We were supposed to wait a month before I left for good.

But now?

Now, I was leaving early.

This time, I would leave completely. Without a trace. Without regret.

Before I left, I shredded every photo I had with Winston.

Every saved message from when we dated. All the silly stickers, the affectionate texts, the comforting moments—I deleted it all.

I placed my wedding ring and the signed divorce papers on the nightstand.

After erasing everything between us, I grabbed my suitcase, turned my back on the villa, and walked away—without ever looking back.