“Liam, this wedding dress is so beautiful. Can I have it?” Vanessa’s voice rang out from the stairs, light and sugary, like she already knew the answer.

Liam didn’t even hesitate.

“Clara, give your wedding dress to Vanessa. She’s young, beautiful—it’ll look better on her anyway. You just stay home doing chores all day. You think a tired housewife with a shapeless figure should still be wearing a wedding dress?”

Vanessa giggled softly, looping her arm through his.

“Oh, Liam, you always treat me the best.”

I stood there frozen, the words slicing into me one by one.

That gown wasn’t just fabric—it was mine. I’d designed it for our wedding, spent eight years adjusting every lace and stitch. It held all the love, the patience, the foolish hope I had poured into him.

So no, I couldn’t blame Vanessa for liking it. It was beautiful—because it was made for love.

Liam noticed my red eyes and sighed, his tone turning cold.

“Don’t be so petty. Just name your price.”

Petty? Eight years of being treated like a servant in my own marriage, and now even the wedding dress I’d waited half a lifetime for was up for sale.

What price could you put on that kind of humiliation?

None worth counting.

I didn’t respond. I just glanced at my phone—

a single message glowing on the screen:

The registration form’s in. I’ll come pick you up.

I unlocked the glass cabinet and took out the gown, placed it neatly aside, then turned and walked back to the guest room.

Their laughter echoed behind me, sticky and sweet as poison.

---

That night, I sat at my desk, reviewing recent race club data. My focus was sharp, deliberate—like a blade I was slowly sharpening.

Then came the knock.

Vanessa stood in the doorway, her lips curved in a mocking smile.

I didn’t bother hiding my irritation. “What do you want?”

She leaned casually against the doorframe, looking down at me like I was something beneath her heel.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” she said, her voice smooth and taunting. “You’ve gotten cleverer since the last time.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied flatly. “I’m tired. I’d like to rest.”

Vanessa’s smirk deepened. She stepped closer until her perfume invaded my space.

“I heard,” she whispered near my ear, “that you can’t get pregnant anymore.”

My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms.

She smiled—satisfied, cruel.

“How about a bet? Want to guess how long it’ll take me to get pregnant with Liam’s child? Or maybe you’d like to guess where that vegetable juice from three years ago came from?”

I froze. The air left my lungs. My voice came out trembling, thin as a thread.

“Get out.”

She straightened, her smile widening like victory, and left.

The moment the door clicked shut, my knees gave way. I slid down to the floor, covering my face as quiet sobs escaped me.

Because she was right.

I would never have children again.

The first time, I’d miscarried after drinking the “vegetable juice” Liam brought home.

The second time… Noah had spilled oil on the stairs. I slipped.

The baby was gone before I even made it to the hospital.

I bit my lip, swallowing the sound of my grief, but pain doesn’t disappear when you silence it. It only digs deeper, like countless needles piercing skin and bone until there’s nothing left but emptiness.

---

I woke up the next morning to laughter drifting from the backyard.

Through the window, I saw Vanessa playing with Noah in the garden. Liam sat nearby, watching them with a gentle smile.

They looked perfect—like the family I’d pretended we were for eight years.

I closed the window, but no glass could block out their laughter.

I grabbed my bag and headed out. There were still forms to submit—licenses, race registration, proof of identity.

Just as I reached the door, Vanessa appeared, her expression dripping with smugness.

“Heading out? Great timing. I want the pastries from that little shop in the north alley. Could you grab some for me?”

Then she smiled, tilting her head. “Thank you, Madam Mentor.”

She dragged out the words deliberately, as if branding me with them.

My gaze fell to the faint red marks on her neck. My hands curled into fists before I could stop them.

I didn’t answer. I just walked past her, the air too thick to breathe.

---

I didn’t go home right away after finishing my paperwork.

I wandered—city blocks, empty cafés, the quiet hum of traffic filling the silence I couldn’t bear at home.

When I finally returned that evening, Liam’s voice cut through the air like a whip.

“You come home and can’t even say hello?”

I ignored him, slipped off my shoes.

His tone hardened. “Clara. Come here.”

I placed my shoes neatly in the cabinet, keeping my face calm.

“There are things I don’t like repeating,” he said, his voice low—dangerously low.

I didn’t want to provoke him, not now, not when I was so close to being free. I crossed the room and sat down beside him.

He studied me, frowning. “Where were you all day? You didn’t make dinner for Vanessa or Noah. We had to eat takeout because you couldn’t do the one thing you’re good at.”

I kept my voice even. “I was just out walking.”

Something flickered in his eyes—something uncertain, fleeting.

He picked up a piece of carrot and dropped it into my bowl. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you? Eat something, then go to bed.”

I stared at the orange slice in my bowl. My lips curved in a small, humorless smile.

“Liam, I’m allergic to carrots.”

He froze. Just for a second.

But before he could speak, I pushed back my chair and left the dining room.

---

After my shower, I came out to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through my laptop.

My chest tightened. “Is there something you need?”

He looked up. “Your room’s missing a lot of things lately.”

My pulse skipped. For a second, I thought he’d seen something—something that would ruin everything.

“I got bored of the decor,” I said lightly. “Just changing things up.”

He nodded slowly, seeming to accept it.

But then his voice dropped lower.

“Someone just messaged you. Asked when you’re coming back to the track.”

He stood and stepped closer, searching my face. “What track, Clara? What’s going on that I don’t know about?”

I forced my expression to stay neutral. “It’s a game. Just a racing sim. Don’t overthink it.”

He stared at me for a long moment. I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not—but finally, he said nothing more.

I thought he’d leave after that.

But instead, he reached out and wrapped an arm around my waist.

I flinched—hard—pressing my hands against his chest.

The shock in my reaction made him scowl.

There was a time when I’d have melted into that touch—when I’d been desperate for it. But now, all I felt was cold.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear.

I couldn’t stand it. I pushed him away, hard enough to make him stumble.

Breathing unevenly, I whispered, “I’m sorry… I’m not feeling well tonight.”

He froze, eyes wide in shock as I shoved him away. Before anger could twist his face, a knock rattled the door.

“Liam!” Vanessa’s voice trembled, urgent and sweet at once. “Noah won’t stop crying—I’ve tried everything! Please, come help me!”

Liam frowned, torn for a moment, then sighed and released me.

“I’ll go see what’s going on.”

But instead of leaving, Vanessa appeared in the doorway, gently pushing Noah toward me.

“Clara,” she said breathlessly, “please take care of him for a bit. I really can’t calm him down.”

Before I could respond, she tugged Liam’s arm and hurried away, leaving me with the boy.

The moment Noah stepped inside, he began wreaking havoc—jumping on the bed, hurling things off shelves, scattering everything I had just neatly packed.

I tried to stay calm. “Noah, it’s late. You should be in bed.”

He glared at me, defiant. “Who are you to tell me what to do? You’re just a servant! I’m not going to sleep—and you can’t make me!”

My patience frayed. “Who taught you to speak like that?”

He only grinned, stuck out his tongue, then darted to the balcony, his small face twisted with spite.

“You’re just some poor maid pretending to be my dad’s wife! Let’s see what happens if you can’t take care of me!”

Before I could even process what he meant, he climbed onto the railing—

and jumped.

My heart stopped.

I lunged forward on instinct, catching his wrist at the very last second.

The sudden weight wrenched my arm; the old balcony rail gave a sharp crack—then snapped clean in half.

The world tilted.

We fell.

I managed to grab hold of a metal water pipe, the rust biting into my palm. My other hand clamped desperately around Noah’s wrist.

We dangled three stories above the ground, bodies swaying against the cold night air.

“Noah!”

“Clara!”

Liam and Vanessa’s screams echoed from inside. They burst through the balcony doors, faces drained of color.

Vanessa’s eyes filled with tears as she cried out, “It’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have asked Clara to watch him. If she was angry with me, she could’ve taken it out on me—not on a child!”

“Enough!” Liam’s shout cut through her sobs. His gaze flicked between us—between me clinging to the pipe, and Noah slipping from my grasp.

In that split second, he had to choose.

Save me—the woman hanging closer to him, the one who had been his wife for eight years—

or save the only child his dead fiancée had left behind.

His jaw clenched. I saw the decision harden in his eyes before he moved.

He reached over me—past my trembling arms—and grabbed Noah. With one strong pull, he hauled the boy to safety.

And then, just as relief crossed his face, Vanessa stumbled forward. Her shoulder slammed into me.

Pain exploded through my body. My fingers slipped.

And I fell.

The world spun into chaos—the wind, the rush, the final crack of impact.

Then nothing.

---

When I opened my eyes again, everything smelled like antiseptic. The light burned white and cruel.

Pain radiated from my forehead down my spine, but what chilled me most was the hollow ache in my abdomen—a deep, cold emptiness.

I was in a hospital bed. Liam sat beside me, his expression dark and unreadable. Vanessa leaned into him, her wrist wrapped in a bandage, her eyes rimmed red.

“Clara,” she whispered, her voice trembling just enough to sound sincere, “I know you hate me for taking your place. But Noah’s innocent. How could you try to push him off the balcony? If Liam hadn’t reacted in time, I—” Her voice broke theatrically. “I can’t even imagine what might’ve happened.”

My throat burned. “I didn’t push him,” I rasped. Every word tugged at the stitches across my ribs.

Noah peeked out from behind Liam, eyes wide and accusing.

“Yes, you did! Aunt Vanessa saw it! You tried to kill me so you could be alone with Dad!”

“Enough!”

Liam’s voice cracked like a whip. His fist slammed down on the nightstand. A glass shattered on the floor.

“Both witnesses saw it,” he snapped. “Don’t insult us by pretending otherwise. Vanessa’s shaken up and bleeding, and the hospital doesn’t have her blood type. You’re RH negative—you’ll donate. That’s the least you can do to make this right.”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

The nurse entered, pushing a cart. The glint of the needle made my stomach turn.

“No,” I whispered. “I—I don’t feel well…”

“You don’t have a choice.”

Liam’s hand clamped down on my shoulder, the pressure bone-deep. “This is what you owe her—and what you owe us.”

The needle pierced my vein. A flash of sharp, searing pain raced up my arm.

I clenched my jaw, trying not to cry out, when suddenly a cramp tore through my lower abdomen—hot, blinding pain that made the world blur.

My body curled in on itself. Cold sweat soaked through the hospital gown. My fingers gripped the sheet. “It hurts…” My voice shook. “Liam, my stomach—”

He didn’t even look at me. “Stop faking. We’ll talk after you’re done.”

“Liam, maybe we shouldn’t—” Vanessa began softly, eyes glistening with false concern.

“She’s being dramatic,” he snapped. “It’s just a bit of blood. How bad could it be?”

The blood bag filled slowly, red against the white hospital walls.

My vision dimmed. My body trembled violently. Then—warmth spread beneath me.

The nurse gasped.

“Oh my god—she’s bleeding! She’s bleeding out!”

By the time the doctors arrived, I was already drifting in and out of consciousness. Through the haze, I caught fragments of their voices.

“The patient is four weeks pregnant,” one of them said grimly. “She has a history of miscarriages. The trauma from the fall, plus the severe blood loss—there’s no way to save the baby.”

Four weeks.

I was pregnant.

A child I hadn’t even dared to hope for—my last fragile thread to the man I once loved—

was gone before I ever had the chance to protect it.

Tears slid silently down my temples as I stared at the ceiling.

Eight years of marriage. Five miscarriages. My youth, my dreams, my children—all destroyed by the same man I’d once believed in, and the woman standing beside him.

---

The day I was discharged, it was raining.

A thin, cold drizzle that seemed to soak straight through skin and bone.

I didn’t ask Liam to pick me up. I took a taxi home alone.

My luggage was already packed, stacked neatly outside the guest room door.

There was only one thing left I wanted to take with me—

the blue race car locked in the basement garage.

“Chasing Wind.”

I’d won my first championship at eighteen behind that wheel.

It was the last remnant of my old life—the only dream I’d managed to keep when everything else was stripped away.

I’d installed a private code lock on the garage. For eight years, I only entered when Liam and Noah weren’t home—just to sit in the driver’s seat, close my eyes, and remember what it felt like to fly.

I entered the code. The metal door rolled upward, creaking.

And then I froze.

The car—my car—was destroyed.

The windshield shattered, glass glittering across the floor like a field of knives.

The hood and doors caved in, beaten over and over with something heavy.

The steering wheel was ripped off, the seats slashed and soaked in red paint—

paint that spelled out: “Trash like you doesn’t deserve to drive.”

My championship medal, the one I’d hidden in the glove compartment, lay broken in half among the wreckage.

And standing there in the middle of it all was Noah.

Grinning. Holding an iron rod.

“Vanessa said this junk car was taking up space,” he said proudly. “It made Dad think of you, so I helped him get rid of it. He even said I did the right thing!”

I stepped forward, knees trembling, and crouched to pick up the torn medal. My fingers brushed the cold metal—

and then pain.

Noah jabbed the iron rod into the back of my hand.

“Don’t touch it! It’s trash!”

The sting burned deep, but I didn’t even flinch. My eyes stayed fixed on the wrecked car, on what was left of my last piece of dignity—my last dream.

That car wasn’t just metal and wheels.

It was me.

---

“Clara, what are you doing here?”

Liam’s voice came from behind.

He was holding Vanessa close, her delicate hand looped around his arm. In his other hand, a thermos.

“Vanessa was craving your lotus seed soup,” he said casually. “Go make some.”

I turned slowly, my face expressionless. “Liam… do you see it? My car.”

He glanced at the wreck and shrugged. “So what? It’s just an old car. You don’t even know how to drive anymore. Vanessa’s recovering—don’t upset her over something pointless.”

Vanessa pouted sweetly. “Liam, since my hand’s still weak, maybe you could sell this broken car and get me a new Porsche?”

“Anything for you.” Liam smiled, brushing her hair back before turning to me, his voice hardening. “What are you standing there for? Go make dinner. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about what you did to Noah. Vanessa’s right—you need to learn your lesson.”

Before I could react, two bodyguards appeared and grabbed me by the arms.

Liam pulled out a chain himself. The metal was cold and heavy as he clamped it around my wrists and ankles, fastening the other end to the bumper of a nearby car.

“Liam, isn’t this too much?” Vanessa asked softly, though her eyes gleamed with delight.

“Too much?” Liam sneered. “She pushed a child. This is nothing. Take her to the abandoned racetrack outside the city—let her reflect there.”

The engine roared to life.

And then the car lurched forward.

The chain snapped taut, dragging me across the wet asphalt. The rain mixed with mud and blood, the friction tearing my skin raw. My hospital bandages soaked through crimson.

I heard Vanessa laughing inside the car, Liam’s harsh voice cutting through it:

“Faster. Let her remember this next time she disobeys.”

The pain dulled into something distant, almost unreal. Only one thought remained—

that the man I had loved for eight years was capable of this.

At some point, the car stopped.

They tossed me out like garbage onto the cold, rain-slick track. My body hit the ground with a wet thud. The pain in my abdomen came back in violent waves. Warmth spread beneath me—blood, soaking into the dirt.

The child I’d lost once more… was gone for good.

---

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in a hospital. White ceiling. White walls. The kind of white that made you feel small, hollow, and tired.

Even the act of breathing hurt. My arms were wrapped in bandages, my skin raw where it wasn’t covered.

The door opened.

Liam.

I turned my head away immediately. He sat down beside me, clearing his throat like he was about to discuss a minor inconvenience.

“I was too angry that day,” he said finally. “You never cared about racing. That car was useless sitting there. Noah just wanted to play.”

I said nothing.

He went on, almost sighing. “I admit I should’ve pulled you up sooner. But you were the one who pushed Noah first. You can’t hold grudges against a child.”

A child. That’s all he saw—never what he’d done.

The nurse entered then, breaking the silence. “Mr. Liam? The pain medication you ordered is ready. You can pick it up from the pharmacy.”

Liam stood up immediately. “Vanessa hurt her wrist driving. I’ll check on her. Rest here.”

And just like that, he left.

The door clicked shut behind him. The sound felt louder than thunder.

My chest tightened. Something inside me cracked open—not rage, not grief, just a hollow kind of clarity.

I picked up my phone, my hand trembling, and dialed a number.

When the familiar voice answered, I whispered, steady and cold:

“I’m ready. Come get me.”

---

I checked myself out of the hospital that afternoon and went home one last time.

The villa was silent. Liam, Vanessa, and Noah were gone.

I hurried upstairs to the guest room, grabbed my suitcase—just a few clothes, my ID, and the broken half of my championship medal.

As I reached the door, a sound stopped me—

the deep rumble of an engine from the garage.

Something in me twisted.

I turned, my heart racing—

Noah sat in the driver’s seat of Liam’s black SUV, his small hands gripping the wheel, his feet barely reaching the pedals.

The engine screamed.

The headlights flared—aimed straight at me.

“Noah!” I shouted. “Stop the car!”

But he didn’t stop.

He smiled—a twisted, hateful grin that didn’t belong on a child’s face.

“You killed my mom!” he yelled over the roar of the engine. “You’re a bad woman! I’ll kill you!”

The SUV surged forward.

I could smell gasoline, hear the shriek of tires on wet concrete.

In his eyes, there was no hesitation—only pure, unfiltered hatred.

The child I had raised, loved, and protected for eight long years—

was now driving straight at me.

The car hurtled closer.

Too fast. Too close.

There was nowhere left to run.