Monica's POV

"KTV charges of $5,000, please verify if this transaction poses any risk."

That was the sixty-sixth message from my fiancé, Ashton Kincaid, along with his new intern, Carmen Simmons, regarding their splurging on nights out.

All of it, he told me, was for my sake.

Since Carmen had made my work life miserable, the man who claimed to love me more deeply than his own life said he was 'propping her up to destroy her.'

He even insisted that these outrageous expenses were simply part of the plan.

But the "plan" didn't stop there.

He gave Carmen the villa meant for our wedding, assigned my personal driver to take her everywhere, and made her vice president of the company, only after him.

When I needed approval for a small $300 expense, I often had to plead for it, and more frequently than not, it was outright rejected with the dismissive response, "The company is not a charity."

I had begged Ashton, tears streaming down my face, to put an end to this charade of 'kindness,' but he only pushed harder.

He even changed our wedding venue to the beach, which was Carmen's favorite place, disregarding that I almost drowned there as a child.

That day had left me with a lifelong fear of the sea.

His colleagues, ever the supportive bunch, teased him mercilessly.

"Your fiancée, Monica, spent nights working on your wedding plan, and you changed the venue on a whim? She's really a joke. Didn't she say the ocean terrifies her? What if she has a panic attack?"

Ashton casually shrugged, replying, "How could she die of fear? Impossible. She loves me more than her own life. Back when I asked her to sail with me, didn't she go without hesitation? Besides, Monica's already carrying my child. Without me, who else would want her?"

Hopelessness settled over me, heavy like a dark cloud.

What he called the 'propping her up' plan was nothing more than a cover for their affair.

As everyone around me whispered about whether I would make a scene, I made my decision. If this were how things were, no one would get away unscathed.

I dialed a familiar number and spoke with a firm resolve, "You must be there for the wedding in seven days."

...

The days passed quickly, and I arrived at the gathering Ashton claimed was a 'special surprise.'

At the door of the private room, I paused before pushing it open.

Inside, sharp, mocking voices greeted me.

"Monica finally lost her VP position to you, Carmen. And now you're magnanimously giving it back to her? If she knew, wouldn't she be devastated?"

There was a pause before Ashton's cold voice sliced through the air.

"Devastated? Hardly. I only had her step down to focus on the pregnancy. She's thrilled. She wouldn't be upset at all. These days, she listens to everything I say. If I tell her east, she won't dare go west. The moment I announced this gathering, she rushed right over without hesitation."

Laughter and chatter filled the room.

Someone else chimed in, "Ashton, you're really a master at controlling women! Teach us your tricks."

"This party's all for Carmen," another added. "To celebrate her finally becoming VP."

"Exactly! And inviting Monica to attend—well, isn't that just twisting the knife?"

Not long ago, I'd been diagnosed as pregnant.

Ashton was ecstatic, rubbing my belly like a child.

"Pregnancy is hard enough. Just stay home and take care of the baby. I'll handle everything else—the work, the money, everything."

So, I resigned from my position as VP and stayed home to focus on the pregnancy.

But within three days, Ashton had handed my title over to Carmen.

Hot and heavy tears streamed down my face.

I hadn't noticed the waiter standing beside me until his soft voice cut through my grief.

"Excuse me, miss, could you step aside?"

I moved away from the door, but my gaze couldn't leave the giant three-tier cake inside.

On the white frosting, the words "Congratulations, Carmen, on your promotion and wealth" seemed to glare back at me.

The waiter pushed open the door, and suddenly, every pair of eyes in the room turned to me.

"Monica, come in," someone said. "We've been waiting for you."

But their words had no warmth.

There wasn't even a seat for me.

Carmen, still attached to Ashton like a shadow, didn't bother to hide her disdain.

Her face twisted in contempt as she snapped, "Who let her in? I told you I don't like her! Hasn't she bullied me enough already?"

Ashton shot her a pointed look and then turned to me, his voice smooth as he tried to soothe her. "Isn't this exactly why Monica's here? To apologize to you. Whatever form of apology you want, consider it yours. You can make her do anything."

My heart stopped.

I stared at him, disbelief freezing me in place. "Ashton, didn't you tell me to come? You said you wanted me to apologize. But what did I do wrong? Why should I apologize?"

I spun on my heel and tried to leave, but found the door locked tight.

Carmen's smile twisted into something far more sinister. "You're not leaving. Drink every bottle on this table, then knock your head to the floor three times for me. Do that, and I'll let you leave. If not, I don't care who you are. You won't step out that door."

My voice rang out sharp and defiant. "No! I will never apologize, not unless I'm dead!"

Her only response was a crisp slap across my face.

Suddenly, I was kicked to the ground, my head hitting the table corner. Dizziness overwhelmed me as I struggled to get up.

"Don't move! There are plenty of ways to make you kneel!"

And then the burn of liquor as it was forced down my throat—too much, too fast. It felt like fire, searing my insides. My vision was blurred, and my body weakened.

Through the haze, I saw Ashton rubbing his temples, bored and impatient, making no move to stop them.

His silence told me everything.

So, was this still part of his so-called 'propping her up' plan to destroy Carmen?

Monica's POV

The bottles of alcohol on the table were quickly emptied, their contents vanishing into the void. I collapsed onto the floor, defeated, my face bruised and swollen, every part of me broken.

Ashton looked down at me with irritation, barely sparing a glance.

For a brief moment, I thought I saw a flicker of sympathy in his eyes, but then his cold, detached voice shattered that illusion.

"Carmen, that's enough. Look at her. She's completely lost any of the grace she had before."

Carmen didn't even acknowledge him. Her focus remained on me, savoring every moment of my humiliation.

"Oh, don't worry. I know when to stop. See? Nothing bad has happened. And we haven't even let her eat the celebration cake yet."

Then she picked up a small knife, slicing into the cake with a hollow smile. Afterwards, she held out a piece toward me.

"Here. Take it. This is for you. I'd advise you not to be ungrateful."

Instinctively, I recoiled.

A strange dread prickled at the back of my neck.

"I'm not eating it," I said, my voice strained. "I've had enough to drink already. I can't eat anything right now."

But Carmen's smile only grew sharper.

"Not eating? That's not an option. I said everyone here gets a share today. You don't want it? Too bad. You'll eat it anyway."

Before I could react, she shoved the cake into my face, smearing frosting and crumbs across my skin. I blinked, trying to open my eyes, but the stinging sweetness made it even harder.

The room erupted in laughter.

"Serves you right. You didn't want to eat it? Now you can eat the cake off your face!" Carmen mocked.

Trembling, I reached for a spoon, forcing myself to take a bite.

It tasted like ash in my mouth.

But Carmen wasn't satisfied. Her sugary voice cut through the air like a knife.

"A little bit isn't enough. I want you to eat the whole thing."

I dragged myself forward, chewing slowly, hoping they'd get bored and leave me alone.

Finally, Ashton spoke, his voice dripping with mockery, "It's just cake. Why are you dragging your feet? Hurry up! We've got another gathering to get to. Here's the deal: you stay here and eat. When you're done, you can leave."

As he finished, the others began to rise, gathering their things.

I was about to slip out when the door slammed shut with a final, brutal click.

Fists pounded against the door, sharp and frantic.

"Open up! Someone, please!" I cried, clutching my belly as stabbing pain twisted inside me. "Please! My stomach... it hurts so much!"

I collapsed to the ground, clutching my belly as waves of pain surged through me. Sweat drenched my skin. I pounded on the door repeatedly, but no one responded. The minutes stretched on like hours.

Finally, darkness enveloped me.

...

I woke to the sharp scent of antiseptic filling my nose.

"Doc, how's my baby? Please, my baby!"

The nurse on duty looked down at me with pity in her eyes, her voice weary from repeating the exact words.

"The most important thing is for you to recover," she said. "You'll have another baby someday."

Her words sliced through me like a knife.

I lay there, still and numb, as silent tears slipped down my cheeks.

My soul felt hollow, scraped empty.

It wasn't until I dialed the phone ninety-nine times that Ashton finally picked up.

"Monica, you'd better have a good reason for calling me now, or I won't let this go." His voice was sharp, impatient.

In the background, I heard someone mention a stomach issue, urging him to rest.

I shuddered, the words almost stuck in my throat.

I forced them out as I told him, "Ashton, we lost the baby. It was killed by cup after cup of alcohol. You're one of the murderers."

Dismissing me, he scoffed, "Monica, what nonsense are you talking about? You're drunk, aren't you? Really bored with your life, huh? I don't have time for your nonsense."

Before I could speak again, the line went dead.

When I tried calling back, there was no answer.

Ashton had blocked me.

I stared at the hospital door, feeling consumed by emptiness until two familiar figures appeared in the hallway.

My stomach lurched, and I gasped in shock.

"Ashton? Carmen? What are you two doing here?"

They turned in unison, and when their eyes landed on me, the indifference returned to their faces.

"Ashton," Carmen said sweetly, leaning against his shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I told you she was stalking you. How else would she have found us so quickly? She's even lying in a hospital bed now. I don't even have a hospital bed."

Her voice trembled as she leaned weakly into his arms.

"Ashton, I know her game. She's pretending. Why else would she come to the hospital alone? Monica, stop humiliating yourself and just go home."

Ashton glanced at me briefly before turning away.

Without a word, he walked off.

The silence between us was deafening.

I stared at his retreating figure, my heart sinking.

Then my phone buzzed again.

My breath caught when I saw the caller ID.

It was my mother.

Monica's POV

On the other end of the phone, my mother's voice was frantic.

"Monica, I've been in a car accident. I'm at the hospital. Hurry up and come pay the bills. If you don't come soon, they'll throw me out!"

Panic shot through me.

Ignoring the ache in my body, I forced myself to get up and rushed toward the hospital. As I ran, I checked my card balance, praying I wouldn't have to face another humiliating scene like the last time.

At that time, when an emergency arose, I asked Ashton for three hundred dollars to cover my phone bill.

Carmen, still just his assistant then, had turned me down coldly.

"How does the vice president not even have $300? At least come up with a better excuse. Don't embarrass yourself like this."

My request was denied outright.

Ashton had not questioned it at all, as he allowed Carmen to take full control of his finances.

When I finally reached my mother's hospital room, my steps faltered.

Sitting there, to my surprise, was Ashton.

I pushed my shock aside and rushed straight to my mother's bedside.

"Mom, how are you? What did the doctor say?"

My mother, usually so commanding, looked fragile against the pillows.

She let out a deep sigh and shook her head. "You finally show up, huh? You useless girl. If I'd waited for you, I'd be six feet under by now. Look, your future son-in-law was here the second I called."

Ashton gave a slight, nervous touch to his nose. I recognized that gesture well.

It was guilt. But I didn't say anything.

"Mom, this is what I should do," Ashton said smoothly, his tone warm, almost ingratiating. "If you need anything, just tell me. If I'm not around, call my assistant. How could I ever leave you unattended?"

It was as though all the filth between us had never happened.

But my mother's sharp eyes immediately turned to me.

Her frown deepened with concern.

"What's wrong with you? You look worse than I do, and I'm the one lying here sick. You better not be cutting off my source of fortune, Monica!"

She glanced at Ashton, as though giving him a silent warning.

Ashton ignored it, answering her patiently, "Monica's been working nonstop with me these past few days. She's just a little run-down. That's on me. I'll arrange for a full check-up right away, so you can see your daughter in perfect health."

He smiled warmly, then added, "And don't worry about expenses. I've already paid all your bills and even prepaid a little extra. Just relax and stay here."

After that, he excused himself, saying he had calls to make and would handle my check-up arrangements.

...

Later, outside the hospital room, I found myself standing in the hallway, facing Ashton.

For a moment, I hesitated.

My words caught in my throat before I finally asked, "How much are my mom's treatment costs? I'll transfer the money to you. We should keep things clear just in case."

His expression hardened instantly.

The warmth on his face vanished.

"Do you really think so little of me? I can handle the treatment costs. Besides, we're about to be married. What's mine is yours."

The air between us grew heavy, the words lingering.

For the first time, I wondered if we could actually go through with this marriage.

I stayed silent, and within minutes, the doctor that Ashton arranged for appeared.

He guided me through a series of tests while Ashton remained in the VIP lounge.

When the check-up was done, the doctor entered the lounge with a thick stack of reports. Ashton was busy, stubby cigarette in hand.

He hastily put it out and shifted in his seat.

The doctor flipped through the pages and started, "Miss Wright, your test results show no major issues, but just earlier…"

Before he could finish, Ashton raised a hand, cutting him off.

His phone was already pressed to his ear.

"Hello? Carmen, what's wrong?"

As he listened to the soft voice on the other end, his face grew more serious by the second.

He grabbed his jacket and stood abruptly.

"Don't cry. It's nothing serious. I'll be there right away. Just stay where you are and wait for me."

Just like that, he was gone, rushing off and leaving me alone with the doctor.

We exchanged uncertain glances, and the silence settled between us.