I didn’t know when I passed out.

Maybe sometime during the pain.

Maybe sometime after he finally got tired of using my body.

When I opened my eyes again, the basement door was already unlocked.

My phone kept vibrating beside me on the floor.

That was how I knew Damian’s anger had faded for now. Whenever he cooled down, he returned my phone like he was doing me a favor instead of taking away my freedom in the first place.

I pushed myself up slowly.

Pain shot through my entire body so hard my vision blurred for a second.

My thighs hurt.

My wrists hurt.

Even breathing felt uncomfortable.

But I still forced myself upstairs.

Because people like me didn’t get to rest.

The second I stepped into the living room, I saw Chloe.

She was sitting on the couch with one leg crossed elegantly over the other, scrolling through her phone like she owned the house.

Maybe she already did.

She looked up when she heard me walking.

“Oh.” Her lips curved into a smile. “Looks like he played one of his little games with you again.”

My fingers tightened slightly against the stair railing.

Chloe tilted her head innocently.

“Poor maid.”

She was dressed beautifully today. Cream-colored designer knitwear, gold jewelry, flawless makeup. I didn’t even need to recognize the brand to know the outfit probably cost more than my adoptive parents made in a year.

Then small footsteps came racing across the room.

“Mom!”

My heart jumped instantly.

I opened my arms before I could stop myself.

But my son ran right past me.

Straight into Chloe’s embrace.

She smiled immediately and kissed the top of his head. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“I’m hungry.” He wrapped his arms around her waist comfortably. “Can you tell her to cook?”

Her.

Not Mom.

Me.

“The nanny’s food sucks,” he complained. “I want steak. And I want Russian soup too.”

Borscht.

His favorite.

Or maybe not anymore.

Children changed quickly.

Especially when someone spent months teaching them who deserved love.

He never asked if I had eaten.

Never asked why my face was pale.

Never asked where I had been all week.

But that was normal.

My entire life existed for other people.

That was what I had been taught since childhood.

A daughter should obey.

A wife should endure.

A mother should sacrifice.

So why did my chest still hurt so much?

Why did I still want to cry?

Chloe looked at me lazily. “Well? Didn’t you hear him?”

I lowered my eyes automatically.

“I’ll cook now.”

—

An hour later, dinner was finally ready.

Three bowls of soup.

Two steaks.

Fresh bread.

I carried the soup carefully to the dining table while trying to ignore the ache between my legs every time I walked.

Damian still wasn’t home.

Probably with another woman.

Or maybe with Sophia in his imagination.

I placed the last bowl down quietly and pulled out a chair.

The second I started sitting down—

The chair jerked backward violently.

I lost balance immediately and crashed onto the floor.

Pain exploded through my hip and wrist.

For half a second, the room went silent.

Then my son burst into laughter.

Loud laughter.

Cruel laughter.

“I’ve seriously never seen someone this stupid before!”

My breathing stopped.

I looked up slowly.

My son was pointing at me while laughing so hard he almost fell against the table.

And Chloe?

She simply walked over gracefully and sat down in the chair I almost took.

Like nothing happened.

Like I wasn’t still on the floor.

“Darling,” she said sweetly while unfolding her napkin, “before eating, maybe you should wash the sheets from the master bedroom first.”

Her eyes slid over me mockingly.

“People won’t die from missing one meal.”

The meaning behind her words hit me instantly.

The sheets upstairs.

The sheets she slept on with my husband.

My stomach twisted violently.

“Come sit,” Chloe told my son warmly.

His attitude changed immediately.

He climbed into the chair beside her obediently and picked up his spoon.

He looked happy.

Like she belonged here.

I stared at them quietly for several seconds before lowering my gaze again.

Then I picked up my spoon.

If I ignored them, maybe the night would pass peacefully.

Maybe—

Crash.

My bowl disappeared from my hands.

A second later, it shattered against the floor.

Hot soup splashed across my legs and glass scattered everywhere.

I froze.

My son stood there breathing hard.

He had thrown it.

“You didn’t hear Chloe,” he snapped angrily. “Go wash the clothes first.”

Not Chloe auntie.

Not Miss Chloe.

Just Chloe.

Like she was already family.

Something inside my chest started trembling.

I stared at him in disbelief.

This was my child.

The boy I carried for nine months.

The boy I almost died giving birth to.

After my parents died, he became the only person in the world connected to me by blood.

And now he looked at me with pure disgust.

I stood up slowly.

My hand lifted before I even realized what I was doing.

Not to hurt him.

Never to hurt him.

I just—

I just wanted him to stop.

But before I could speak, Chloe immediately pulled him behind her protectively.

Like I was dangerous.

Like I was the monster here.

My son peeked out from behind her shoulder with open contempt.

“I hate you,” he muttered.

The room suddenly spun.

A sharp ringing filled my ears.

I couldn’t breathe properly.

My vision darkened at the edges as heat rushed violently through my body.

Then everything went black.

I woke up to the sound of crying.

Not gentle crying.

The dramatic kind.

The kind people performed when they wanted attention.

“She tried to hit him,” Chloe sobbed somewhere near my bed. “She scared your son so badly, Damian. And then she suddenly collapsed like she was the victim.”

My eyelids felt heavy.

Every part of my body ached.

“She has cancer, apparently.” Chloe gave a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Honestly, I think the diagnosis is fake. Maybe she bribed the doctor just to make you pity her.”

A long silence followed.

Then Damian spoke coldly.

“I don’t care if she’s dying.”

My fingers twitched weakly against the blanket.

“She ruined my chance to be with Sophia,” he continued. “I’ll never pity her for anything.”

His voice became quieter. Crueler.

“She can spend the rest of her life begging for love I’ll never give her.”

Relief.

Not sadness. Not fear.

Cancer.

I had cancer.

For some reason, the thought didn’t terrify me.

It felt comforting.

Like finally seeing the exit door after years trapped inside a burning building.

Maybe this horrible life was ending.

Maybe I could finally rest.

I opened my eyes slowly.

The hospital lights hurt immediately.

Chloe stopped crying the second she noticed I was awake.

Damian stood beside the window with one hand in his pocket, still wearing yesterday’s black dress shirt. His expression remained completely indifferent.

“You’re awake.”

I looked at him silently.

“You have cancer,” he said flatly. “But don’t start expecting me to waste my family’s money treating you.”

His tone sounded more annoyed than concerned.

“You can try calling your precious brother instead.” He sneered slightly. “Although if he actually cared about you, he wouldn’t have rather handed me the project just to shove you into my house and make my life miserable.”

I lowered my eyes quietly.

Damian continued mercilessly.

“You’re honestly impressive in one way.”

His gaze moved over me coldly.

“No matter where you go, you become someone else’s burden.”

My chest tightened faintly.

Not because his words hurt.

Because deep down, I had heard variations of them my entire life.

Worthless. Troublesome.

Damian checked his watch impatiently.

“I have a meeting.”

Of course he did.

Business mattered.

Mistresses mattered.

I never mattered.

He walked toward the door without another glance at me.

But before leaving, he paused briefly.

“Oh,” he added casually, “don’t die in my house. The media attention would be annoying.”

Then he left.

The room became quiet.

For three seconds.

Then Chloe started laughing.

Not loudly.

She crossed her arms and looked down at me like I was something pathetic stuck beneath her shoe.

“I genuinely didn’t know people like you existed.”

I didn’t answer.

“I almost feel bad for you now.” She tilted her head. “Your husband abuses you. Your son hates you. Your brother abandoned you.”

Her smile widened.

“And you’re too stupid to even fight back.”

I stared blankly at the hospital blanket.

Chloe walked closer.

“I heard your adoptive parents didn’t even let you finish high school.” She laughed lightly. “Honestly, I don’t even feel threatened by you anymore.”

Her voice dripped with superiority.

“You’re not qualified to be my rival.”

Silence filled the room.

Then a man’s voice spoke calmly from the doorway.

“She’s right.”

Chloe froze.

I looked up slowly.

A tall man stood outside the hospital room wearing a charcoal-gray suit. Several bodyguards stood behind him.

My adoptive brother.

Elias Sterling.

CEO of Sterling Group.

The man who inherited everything after my biological parents died.

The same man who once looked at me across a desk and called marriage a “good opportunity.”

Chloe recovered first.

“Oh— Mr. Sterling, I didn’t realize—”

Elias walked into the room without even glancing at her.

“Because she would never see you as a rival.”

Two bodyguards suddenly grabbed Chloe from behind.

She screamed instantly.

“Wait— what are you doing?! Let go of me!”

They forced her roughly onto her knees.

Chloe looked horrified. “Do you know who I am?!”

Elias finally looked at her.

Cold eyes.

Emotionless eyes.

The kind that made powerful men nervous.

Then—

Slap.

The sound echoed across the room.

Chloe’s head snapped sideways violently.

I stared in shock.

She stared too.

Completely frozen.

Elias flexed his fingers once before speaking calmly.

“Stop screaming inside a hospital, idiot.”

Chloe’s face turned pale immediately.

“You— you hit me?”

Elias looked genuinely uninterested.

“My sister may not fight you,” he said evenly, “but that doesn’t mean you’re qualified to humiliate her in public.”

Chloe’s breathing became shaky.

“You can’t treat me like this. Damian won’t allow—”

Elias interrupted smoothly.

“The resources funding Damian Vale’s newest project came from me.”

The room fell silent.

Even Chloe stopped moving.

Elias continued in the same calm tone:

“If my sister remains Mrs. Vale, the board of directors won’t allow Damian to remarry.”

His gaze turned colder.

“But if she disappears…”

A faint smile touched his lips.

“Do you really think a replacement mistress can climb very far?”

Chloe’s expression cracked completely.

For the first time since meeting her, she looked scared.

Actually scared.

Elias crouched slightly in front of her.

“Go tell your master something for me.”

His voice remained soft.

That somehow made it worse.

“I will make him pay for everything he’s done to her.”

The bodyguards dragged Chloe out while she screamed furiously.

The hospital room became quiet again.

Elias stood up slowly and adjusted his cuffs.

Then finally—

He looked at me.

Neither of us spoke.

I hadn’t seen him in almost four months.

He still looked exactly the same.

Perfect posture.

Like someone carved him out of ice instead of flesh.

“You look terrible,” he said finally.

I almost laughed.

Instead, I asked softly, “Why are you here?”

“Because you collapsed.”

“That never mattered before.”

A brief silence followed.

Then Elias walked toward the hospital window.

“You have late-stage cancer.”

His voice stayed emotionless.

“The doctors estimate less than a year without treatment.”

I looked down quietly.

“One year…” I repeated softly.

Strangely enough, that sounded peaceful.

Elias turned back toward me slowly.

“You’re not upset.”

“I’m tired.”

The answer came out more honestly than expected.

For the first time in years, my mask slipped slightly.

“I think…” My throat tightened faintly. “I think I’m finally too tired to keep trying.”

Elias stared at me for several seconds.

Then his jaw tightened almost invisibly.

“You’re still a Sterling.”

I smiled weakly.

“No,” I whispered. “I was never really one.”

Something dark flashed briefly through his eyes.

Anger?

Regret?

I couldn’t tell.

But it disappeared quickly.

“You’ll receive treatment.”

“I don’t want it.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

His tone became colder instantly. Familiar. Authoritative.

The same tone he used in boardrooms.

The same tone he used when arranging my marriage.

I looked at him quietly.

“Why?” I asked.

Elias frowned slightly.

“Why what?”

“Why save me now?”

The room fell silent again.

Outside the hospital room, I could hear distant footsteps and nurses talking softly.

Life continued normally.

Meanwhile mine had already started ending.

Elias loosened his tie slightly before answering.

“You’re my sister.”

I looked away immediately.

Because somehow those four words hurt more than cruelty ever did.

If he truly saw me as his sister—

Why had nobody saved me sooner?