When her eyes opened again, the sharp bite of antiseptic flooded her nostrils.

　　Trudy turned her head instinctively, scanning her surroundings.

　　Zachary's face filled her vision, so haggard it was barely recognizable.

　　His voice came out dry and cracked, like a man holding back pain. "Trudy, you're pregnant."

　　"Why didn't you tell me sooner? Our baby... we almost lost it."

　　Trudy lowered her gaze, and the realization that her child was still alive sent a fierce wave of joy crashing through her.

　　But her expression betrayed nothing. Her voice was ice. "I'm getting rid of it."

　　Zachary stared at her in disbelief. "Why?"

　　"We're divorced. Why would I carry your child?"

　　"You— how can you be so heartless?" Zachary sputtered, his voice beginning to shake.

　　"This is the baby we waited five years for! And you want to just toss it away like it's nothing? Trudy, you have no heart!"

　　"I have no heart?"

　　Trudy let out a quiet, scornful laugh, as if she'd just heard the most absurd joke.

　　"Why do you think I never got pregnant all those years? You really don't know the reason?"

　　Zachary's chest tightened under her accusing stare.

　　His eyes darted away, and he changed the subject without thinking.

　　"Trudy, you must be hungry."

　　"I made you your favorite clam chowder myself."

　　Trudy looked at the steaming bowl in his hands, and for the first time, the sheer absurdity of it all hit her full force.

　　She was allergic to shellfish.

　　Five years of marriage, and Zachary didn't even remember that.

　　But all she said was, "I'm not hungry."

　　Watching her refuse to budge, a flash of irritation crossed Zachary's eyes.

　　He clenched his jaw and pulled a document from the bedside table.

　　"If you're not hungry, then sign this first."

　　Trudy's gaze swept across the page and landed on the bold heading: Jewelry Design Copyright Transfer Agreement.

　　Her stomach dropped. "What is this supposed to mean?"

　　Zachary's voice was even, matter-of-fact. "Three months ago, you anonymously submitted a jewelry design to the Greenleaf Competition and won first place. I had the entry registered under Serena's name."

　　He pushed the agreement into her lap.

　　"You're just a housewife with a plagiarism scandal hanging over your head. Putting a first-place award on you would only make people question the integrity of the competition."

　　"But Serena is different. She's the head of the company's design department and the daughter of the nation's wealthiest man. First place belongs with her. Still, just to be safe, sign this so there won't be any legal complications for Serena down the road."

　　Trudy's eyes burned red, her whole body trembling. "That's my work. What right do you have to hand it over to Serena?"

　　"I won't sign this."

　　She raised her hand and pointed at the door. "Get out. Get out!"

　　Zachary looked at her, and the cold in his eyes could have frozen a person solid. "You can refuse."

　　"But you won't like the consequences."

　　"I'm sure you don't want to stand by and watch Matron Grace die."

　　Trudy's teeth ground together. "You animal."

　　Matron Grace shared no blood with her, but in Trudy's heart, the woman meant more than any birth mother ever could.

　　That was why Trudy had dragged Zachary to meet her when they first got married.

　　He'd promised then that he would treat Matron Grace like his own mother.

　　Five years later, he was using the old woman's life as a bargaining chip.

　　Trudy stared at him, unblinking, until a single tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

　　"Fine. I'll sign."

　　Her hand shook as she wrote her name, each stroke deliberate.

　　Zachary glanced at the signed agreement, and satisfaction finally surfaced in his eyes.

　　"Get some rest."

　　"The full product line for this jewelry collection launches today. Pre-sale numbers are strong, so in three days there'll be a celebration gala honoring the original designer, Serena."

　　"Though you did contribute to the design, so you're welcome to attend."

　　With that, he turned and left.

　　Trudy pulled the phone she'd hidden beneath the blanket and pressed stop on the recording.

　　She cradled her stomach, and the tears came freely.

　　She had told Zachary she wanted to terminate the pregnancy on purpose. If she hadn't, he would have forced her to end it anyway, all for Serena's sake.

　　The only way to protect her child was to act like she didn't care, to make Zachary lower his guard. Only then did she stand a chance of keeping this baby alive.

　　She bit down hard, jaw locked, and swore that Zachary Simmons would pay for every last thing he'd done.

　　Three days later, Trudy was discharged from the hospital.

　　She barely made it to the front entrance before a bodyguard intercepted her, there to escort her to a gala.

　　She didn't want to get in the car. The bodyguard hauled her in anyway.

　　Inside the banquet hall, guests raised their glasses to Serena.

　　"Director Mason Fox is truly in a league of her own. She enters one little competition and the piece is already extraordinary. The whole collection sold out in three days."

　　"Director Mason and Mr. Simmons look so perfect together. Only a woman of her caliber deserves to stand beside him. I don't know how that plagiarist had the nerve to cling on for so long."

　　"And she actually showed up to the celebration? Disgusting."

　　Trudy swirled the wine in her glass, unmoved.

　　She'd heard every variation of this for five years. It bored her now.

　　She slipped outside the banquet hall. The cool night air brushed against her skin, and she closed her eyes, savoring the brief silence.

　　"Trudy. I'm surprised that little bastard in your belly was tough enough to survive."

　　"All that trouble, and it still didn't die."

　　Serena's venomous voice cut through the quiet.

　　Trudy frowned, stepping back. "What do you want?"

　　"If you know what's good for you, stay away from Zachary."

　　"You're an orphan. You never had the right to stand beside him. His wife can only be me."

　　Trudy let out a dry laugh. "So because you're the billionaire's daughter, that makes you better than everyone else?"

　　Serena lifted her chin. "Obviously."

　　She tapped the sapphire necklace at her throat. Under the night sky, the stones blazed with light.

　　"See this?"

　　"Every gem on this necklace is worth tens of millions. You're an orphan. If it weren't for Zachary Simmons, you'd never have laid eyes on something like this in your life."

　　Trudy had once asked her father whether there was anyone named Serena in the Mason family.

　　Her father said no such person existed.

　　There was, however, a servant's daughter living in the Masons' estate. Her name was Serena.

　　The thought curled Trudy's lips into a cold half-smile. She looked Serena up and down. "Miss Mason, stolen things always have to be returned."

　　"When the day comes that everyone finds out you're a fraud, I wonder if you'll be any better off than an orphan like me."

　　Panic flashed through Serena's eyes. She forced herself steady.

　　"What's that supposed to mean?"

　　"If you dare run your mouth, I will make you regret it."

　　Trudy just smiled and said nothing.

　　On the wedding day, the truth would come out for the whole world to see.

　　Let Serena have her few days of glory. After all, the higher the climb, the harder the fall.

　　Serena stared at her, the unease in her chest growing wilder.

　　Her eyes darted. Then she pulled something from inside her dress and dangled it in front of Trudy's face with a smug grin.

　　"Miss Wren, I believe this belongs to you?"

　　Trudy's heart seized.

　　It was the protective charm Matron Grace had given her. Every child at the orphanage received one, and every child treasured it. Trudy was no different.

　　Because it was one of the few pieces of genuine love she'd ever received.

　　Looking at it felt like having Matron Grace right beside her.

　　"That's mine. Give it back."

　　A cruel smile spread across Serena's face. She glanced toward the pool nearby.

　　She raised her arm and hurled the charm into the water.

　　"You want it? Go fish it out yourself."

　　Trudy turned and dove in without a second thought.

　　She was grateful, in that moment, that she knew how to swim. But the instant her fingers closed around the charm and she turned back toward the edge, a hand shot up from below and locked around her right ankle, dragging her down.

　　"Help!"

　　Trudy screamed.

　　Serena watched her thrash, arms folded, the malice in her eyes barely concealed.

　　Zachary saw it happen. His pupils contracted.

　　"Trudy!"

　　He lurched forward, ready to jump in after her.

　　Then Serena let out a sharp cry of pain.

　　"Ah! Zachary, my stomach hurts so bad..."

　　"The baby. What if something's wrong with the baby?"

　　Zachary's expression changed instantly. He spun around and pulled Serena into his arms.

　　"Don't worry. I'm taking you to the hospital right now."

　　"The baby will be fine."

　　Trudy watched their silhouettes shrink into the distance, and despair swallowed her inch by inch.

　　She was carrying his child too.

　　For one fleeting moment, she wanted to stop fighting. Just let the water take her.

　　But she had finally found her real parents. And inside her was the baby she'd longed for.

　　She didn't want to die.

　　She refused to.

　　Fury and will surged through her. She kicked harder, legs thrashing beneath the surface, and the grip on her ankle broke loose.

　　Her right foot free, Trudy clawed toward the edge with everything she had.

　　Only when she hauled herself onto the tiles did she let herself breathe.

　　But the figure below surfaced after her. A man, climbing out of the pool, closing the distance step by step.

　　"Miss Wren, I admire your willpower."

　　"Too bad you crossed the wrong person. So tonight, you die here."

　　His hand was inches from her throat when someone burst from the shadows and drove a savage kick into his ribs.

　　The man flew backward into the pool.

　　"Who the hell are you?"

　　He clawed at the edge, trying to pull himself up, but a hand shoved him back under.

　　He struggled until his strength gave out and his body sank beneath the surface.

　　"Miss Wren, I was sent by your fiancé to protect you. You can call me Assistant Fox."

　　Trudy froze. Since when did she have a fiancé?

　　But before she could ask, her vision went black and she collapsed.

　　Zachary sat at the edge of the hospital bed, staring blankly at the woman lying before him, her face drained of color.

　　The doctor had just told him the baby was gone.

　　It was the outcome he'd wanted. So why did something twist, sharp and sudden, behind his ribs?

　　Just then, Trudy's phone lit up with a notification.

　　Trudy, everything you asked for has been compiled and sent over. Also, in two days we'll meet at the airport...

　　The rest of the message was cut off.

　　Zachary's pulse spiked. He reached for the phone on instinct, but he didn't know her passcode.

　　Then he remembered. Trudy had once told him her password was the date they first met.

　　His fingers tapped the screen. The numbers went in. Password incorrect.

　　He frowned and tried several other dates.

　　Every single one failed.

　　Trudy opened her eyes. Her hand drifted to her stomach. It was flat. Empty.

　　"The baby..."

　　"Where's my baby?"

　　Zachary's knuckles were white around the phone. His voice came out low and rough. "Gone."

　　Trudy closed her eyes. The pain in her chest was so absolute she couldn't breathe.

　　If someone had pulled her out of that pool in time, the baby might have survived.

　　But Zachary had chosen. Between her and Serena, he'd chosen to let his child die.

　　She'd given up on this man long ago. She knew that. But the baby was different. The thought of what he'd cost her carved through every wall she'd built.

　　She closed her eyes and let the tears run.

　　"Get out."

　　Zachary's face went pale. "Trudy, Serena is the billionaire's daughter. If anything happened to her, her father would crush the Simmons family. We wouldn't stand a chance."

　　"I sent someone to save you. They just... got there too late."

　　Trudy didn't want to hear it.

　　She opened her eyes and fixed them on Zachary. Nothing but hatred.

　　"I said get out!"

　　"I don't want to look at you!"

　　Zachary's face cycled between white and gray. He looked at her, at the bloodless skin and hollow fury, and guilt crawled through him like something alive.

　　"Fine. Get some rest. I'll come check on you later."

　　He set down the phone, turned, and left like he was fleeing a fire.

　　Trudy pressed both hands over her face. The sound that came out of her was ragged, suffocated, barely human.

　　A long time passed before the shaking stopped.

　　She picked up her phone and opened the files her father had sent.

　　The truth about the car accident. Evidence of the plagiarism frame-up. And every filthy thing Serena had done over the years.

　　She forwarded everything to one person.

　　In two days, make sure all of this appears at Zachary's wedding.

　　Done.

　　When it was finished, Trudy closed her eyes, wanting just a moment of rest.

　　Her phone rang. Urgent, shrill.

　　"Trudy, it's bad. Matron Grace just took a turn for the worse. She needs a blood transfusion. You have the same rare blood type. You're the only match."

　　Trudy ripped the IV needle from the back of her hand. "I'm coming."

　　She rushed out of the room, hailed a cab, and raced to Matron Grace's hospital.

　　She found a nurse and told her she was there to donate blood for the patient.

　　The nurse took one look at her ashen face, and concern flickered in her eyes.

　　"Ma'am, you look quite weak. Are you sure you want to do this?"

　　Trudy nodded without hesitation. "However much she needs. Take it."

　　When the thick needle pierced her arm, her whole body shuddered.

　　But she thought of Matron Grace getting better, bit down on her lip, and held still through the pain.

　　Bag after bag was drawn. Trudy's vision blurred and her thoughts turned to static.

　　She forced herself to stay conscious. "The patient. How is she doing after the transfusion?"

　　The nurse's voice was quiet. "Much better. One more bag and her condition should stabilize."

　　Trudy exhaled. When the nurse pulled the needle out, she didn't stay seated.

　　She pushed herself up, wanting to see Matron Grace with her own eyes.

　　She made it two steps before the world went black and her knees hit the floor.

　　When she came to, she grabbed her phone and called her friend immediately.

　　"How's Matron Grace? Is she doing better?"

　　The other end went silent. One beat. Two. Then Trudy heard it: someone crying, muffled and low.

　　Her heart seized.

　　"Is she still not stable? I can give more blood. I'll tell the nurse to come draw it right now."

　　"Stop pretending!"

　　The voice on the other end was shaking with fury.

　　"Matron Grace is dead. Because you refused to give blood."